Saturday 23 April 2022

The Sherlock Saga- Episode 6

 Mum's Poem


I stroke your paws on the screensaver 
and stretch my fingertip to touch the tip of your nose
and recall your soft fur and wet snout, your engine purr
your roll-over-scratch-me,your snake- flick about my feet
your dives through garden-hose-spray,your rocket-leaps after flies
your paw-swings at lupin,your skulks behind flower-pots
your Premier-League-advances across tiled floor in pursuit of belled balls
abandoned beneath beds, couches, cupboards, in places you couldn't reach.

Like you now, beyond my call.


I was found because Mum and Longfellow leafleted every house on the estate, every telegraph pole,utility pole,power pole, hydro pole, transmission pole- call them what you like. My image was plastered on every notice board and blank wall they could find. So much so that for weeks after the event I was still being rescued by the neighbourhood watch brigade who hadn’t heard of my rescue and were dialling me in well into the summer. I could hardly take a stroll around the block without being nabbed by some do-gooder. Even Mum was getting tired of it. That would teach her not to be so officious with her leafleting. Not only did they leaflet. Red actually knocked on doors like a saleswoman, canvasser, service provider and set out their dilemma to the public at large. Nobody as forceful and persuasive in soliciting support as Red. She would have had her foot and elbow in the door before they could say Jackrabbit.


The public at large responded on mass and one day when I was quietly meandering along the sidewalk minding my own business while on the lookout for a fly, a bird, even a mouse, a gang of girls beset and besieged me. “It’s him!! It’s definitely him,” they cooed. At first I felt like a celebrity must do when set upon by the paparazzi.

“It has to be him. He’s only got one eye!” Screeches of OMG ensued!


That eye again. It would be the death of me yet. It did on this instance signal the end to my mini-break but to be honest I was a bit peckish and had had enough of that Bear Grylls hunter-gatherer stuff and the girls had a packet that looked like and smelt like ham and as you know ham is to me what honey is to Winnie-the-Pooh. How could I not cooperate? I purred and rolled over and all that malarkey until they parted with it. In a state of consummate bliss while munching on this delicacy I heard them make the call and before I knew it my lift arrived and there was Mum and Red and the Longfellow weeping with joy at my return.

To be continued...

Copyright 2022 Cathy Leonard All rights reserved


  1. And we'll never know how he got across the dual carriageway!

  2. In the dead of the night for sure...