Thursday 15 June 2023

Sherlock- Episode 9. The Boy Scout Summer Training Camp

 It's been a year since she has cut me any slack. By which I mean column space. For Mum's been too busy with poxy poetry to pass me the quill or rather mouse in this case.  The last you heard of me, dear reader, I was about to join a boy scout training Summer camp in the Wicklow mountains. 

Those kids were ace! Never a dull moment. What with the barrel challenge, the tyre time trial and the hanging tough,  I definitely earned that badger badge. And at least for that week I must have been Ireland's Fittest Cat!!

They included me in all their shenanigans and most especially in all their barbeques; sizzling Cookstown sausages, tasty beef burgers, succulent chicken kebabs. Boy those lads loved their grub. I had definitely found my tribe. By the time they were ready to go home I had several offers of foster brothers and a rather rotund belly. But scout master declared that I might after all actually belong to someone. 

What is it with humans? if cats ever belong to anyone...

Anyway I was carried off to the nearby DSPCA where a chip was discovered in my neck. When the heck did that get there?...I belonged. 

And before long Mum burst through the animal shelter  doors weeping up a flood. I hoped it was joy.

To be sure it was  and I was treated like the Prodigal son albeit there was no fatted calf ladled into my dinner bowl. Even  Grumps behaved with restraint and there was less tipping me off those chairs.

I discovered that during my absence Long Fellow had been industriously circulating my mugshot all over the neighbourhood. So much so that as I conducted my diurnal amble around the precinct I was accosted and manhandled and swept off my stride by various well intentioned neighbours who hadn't yet learnt of my prodigal return. Mum was promptly called and I was delivered yet again into her salvaging hands. In short it became dangerous to venture out of doors. 

But my itchy feet soon got the better of me and Michael's restaurant, now touted as worthy of Michelin standard (he'd surely been busy during my absence) was too much of an enticement to defer walkabout. After all I had celebrity status with Gaz the chef owner and was sure  of some five star treats. 

The waft of slow cooking Wicklow lamb hit my nostrils half way across the road and the prospect of a few amuse- bouche and Big Mike's Surf and Turf tickled my palate. I stopped to salivate and that's when it happened.....

To be continued...

My last post was June 11th 2022 if you want to check it out..

Copyright 2023 Cathy Leonard All rights reserved

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