Cats

Our three year old ginger tom Charley is remarkably intelligent and understands a few commands such as giving paws, high fives and kisses, in comparison his playmate PC shows about as much intelligence as a goldfish, and never strays from home. My daughter Sue always refers to them as “her cats” while I'm reduced to Grandma. I get annoyed when she adamantly insists they're hers then leaves me to stay up till all hours making sure both moggies are safely in, fed and watered for the night.
Visiting her friends house one night she messaged me.
“Will be home late forgot key don’t lock back door, feed cats and make sure they are in I‘m worried about them”.
I messaged back saying I wouldn’t feel safe leaving the door unlocked in case I nodded off. Cheekily she replied, “you’ll be just fine and can look after yourself but it’s not safe at night for the cats!”.
One night recently she had a friend staying over , it was getting late and Charley was still out not responding to calls to come in. After listening to Sue and her friend calling him repeatedly for 10 minutes I decided the only way to get peace was to go out and look for him. Disregarding the fact I was dressed in pyjama’s, slippers and dressing gown I trudged round the neighbourhood clutching cat biscuits stopping every now and then to yell, “ Charley darling please come in and get dinner”. Some new neighbours had just moved in next door that day but I hadn’t yet spoken to them, forgetting how I must have looked I saw them peeping out the window and gave a cheery wave, I saw a few other neighbourhood curtains twitched too. I know our area is resonably quiet but you'd have thought they'd seen worse and had more exciting things to do on a Friday night than spy on a harmlessly eccentric woman dressed in night clothes calling out a male name. Mind you I felt a bit of a Charley looking round and seeing four hungry looking strange cats following me.
Thankfully Charley eventurally turned up safely. I still haven’t spoken to my new neighbours wonder if they’re avoiding me. I can’t fathom why we called our cats PC and Charley, but it’s much better than the names my late mother chose for her cats. A theatrical Shakespearian fan her three cats were named Puck, Blossom and Bottom (from Midsummer’s Night Dream), Can you imagine the embarrassment when mother stood at the back cakking them in.!