I spent much of the day under a shrub in my garden. It’s my special spot – protected by the fence behind me, and almost invisible from the front. I can watch the birds and keep an eye out for rodents, or just switch off. Today I left only to go into the kitchen to eat and drink. And to climb over the fence to do my business.

In the evening, my male servant returned home at his usual time from wherever it is he goes most days. I listened to his characteristic steps coming up the road, then his strides up the drive, then his keys in the lock. I stood, stretched, and strolled on to the lawn to meet him.

He greeted me with a bisyllabic word, and I responded with the bisyllabic miaow he likes. He repeated his own two syllables, vaguely like my miaow but frankly a pretty poor copy. I fail to understand why he and his ilk can’t communicate with just the half-dozen sounds we use, instead of the hundreds they’re constantly jabbering.

He was tired and unhappy. I tried to cheer him up by rolling on my back and letting him tickle my tummy, and then led him to my bench at the back of the garden. We sat together for some time, doing some pleasurable stroking while enjoying the summer evening garden scents. He became less tense, but remained miserable. He’s been like that for a few weeks, since my female servant stopped coming home each day, presumably because she felt the urge to wander and hunt, away from her usual territory. As I do each year. Doesn’t mean she stopped loving me.

Later on, we’re in the kitchen. I’m sitting near his plate, keeping him company while he eats a bizarre amount of vegetables. He enjoys my presence, though when we have guests he pretends to be annoyed that I’m on the table.

Suddenly I hear the female servant’s car, a couple of streets away. I jump down and trot into the hall. Male servant looks at me with mild surprise, and carries on eating. The vehicle approaches, and pulls into the drive. Male servant pretends not to notice. The engine rattles off, the car door slams, and she mounts the steps, more hesitantly than usual. He carries on eating. The doorbell rings. He looks up, sighs, mutters something, and goes to the front door.

The two of them stand staring at each other. She blushes, shuffles her feet and says something. His face lights up. He flings his arms round her. They hug and kiss.

I sit on the hall floor waiting for her to pick me up and stroke me. After all, that’s why she’s come back.

 9/3/24