A question of size

Wednesday December 22, 2004

After a full morning’s shopping, lunch, and then a tour of Tesco’s for a total Christmas blitz, I was ready to go home and rest my aching feet. As we pulled out on to the road I was foolish enough to say something about being home in twenty minutes.

Then we hit the total blockage on the Brothertoft road due to an oil tanker shedding its load.

After much deliberation we decided to turn right down the something-or-other road, heading for the Boston Stump, plainly visible in the distance. I made some totally daft remark about being home in half an hour.

Then we hit the total blockage on the outskirts of Boston, due to a large lorry getting jammed at a very tight corner far too small for modern goods traffic.

After much deliberation we decided to make a u-turn and go back round another way. I made another daft remark about being home in forty-five minutes.

It took an hour and a half.

“Now my feet really hurt,” I said as we pulled on to the drive.

“You rest up, look out for Harry, and I’ll unload this lot.”


Rather than sit down I scooped Harry up, settled him on my arm safely, and we went for a stroll round the garden as the daylight faded. He was much stimulated, though he showed no inclination to wriggle free and go off on his own, being content to sniff the air from the warmth of my coat sleeve.

Inside the kitchen the kettle came to the boil, the Christmas goodies were all safely stowed, and so Harry and I came in to make a nice pot of tea. Leastways, I made the tea while Harry went beetling off into the bedroom, intent on some urgent errand or other.

A great caterwauling rose, destroying the peace of the little house by the fens.

“What the blood and stomach pills…”

Dolly came skidding and scrabbling into the kitchen, bounced off the dishwasher door and continued into the dining room and under the table. Harry Cat swaggered through in hot pursuit, eyes blazing, urge to kill showing in every bristling hair.

He now tips the scales at perhaps one third of his full adult weight, which makes him something like one fifth of Dolly’s massive bulk.

“Still in charge, then, Harry?”

He favoured me with a brief conspiratorial look before going on to subdue and dominate our larger than average Mega Cat. With complete success.

But then, like they say, size isn’t everything.



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