Mr Scratch

                                       MR SCRATCH

It’s a wonderful summer’s afternoon. Here I am, Mr Scratch, a ten-month old tortoiseshell cat, and happy to be out in the open air. Above me there’s an inviting big blue sky, not a single cloud to be seen. The scent of the freshly-mown lawn in the garden fills my nostrils. It’s a luxury to roll around in this lush green grass. I am so delighted I start to purr and all seems well with the world.

I was starting to go stir crazy, you see, within those four walls. The constant clamour for my affections was becoming monotonous. A pair of excitable little humans with podgy inquisitive fingers were prodding and ruffling my fur all day. How would they like it if they were in my shoes? It’s enough to drive any self-respecting cat to distraction, and when I saw the back door left slightly ajar, I knew the opportunity to scuttle out of there was too good to waste.

However now it’s a totally different story for I am out of the coop and have the freedom of the locality. Who knows what I will find? Maybe, just maybe, a worm or even better a juicy sparrow or two. You have to be quick and brutal to catch these birds, which is why I like to sharpen my claws on the bricks outside for maximum effect. Sometimes I’ve had to use them to ward off little Sophie and Bobby. They don’t see it as aggressive, they regard it as playful. I am unconditionally adored, you see. A lovable scamp, I’m sure that is what I’ve been called from time to time.

Trotting off down the pavement now, my sharp eyes scan the street ahead. All seems peaceful, at least until I hear the warning bark from the other side of the road. The gruff but menacing sound of growling ensues. This is a Staffordshire Bull Terrier, an instant enemy. Hound straining at the leash, eyes bulging like poached eggs about to pop. The owner is a shaven-headed man in a tracksuit. Don’t like the look of him either. Dog wants to get me. Stupid beast, he’d never catch me anyway and even if he did I’d give him a souvenir to remember me by courtesy of these scratchers here. I arch my back and hiss at him to mark my territory. Standard procedure, you see. The Terrier knows full well I do not appreciate his attentions and this seems to do the trick.

Moving on, it’s a busy street right now and not without its perils. I see a young child riding on some strange contraption with wheels. Its sleek silver frame gleams in the sunlight, and it is careering straight in my direction. The child is reckless and dangerous as he lets out a loud cry, not even pausing to manoeuvre out of my way. I have every right to be share this pavement with the humans but they do not appear to concur on this evidence. I am so alarmed by the speed and momentum of the scooter that I am forced to dart aside, giving out a loud distressed mew for good measure.

It seems that the plump woman with the shopping bag marching along behind the errant child is sympathetic to my cause. For she shouts a few choice words in his direction and looks over  kindly at me. She’s coming over now. I can see in her eyes that she likes me; she clearly has an affinity with cats. The woman is kneeling down, coaxing me over with an outstretched hand. I oblige and now she is gently stroking me on the head and under my chin, this feels really soothing and I am purring once again. The woman is talking to me in a funny high-pitched voice, I don’t know what she’s saying but I get the feeling she thinks I’m a beautiful cat. She would obviously be right. Anyhow, the child looks restless so the mother leaves me be and they both move on..

I decide now to investigate what is going on off the street. Taking a nimble leap, I launch myself up onto the top of a brick wall to my left and follow it round till it reaches a point close to a front door. There’s a hedge row. Perfect timing. A young robin bereft of its mother, it has not spotted me yet. I brace myself, then pounce. A contact, my claw strikes home but it’s not a clean blow. A flurry of feathers and – to my dismay – the bird escapes from my clutches. Fluttering off into the sky, it is now out of reach. I let out another mew – and this time it’s one of utter frustration.

Creature comforts are often taken for granted. I have a feeling it is feeding time back at home. My nostrils are already twitching. I’ve had some adventure today, but here it must end for I am already picturing a full bowl of Felix and a saucer of that creamy milk I so adore. So now it’s about turn and I’m going back on my tracks. A good meal, a good scratch and a plump cushion to curl up on for later – you can’t say fairer than that.