A post should appear each Sunday!
Sunday October 24th 2021
Yes, this week Isis Podengo definitely gets her own back on Human.
It’s Sunday, and we are sitting relaxing on J’s patio, eating chocolate eclairs.
I release Isis from her harness. Immediately, her nose begins to twitch. She stands up, raises her muzzle, and begins to move her head from side to side, slowly, deliberately, like an observation turret on a submarine.
Ah, she must have picked up a scent. I follow the direction of her enquiring nose.
There, sitting on the inside kitchen windowsill of the flat next to J’s, is a pretty little tabby cat. It’s craning its neck in Hairy One’s direction, eyes huge with horrified disbelief: there’s something white and grey and fluffy standing in its territory. And it smells.
The little tabby stares, transfixed, at Isis.
It can’t be.
It’s a dog.
Head still raised, Isis strolls purposefully towards the patio next door. I scramble out of my garden chair and retrieve her.
About forty minutes pass. While Isis is firmly tethered, kitty becomes braver. Two stripey paws are planted on the outside window sill, the small head reaches further round the edge of the window. Prudently though, the rest of the furry remains firmly planted on the inside sill.
Then kitty, feeling, no doubt, that it’s won round one, has a long, leisurely wash.
I think five o’clock must be tabby cat’s teatime, because when I look up again, the window space is empty.
Isis, naturally, is very keen to explore the scents in the garden.
I watch her as she follows her nose to a particular spot of grass beneath a large shrub. Hmm. She appears to be eating grass. That’s fine.
Suddenly, a horrible suspicion forms in my mind. For the second time I leap off my chair.
Eeeew! Horror of horrors! She is nibbling at something. But unfortunately it’s not grass.
Isis, unhappy with the reduced diet she is being given at home, has discovered the new cat’s poopery.
Making my disgust clear, I put the revolting animal back on her lead.
That night I set the alarm. I have an appointment at ten thirty a.m. I’m not a morning person, so decide to give myself plenty of time to get ready, have a swift breakfast, then relax with a leisurely coffee before leaving the house.
Unfortunately, things don’t work out like that. Not quite.
When I walk past the back room, Isis is asleep on the day bed. As I step towards the back door to unlock it for her to go out, I am confronted with a huge, unsavoury heap on the door mat.
It takes me at least twenty minutes to clean up.
Definitely, Isis will have picked up my scent. She’ll know I’m next door, but she doesn’t get up.
Peering round the door, I see that she’s awake but looks very subdued.
This is upsetting. I’ve never been cross with her for the very, very rare ‘accident’; after a cuddle, though, she springs up to have her collar put on, and follows me out into the garden.
I decide it’s not circumspect to give her breakfast, and there’s no time for me to have mine, nor, regretfully, the long anticipated coffee. I hastily glug down a couple of glasses of water, and scamper out to the car.