I have mentioned Molly Cat before. She is the love and the bane of my life. When she first came, she was clearly half starved and incredibly thin. She has filled out since she has been here, although she is by no means fat. At the beginning, she used to slide between the dishwasher and the plinth to get behind the skirting boards of the kitchen cupboards. She would then push out the skirting board at the opposite end to get out. She clearly enjoyed this, and we found the black clips that were supposed to hold the wood in place all over the flat. I was less amused. As she has filled out, she has used the space she created to gain access.
Two days ago, the 'Man Who Does' was here. He does everything, from major jobs (repainting rooms, netting in half a balcony to keep Molly safe) to the most minor (changing the bulbs that I cannot reach even on the ladder). This time, he came in response to a piteous appeal for help from me. On New Year's Eve night I was rinsing out Molly's bowls in the sink when I noticed water gushing from the cupboard beneath. I hastily closed the taps and abandoned it, grateful that I had no scheduled visitors until after the 2nd. On the 1st, I texted him asking if he could fit me in on the 2nd. Bless him he said yes.
He duly arrived on Thursday morning. I felt rather bad, but he seemed happy. He fixed the sink (a rotten seal) and changed all the bulbs that had blown. Then I remembered the skirting board. I showed him the various black clips and he said he could do it immediately, which he did. Much contentment all round. Until Molly woke from her siesta.
I went in to the kitchen to feed her and noticed that she was prowling around the now closed access to behind the cupboards. She can no longer fit between the dishwasher and the plinth. She kept looking at me, but she has always kept away from there when I was around, so I didn't think much of it. Until about ten minutes later, when she started to howl.
It was terrible. She sounded as if she was being tortured. Her cries would have rent the hardest heart. I was in the study. I rushed to find her. She was pacing the kitchen, staring at me as if I had deprived her of all that was most precious in life. I checked her food, her water, herself. Nothing appeared wrong. I picked her up, gave her a cuddle, took her back to the study. As soon as I put her down, she bolted for the kitchen and the cacophony started again. My nerve lasted less than five minutes.
Picture the scene, dear reader: me, on my knees, trying to wrench the skirting board out so that I could allow Molly access again. Eventually, I succeeded. NO, it is NOT funny!!! I returned to the study. There was silence from the kitchen. Eventually Molly rejoined me. To say she looked smug would be an understatement.
I don't know what she hides under there. When my cleaner looked the following day all she found was one of the baubles from off the Christmas tree. There may be objects further in, where we cannot see. In any case, I am sure it is her special hiding place, which I am not supposed to know about. From now on, it stays open. I CANNOT BELIEVE I did that.
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