Chris Dolley

French Fried: one man's move to France with his wife, too many animals, and an identity thief

Animals: Home Invasions - Feline Style

It had started on our second night. I think the local feline population had called an emergency meeting as soon as they sniffed out our arrival – cats having that uncanny ability – and a ginger tom had won the ballot for first shot at the newcomers.

He tried the ‘Homeless Cat’s Plaintive Serenade Under The Bedroom Window In The Middle Of The Night’ ploy – an old favourite and usually a sure-fire winner. Certainly, we'd fallen for it before. But this time we had two cats in residence and felt that our quota had been well and truly filled.

The next night he tried the ‘Homeless Cat’s Plaintive Serenade From Under The Bed’ ploy. A much bolder stratagem and a considerable surprise at two o'clock in the morning. One minute I was asleep, enjoying a cat-free dream, the next I was awoken by a discordant caterwauling emanating from less than one foot below my left ear.

And he was caterwauling in French. I could tell by the accordion accompaniment.

Having a cat flap certainly has its disadvantages. Singing cats unexpectedly gaining access to your bedroom in the middle of the night being one of them. Sharing a bed with a very large puppy has only one advantage. The singing cat didn't stay long enough to appreciate it.

But he did appreciate the cat flap again – at great speed – closely followed by the aforementioned very large puppy.

With the failure of the singing ginger cat, the starving black cat was sent in. Its job was to beg for food. Well, perhaps not so much beg as ask very quietly when no one was around then come back at night and strip the property of everything edible – including Gally's favourite fishy-shaped croquettes.

And the best part of a loaf of bread – the middle part – carefully excavated through its paper wrapper.

Its stomach bulging from the night's endeavours, the black cat then climbed to the top of our fridge freezer and was promptly sick from a great height. Lending a textured wavy stripe to our fridge door.

We could forgive a starving cat the croquettes, perhaps the bread as well. But I think the wavy stripe was going a bit too far.

oOo