When I had finished, I lifted him into a cat cage and placed it on the straw.
Sorry, old lad, I said, but I cant let you go free till youve wakened up completely.
Olly gave me a sleepy stare, but his sense of outrage was evident.
So youve dumped me in here again. You dont change much, do you?
By teatime he was fully recovered and I was able to release him. He looked so much better without the ugly tangles but he didnt seem impressed, and as I opened the cage he gave me a single disgusted look and sped away.
Helen was enchanted with my handiwork and she pointed eagerly at the two cats on the wall next morning.
Doesnt he look smart! Oh, Im so glad you managed to do him, it was really worrying me. And he must feel so much better.
I felt a certain smug satisfaction as I looked through the window. Olly indeed was almost unrecognisable as the scruffy animal of yesterday and there was no doubt I had dramatically altered his life and relieved him of a constant discomfort, but my burgeoning bubble of self-esteem was pricked the instant I put my head round the back door. He had just started to enjoy his breakfast but at the sight of me he streaked away faster than ever before and disappeared far over the hill-top.
Sadly, I turned back into the kitchen. Ollys opinion of me had dropped several more notches.
Wearily I poured a cup of tea. It was a hard life.
Moses Found Among the Rushes
It was going to take a definite effort of will to get out of the car.
I had driven about ten miles from Darrowby, thinking all the time that the Dales always looked their coldest not when they were covered with snow but, as now, when the first sprinkling streaked the bare flanks of the fells in bars of black and white like the ribs of a crouching beast. And now in front of me was the farm gate rattling on its hinges as the wind shook it. The car, heaterless and draughty as it was, seemed like a haven in an uncharitable world and I gripped the wheel tightly with my woollen-gloved hands for a few moments before opening the door. The wind almost tore the handle from my fingers as I got out but I managed to crash the door shut before stumbling over the frozen mud to the gate. Muffled as I was in heavy coat and scarf pulled up to my ears I could feel the icy gusts biting at my face, whipping up my nose and hammering painfully into the air spaces in my head. I had driven through and, streamingeyed, was about to get back into the car when I noticed something unusual. There was a frozen pond just off the path and among the rime-covered rushes which fringed the dead opacity of the surface a small object stood out, shiny black. I went over and looked closer.
It was a tiny kitten, probably about six weeks old, huddled and immobile, eyes tightly closed. Bending down I poked gently at the furry body. It must be dead; a morsel like this couldnt possibly survive in such cold but no, there was a spark of life because the mouth opened soundlessly for a second and then closed. Quickly I lifted the little creature and tucked it inside my coat.
As I drove into the farmyard I
called to the farmer who was carrying two buckets out of the calf house. Ive got one of your kittens here, Mr. Butler. It must have strayed outside.
Mr. Butler put down his buckets and looked blank.
Kitten? We havent got no kittens at present.
I showed him my find and he looked more puzzled.
Well, thats a rum un, theres no black cats on this spot. Weve all sorts o colours but no black uns.
Well, he must have come from somewhere else, I said. Though I cant imagine anything so small travelling very far. Its rather mysterious.
I held the kitten out and he engulfed it with his big, work-roughened hand.
Poor little beggar, hes only just alive. Ill take him into thouse and see if the missus can do owt for him.
In the farm kitchen Mrs. Butler was all concern.
Oh, what a shame! She smoothed back the bedraggled hair with one finger.
And its got such a pretty face. She looked up at me. What is it, anyway, a him or a her?
I took a quick look behind the hind legs. Its a tom.
Right, she said. Ill get some warm milk into him but first of all well give him the old cure.
She went over to the fireside oven on the big black kitchen range, opened the door and popped him inside.
I smiled. It was the classical procedure when newborn lambs were found suffering from cold and exposure; into the oven they went and the results were often dramatic.
Mrs. Butler left the door partly open and I could just see the little black figure inside; he didnt seem to care much what was happening to him. The next hour I spent in the byre wrestling with the overgrown hind feet of a cow. Still, I thought, as I eased the kinks from my spine when I had finished, there were compensations. There was a satisfaction in the sight of the cow standing comfortably on two almost normal-looking feet.
Well, thats summat like, Mr. Butler grunted. Come in the house and wash your hands.
In the kitchen as I bent over the brown earthenware sink I kept glancing across at the oven. Mrs. Butler laughed. Oh, hes still with us. Come and have a look.