The new, heavyweight, Wash has wasted no time in reasserting himself in the neighbourhood. I mentioned that he visited both adjoining gardens (scaling the fences) on his first time out. He's been in and out o fthe cat flap at all hours since.
This morning I was woken up at some unearthly hour (the young hens hadn't got up, it was still dark, so it was before 5.30) by cat wailing. Fearing for Wash, I leapt out of bed, opened the window, and the cacophony was unbearable. I grabbed my dressing gown, ran downstairs, opened the back door and ran out in to the rain. I had slipped on some garden shoes, but , n my haste, I hadn't been able to get my heels in.
It took me a moment or two to work out where the cats were, the other side of the gate. I had to go back in the house, unlocking and going out through the front door. My arrival disturbed things, and the enormous black and white cat (the one Wash had a stand-off with last year, before his accident) ran out of the driveway and along the street to the alley way. Wash was in hot pursuit.
I cursed. I shut the front door, and ran after him, in the rain, in my dressing gown, still schlepping along with myfeet only partially inside my garden shoes. As I was running along the alleyway, I imagined bumping in to someone. Oh well, I'd explain that I was searching for my cat.
Eventually I found him, and he came home with me, bouncing along a bit like Tigger. He had to prove how jaunty he was feeling by leaping over the garden wall.
He then strolled upstairs and went for a nap.