A Week After We Left, Our Neighbours Returned Last on the Ferry from their Holiday Cottage – But They Came Back Without Their Enormous, Grey Bandit of a Cat Missing His Right Ear!

Im James Harper, and a week after wed left the weekend cottage, the neighbours finally drifted back on the last rowboat from Windermere. They came without their cat a massive grey tom, oneeared, the sort of rogue whod spent the whole summer prowling my garden, stealing crumbs from the table and digging up carrots. By then Id grown used to his antics.

When I saw the couple pull up without Grey, my stomach dropped. I asked my wife, Emily, to go over and, without any fuss, find out what had happened to the cat. As it turned out, theyd simply left him at the cottage.

I fretted all afternoon, then called my boss and begged for a day off tomorrow. Emily let out a heavy sigh and warned, Take care out there. Ask them to ferry us over by boat.

From the moment I stepped outside, the weather was miserable. Leadgray clouds poured a thin, annoying drizzle, and the wind chased dead leaves along the pavement, some frozen to the ground. I roamed the boatyard hoping someone would be willing to cross the river for forgotten belongings.

No one showed up. Eventually a sturdy fellow in massive size45 boots appeared, tinkering with a motor and muttering under his breath. I told him Id left some crucial documents at the cottage and handed him a fiftypound note. He slipped the paper into his pocket, cursed the country folk who forget things, then lowered the boat into the water.

The water was respectable, splashing cold foam that threatened to capsize the little vessel. After half an hour of battling the tide, we finally scraped ashore near the cottage. The grimeyed man muttered that a few extra twentypounds wouldnt have hurt, and I bolted toward the house as the sky turned a dull steel and the drizzle grew into icy sleet.

Grey! Grey! Grey! I shouted at the top of my lungs, hoping the cat was still alive.

Grey appeared, shivering, pressed against my legs, and let out a plaintive meow. I scooped him up and sprinted back to the boat, leapt aboard, and set the cat beside me. The grim man stared, mouth agape, but before I could catch my breath Grey leapt from the boat, shyly tucked his lone left ear against his head, gave a soft meow, then bolted away.

Stop! Where are you going, you little devil! I barked.

I ran after him, ignoring the mud, the curses that slipped from my own mouth, and the promises Id make to never let a cat get away again. Grey darted ahead, I chased, then he veered left into a thicket and vanished. I pushed aside the branches and found him curled up against a tiny black kitten, soaked through and whimpering. Grey looked at me with guilty eyes and gave a soft meow.

I dropped to the damp ground, ready to lift both, when the earth trembled. The grim man stomped over in his huge boots, spitting curses, then halted abruptly. In a surprisingly gentle tone he said, Come on, hurry up. The snowstorms coming, and itll bury everything in white.

I hoisted Grey and the black kitten, and we raced toward the boat. How we managed to cross the river, Ill never know perhaps the Almighty simply wanted us safe, for the river was a blur of white.

The grim man shouted over the roar of the engine, You beast! I flinched.

Why beast? I asked, eyeing the churning water.

He snarled, So you swindle me with documents and cash, yet you come here to save a cat? You think youre a proper man while Im some soulless thing?

I was afraid youd refuse, and there was no one else to save him, I replied. He fell silent, snorted, and we docked at the boatyard.

He rummaged for a box for the kitten, lined it with a warm towel, and when I was about to leave, thanked him. He said, Nothing comes without a price. Then, turning to Grey, he said, Youll come live with me. I fish; youre a proper cat. Stay.

Grey looked at me, mewed apologetically, and padded over to the grim man, standing on his hind legs and pawing at the massive boots. The man lifted the cat, and Grey wrapped his neck around him.

The man turned, voice trembling, muttering, Well, well, well Then, gathering himself, he invited me, Id like you to join us for a weekend of fishing next month, and winking, he sent me off.

Back home, Emily tended to the black kitten, and beneath the warm towel she discovered the fifty pounds Id given the boatman. Now we go fishing regularly, always with that goodnatured, grumbling fellow. And yes, sometimes I arrive a bit tipsy and without a catch, but fishing is a lifes work, you see.