THE SAUSAGE THIEF
He simply couldnt ignore that cat. Mostly because the creature was caught pinching from his small grocery shop. Yet, he went about it in such a charming fashion it was absolutely impossible to be angry. Quite the opposite, really.
The shopkeeper rather looked forward to the whole escapade. He even filmed the spectacle on his phone, and in the evenings hed delight his wife with the footage. Theyd both end up in stitches. But heres how it all went.
The cat would sit for an age outside the open shop door, pretending to have stopped merely for a rest and certainly not plotting any mischief whatsoever. Hed sneak a glance this way and that, making certain the coast was clear. Meanwhile, the owner was lurking behind the big chiller, phone at the ready.
The cat would slink inside with exaggerated caution and head straight for the sausage display. There, hed speed up, snatch a Cumberland or perhaps a chipolata, and scarper. Well, almost.
His hunger wouldnt let him get far, so just a few paces from the shop, the cat would stop and tuck in.
The owner would stroll outside, call over (but not come too close):
Is it tasty?
The cat would raise his head and let out a very convinced meow.
Glad to hear it! the owner would reply. Come back anytime.
You might be wondering, hang onsausages out in the open, not in the chiller, tucked away on a low shelf? Its not as odd as it sounds.
The shopkeeper, you see, was a soft touch. He simply had too big a heart. The cat had arrived at the shop stick-thin and worse for wear, but absolutely refused to accept anything directly from the mans hand. Approaching a person simply wasnt on the cards.
So the man came up with a plan. At first, sausages were placed just near the entrance. The catnamed Oliver, for all good thieves deserve a Dickensian monikercould steal them fair and square. Honest work, in his feline mind.
And it worked. Gradually, the sausages were moved further and further into the shop, eventually landing on a low shelf among the other delicacies. Thus, the feeding station was born.
By now, Oliver could honestly have just strolled in and taken his pick, but the ritual was the thing. Stolen sausages simply taste better.
Later, the shopkeeper set out a water bowl, a big dish of luxury cat food, and even a plastic litter tray just outside. He went so far as to put up a snug little dog kennel, complete with a fleece blanket.
Oliver wasnt exactly keen on being handled, but he did love a natter. The owner would emerge after the latest sausage heist and strike up a conversation. The cat, between mouthfuls, would sometimes look up and reply.
But lately, something had been puzzling the shop owner. Oliver was looking healthier by the dayquite plush, in factand no longer seemed to need the sausage runs. But even so, twice a day hed whisk away a couple of links and disappear round the corner.
The man had tried to spy on his destination more than once, but Oliver always gave him the slip. So, he invested in a tiny camera with a decent view, sending footage live to his back office computer. One day, at last, the mystery was solved.
From a basement window round the corner, a ginger kitten appeared and pounced hungrily on the sausage Oliver had delivered.
The shopkeepers wife, upon learning of this, was beside herself.
Tomorrow! she insisted, red-eyed from crying. Youre bringing them both home TOMORROW!
But this was much easier said than done. Oliver, by now, slept sprawled across the shop floor and could easily be whisked up. As for the ginger youthforget it.
Days went by. On the camera, the shop owner watched the little ginger kitten sipping Olivers water or snoozing in the kennel. But any attempt to approach sent him fleeing up the street like a tangerine torpedo.
Everything changed one day. From the till he heard a ruckus at the shop door. No customers were there, so he followed the sound.
On the threshold sat the ginger kitten, yowling at the top of his voice.
Whats the matter, little chap? the owner asked, perplexed.
The kitten ran up, locked eyes with him, and darted away. The man, not hesitating, followedand found Oliver lying in the alley, moaning softly, wounded on his back leg from a dog bite.
The ginger kitten pressed his tiny head against Olivers side and gave another plaintive yelp.
Oh, dear Lord, muttered the shop owner.
He whipped off his jacket, bundled the injured Oliver inside, scooped up the ginger kittenwho, for once, submitted without fussand popped him into his blazer pocket. Door locked fast, the three of them made a dash for the car.
They spent five hours at the vets. While Olivers wound was cleaned and stitched, the man got properly acquainted with the ginger whirlwind, now named Spark.
That night, he brought home the barely-conscious Oliver and sprightly Spark. His wife was over the moon. And what does an Englishwoman do when shes over the moon?
Correct. Ring all her best friends, of coursehours of calls, explanations and a healthy dose of advice.
Once she finally wrapped up, the man, Oliver and Spark collapsed asleep across the bed.
This is ridiculous, observed his wife. Where am I supposed to sleep?
Fortunately, Spark scooted over without objection and snuggled up, kneading her side with his tiny paws.
Thats how they found their family.
Now, these two robust, indolent cats are nothing like those scruffy strays of old. Sometimes, Oliver still gives Spark a wash out of habitand Spark never protests.
Just across the street, near the shoe shop, a little grey tabby has set up camp. The sales assistant keeps dashing to the grocery to buy her something tasty.
Maybe shell take her home.
Maybe, one day, theyll all have homesand cats will be in such short supply that people will queue up and battle through paperwork and training courses just for a chance to adopt one.
What do you think?
Could happen, couldnt it?