The Cork Board

The way the Cookie crumbles – a true story of English village life


Every dawn and dusk there is a squat old man who walks his dog as far as it needs to to relieve itself in front of someone’s house and then back again. This, I detect, is the extent of the daily exercise for both man and dog. Let’s call the man Arthur. Arthur’s contribution to the community is to keep an eye on everybody else’s business.

Sarah and Tom, lovely couple a few doors away, decided to go away for a few days for a break. The two cats, a tabby called Biscuit and a timid black and white one called Cookie, were to stay at home, and Sarah’s parents, who also live nearby, agreed to pop in and feed them and just keep an eye on the place.

Gratuitous kitten pic.........................................(www.pixdaus.com)

The day before their return home, Bill and July, Sarah’s parents, heard a loud knock at the door as they sat eating breakfast. Arthur, on dawn patrol, spat his words like machine gun fire, “Your Sarah’s black and white cat.”

“Yes,” said Bill

“Just seen it. Dead.”  And with that Arthur turned and left. That, for Arthur, is conversation.

Bill and July stared at each other as their spirits sank. They knew Sarah would be heart broken when she returned home to find her sweet little timid cat an ex-cat. Bill grabbed his coat and went around to Sarah’s house and, sure enough, in front of Sarah’s gate, lay the rigid remains.

Bill scooped up the poor thing into a bag until they decided what to do. Sarah was due back tomorrow and she’d be beside herself with grief. She adored that cat.

Bill decided that the best course of action was to treat the animal properly for Sarah, and so, carrier bag of cat in hand, visited the local vet to ask for a cremation, pronto. Bill slipped the vet the asking price and the vet duly obliged. Bill, flushed with the warm glow of his humanitarian instincts, collected a lovely little casket of ashes that afternoon.

Dawn broke on the day of Sarah and Tom’s return. Arthur watered the dog and sat awaiting the imminent arrival of the neighbours.  He let the curtain drop as he watched them unload the car in a pleasant post-holiday mood. It’s tough – but this would not wait. Arthur sidled up to Sarah and without preamble fired his volley – “Sarah. Your black and white cat. Dead. Saw it here at the gate.” – and left. (He doesn’t hold back doesn’t Arthur. Life is too short for pleasantries.)

Sarah, stunned, broke down. Tears fell like rain and before Tom could throw his arms around her in consolation she had run into the house and upstairs to bury her crumpled face into the comfort of her pillow. But there, lying on the bed, in all his “Welcome home, Mum” glory – was Cookie, the black and white cat, just where they’d left him several days before.

……………………………………………….

Mouths are agape in Bill and July’s kitchen as Sarah tells her story about Arthur’s outburst. Eyes turn towards the sweet little casket on the windowsill.

Discrete enquiries are now taking place down at The Queen’s Head to find out if anyone has lost a black and white cat recently and, er………..would they like it’s ashes back.

23 thoughts on “The way the Cookie crumbles – a true story of English village life

  1. Hmmm…Cat and cremation…I don’t relate to it..I come from a land where many human’s don’t get a proper cremation..Cat’s cremation..only a rich guy would think of something of that sort 😐

    1. Lots of people in the U.S. get their pets cremated (when they die) and keep the ashes. Pets are very important to many people here, and we treat them with lots of love and respect.

  2. nice story Al, Ppl like Arthur are every where to find… kind of lunatic types who consider their business to stick in everybody’s life; be straight to the point of being rude and forget pleasentries huh??

  3. Funny in the way maudlin things are. For Sarah VERY funny! For the owner of the black and white cat who died, not so funny. Bizarre for Sarah’s parents — also the outlay of $$ to have the cat cremated (not cheap, I’ve had to do it). But all in all a great ending. Arthur — what a gruff old guy. Not necessarily my idea of a good neighbor, or perhaps “pleasant neighbor” — at least he does his duty, so to speak!

    1. Thanks for commenting, Julee. Arthur is a strange guy. I was once standing in the middle of the road at 6.30 am checking taffic before my wife could pull out of the drive (we live on blind bend) dressed only in my dressing gown. Along comes Arthur with dog – “Good morning,” I yell. Nothing. There was no way he was talking to this strange guy in his dressing gown at that hour !! Hahah. Wierd. Glad you liked the story. 🙂

      1. Seems like the sort who sees what he wants to see and hears what he wants to hear. You shoulda flashed him (joke)! Maybe would have gotten a reaction then! 😉

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s