Saturday night but I am not at the movies. I have been working at my computer and feeling virtuous. Some more to do on this particular project tomorrow, but then it should be good to go.
After warm days and sitting in the parks, the weather is cold. So cold that I thought for a moment it was snowing today. Not quite true. My thought when I saw white flakes swirling outside my window was it wasn’t cold enough for snow. I was right. The white flakes were petals from the hawthorn trees in the road.
MasterB is on the sofa beside me, curled up with his eyes closed, but there is something about his posture that suggests he is not entirely happy. I may be projecting. He has just had an encounter with Hartley outside. I should say at once that no paws were raised, and Hartley looked quite confused at coming face to face (twice) with His Gingerness. The first time, they were either side of the garden gate. MasterB strolled along the pavement, caught sight of Hartley and shrank back, flattening his ears against his head. But he didn’t run away. I was between the two of them on MasterB’s side of the gate. I made to rub Hartley’s nose through the bars, trying to demonstrate to my boy that Hartley was not being aggressive. Hartley obligingly rolled over on his back at once, then, when I went to open the gate, skipped gaily into the garden; an invitation for me to follow. Against his will, but to keep him safe as a van was coming along the street, I popped MasterB into the garden and followed Hartley round the corner.
He led me to the bench. Of course he did. As I said, it was cold. I had been expecting MasterB to go into the garden and that I would return immediately to the warmth of the flat. I was not wearing a coat. Still, I know where my duty lies. So I sat down and cuddled Hartley for a few minutes to comfort him and give MasterB the opportunity to have an alfresco pee, find himself a concealed spot in the bushes, or head over the wall to neighbouring gardens. But it was cold, so soon I stood up. Hartley reached out a paw and tapped me on the leg; a gentle message that he would like more.
No chance. I rubbed his ears and returned to the gate. MasterB was on the gatepost. He sniffed Hartley’s scent on my hand and hissed at me. I made mollifying noises, headed for the door. After a few seconds he followed and came inside, up the stairs then down again. I obliged him by opening the door and he positioned himself half in half out. That meant that, as so often, I had to stand beside him waiting for him to come to a decision.
So that’s how we were when who should appear but Hartley. He looked a bit embarrassed, and MasterB did not exactly offer a warm welcome. Hartley looked for a way to get inside without going near MasterB. There wasn’t room. He has never tried this before. Has he being taking instruction from his pushy friend Romeo who, in all likelihood is snoozing in warm comfort in B&J’s neighbours’ house?
MasterB started grumbling, backed indoors and sat on the stairs. I gently closed the door. What now? I wondered. After a few moments he climbed the stairs in a dignified, offended manner, still grumbling. When we reached the flat he didn’t come in, but sat on my neighbours’ doormat. I felt reproached. To make amends I fussed his face, and he stopped grumbling, then he came in.
Looking at him now, his seems more at ease. I hope I am forgiven. I also hope one day he and Hartley might be friends.
Stay safe. Keep well. Remember pets have feelings too.