Actually, dignity is probably not the right word. Anyone acquainted with the Boy knows that dignity is not one of his attributes. Saved him from being stuck under a car with Floyd for hours would be more accurate.
Floyd is a cat, as indeed is MasterB. Floyd, and he may go by other names, this is what I call him, has been an occasional visitor to our garden over the last few weeks. I suspect he is a street cat. He was in the garden when I went out to collect the cat dishes. MasterB accompanied me. I knew Romeo and Hartley were also outside, so drew them off to the end of the garden to allow MasterB some mooching time. I hadn’t counted on Floyd. I saw he was there, but I carefully ignored him. Hartley sat on my lap and I began the work of teasing out a new clump of knotted fur on his neck. I could see Floyd out of the corner of my eye. I could also see Romeo under a car watching Floyd. Floyd wandered off.
What I hadn’t seen was MasterB venturing further into the garden and also sitting under a car, a car Floyd decided he would go under too. There came the unmistakable sound of a cat threatening aggression. Floyd evidently had mistaken MasterB for some other ginger who knows how or wants to fight. When I went over Floyd stopped making the aggressive noises, but stayed where he was, which meant MasterB had to stay where he was too, hostage, in case any sign of flight sparked an attack. I tried and failed to coax him out.
Then, reasoning that Floyd was probably hungry and food would be a greater attraction than pulverising my boy, I went inside, washed one of the bowls, emptied a sachet of cat food into it and returned to the scene of the hostage taking. It worked. Floyd tucked in, MasterB escaped. I thought MasterB might have been put off the garden for this evening, but he’s back outside now. I’ve collected Floyd’s empty dish, and instead of downloading photos from today’s walk in Surrey with Celia, and even writing about the walk, I have written this.