This morning She got up too early and fed us and to Her it seemed there were not quite enough and at first She thought it was me, Pixie, missing. She cannot count very well and gets confused now there are six of us. But no, Pixie was there. Later She realized that She had not seen Maurice all day. Maurice who jumps into Her arms, mostly when She is expecting it, but sometimes when She is not. No Maurice, and it is cold outside. By supper he was still not back and though a line of ginger curled along the sofa, none was him.
So when we walked around the village before bed we called. And She was worried. He never stayed out all day, never missed food.
The moon was so so bright, silvered cloud, deep dark shadows. The night before dawn this morning was as dark as could be. Moon had set. The earth was waiting for sunlight. Tonight it is splendid in the silver light of the moon.
Still no Maurice, and then there he was, on the path, tail high in the moonlight, and into Her arms he jumped and She hugged him, so close.
Seems that he was just keeping company with Mr Griffiths in the small white cottage next door. And Glyn always has a bowl of catfood for a hungry cat.