The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 3157 by Angharad Copyright© 2017 Angharad

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This is a work of fiction any mention of real people, places or institutions is purely coincidental and does not imply that they are as suggested in the story.
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I’m not sure what woke me up but for a moment I was completely disoriented. I lay there in pretty well total darkness wondering why I woke as my bladder wasn’t uncomfortable, which is usually the cause of nocturnal arousal.

Looking at my little digital alarm clock, which has its own light, I saw it was two o’clock and as dark as a black coffee. I lay down again and was snuggling under my duvet when I heard a noise. A scratching noise. I sat bolt upright. My first thoughts were rats or mice but it was coming from the area by the bedroom door. Switching on the bedside light I crept out of bed and popped my slippers on, then arming myself with a wooden coat hanger—okay, so not the best of weapons but it was short notice and the best available.

I crept to the door and yanked it open raising the coat hanger as I did so...a large tabby cat with tail raised high, purped and walked into the bedroom, rubbing itself against me as it did. I simply stood there in astonishment as the thing purred its way to the bed and hopped up onto it and began washing itself.

Feeling a bit of a wally, I quietly closed the door and replaced the hanger in the open wardrobe before making my way to the bed. The cat made another fuss of me and settled down at the foot of the bed. I cautiously got in pulled up the bedclothes and snuggled myself down after turning off the light. Apart from a gentle purring and slight movement on the bed from the self laundering feline, it was quiet and before long I was asleep again.

I awoke properly about six and found the cat tucked into the back of my legs, so when I stretched it purped again and began walking all over me. It reminded me of Trish with Bramble, usually the cat doesn’t move until Trish wakes up and they often come down together. When I turned over and tried to go back to sleep, it sat on my hip purring loudly. I wasn’t going to sleep anymore in any case, so I lay there refusing to allow a cat to outwit me. It was a lost cause, ten minutes later after it did a clog dance up and down my body I had to get up, either to kill it or simply stop the terpsichorean assault with purring accompaniment.

At six thirty I was sitting in the kitchen waiting for the kettle to boil while my furry companion feasted on the pouch of cat food I’d discovered in the pantry. The Aga kept the kitchen warmish—okay, it took the chill off the room—and I sat there watching the cat swallow down the food while purring. How can they do that, swallow and purr without choking themselves? But it did, then it went to the door pulled it open and disappeared through the cat flap, mission accomplished.

I went and showered and dressed and it was still only quarter past seven, so after drying my hair I went for a walk outside binoculars in hand. It was a fine but cloudy morning and I bumped into Mr Dunstan as he came back from walking his two dogs, a springer spaniel and jack Russell. He seemed surprised I was up and about and immediately offered to make me some breakfast. I told him I like a little walk first so he said, ‘half an hour then?’. I nodded and he went in while I walked around the upstairs gallery looking out over the walls especially up towards the direction of the Cairngorm National Park.

Stanebury is situated between Dunkeld and Pitlochry, just off the A9 and you can see the mountains in the distance. I looked out towards them with binoculars and was pretty sure I could see an eagle, probably a golden one and if so the crow after it could be a raven. I watched the interaction for a few minutes until they both flew too far away and then returned to the kitchen where a sleepy Danielle was talking to a yawning Hannah.

“There you are, Mummy, where’ve you been?”

“I just went for a little walk.”

Mr Dunstan appeared with a tray laden with plates of bacon and eggs and rack of toast. The girls tucked in, scoffing everything in sight as ate mine more sedately and Mr Dunstan asked if he might dine with us.

“Please do, this is an informal visit and I’d hate to think of you eating outside in the butler’s pantry alone.”

“You’re very gracious, your ladyship.”

I glared at him and he winked. “I take it it was you who fed the cat, ma’am?”

“Yes, he turned up in the middle of the night and hopped up on the bed, made himself comfortable and stayed there until he wanted his breakfast.”

“I’ll make sure he’s kept out tonight, ma’am.”

“Don’t worry, he was no problem and kept my feet warm. What’s his name?”

“Albert, ma’am.”

The two girls thought that was hilarious.

John Dunstan explained, “He was one of two kittens found in the grounds and we called them Victoria and Albert. Sadly, the female was killed on the road a year or so back, so he’s got the run of the place to himself. He’s a very good mouser.”

“Obviously the allure of a soft bed was greater than his need to decimate the local rodent population last night.”

“So it would appear, ma’am, I’ll make sure he stays out tonight.”

“Don’t worry about it, he was no problem and I was glad of the company.”

“Very well, ma’am but if he becomes a problem...”

“I’m quite capable of telling a cat where to go, Mr Dunstan.”

“I’m sure, ma’am,” he said unconvincingly.

“Don’t believe it, Mr Dunstan, Bramble, which is Trish’s cat, runs rings around her.” Hannah betrayed me.

“What did you have planned for today, ma’am?”

“Just to relax and mooch about, eh, girls?”

“Sure, Mum,” answered Danielle.

“Well be aware there could be snow up in the mountains.”

“Cool,” declared both of my two.

“It’ll be more than cool, young ladies, more like very cold and it can turn into blizzard conditions in a very short time.”

“Wow,” they agreed.

“That means it can get very dangerous.”

“Indeed it can, Lady Cameron, last year we had a young couple nearly frozen to death during one such episode of weather. It may be April, but it can be very capricious in the mountains.”

“Isn’t that where Ben Nevis is?” asked Hannah, obviously having done some geography or research.

“Ah not quite, young lady, Ben Nevis is a bit further west near Fort William, the mountain in the Cairngorms is Ben Macdui, the second highest in Britain after Ben Nevis. It’s about 1309 metres compared to 1345 for Ben Nevis, or there about.”

“Can we go and see them, Mummy, we were doing mountains in geography and I’d love to get a picture of one of them to show Sister Rose.”

“Mr Dunstan just said he didn’t think it would be such a good idea with possible snow around.”

“We don’t have to go right up to them, do we for a photo?”

I left Mr Dunstan to clean up as he gently eased us out of his kitchen.