[m i a o w] the cat

This afternoon, we had a dog. It looked like a thoroughbred. It wandered into the back garden and looked lostly at M. He called for me to come and see our new friend, Twiggy. We tied a rope to Twiggy’s collar and called the two numbers on her id tag. Messagebank and engaged. I played with Twiggy. We established that she loved the broom. She wrestled and gnawed it into submission. Evil broom. Twiggy’s owners continued to be uncontactable. She was so svelte and classy looking. A real supermodel canine. I was convinced she was quite smart (in direct contrast to almost every other dog I’ve met).

A-ha! I thought! Spunky, 80’s Norweigan band! Sorry.
Aha! I thought. If we let her lead us down the street, she might head for home and we can deliver her to her grateful owners who will shower us in riches and cheese. We used the mainsheet of Oomoo as a lead and set off behind Twiggy. She seemed to know where she was going. We spoke to people along the way…
“Do you know who this dog belongs to?”
“Have you seen this dog before?”
No one knew and no one had. Twiggy jogged with us trailing in her wake. We hit the end of the street. She did a loop. Then she tried to run along the lane that follows the railway track. No. It was becoming silly. M guided her back down the street, dialling her owner’s number again. Astonishingly, someone answered. And at exactly the same time that M was explaining where our house is, we were accosted by about five ten-year-old boys all saying “Twiggy!”
It turns out she lives in the house opposite ours. She just wanted a walk. Either beautiful and stupid, or bored and wily.