Paw Prints in the Moonlight by Denis O'Connor

Author:Denis O'Connor
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: St. Martin's Press
Published: 2012-09-26T16:00:00+00:00

In the last few weeks of the summer term, whilst I was still very busy at the college, I had given Toby Jug the freedom to wander and play as he wished rather than shutting him in the house or tethering him on a lead in the garden. I believed that he was now mature and experienced enough to manage on his own, and he had his brand new collar. He loved the freedom and coped very well with his newfound independence. As far as I knew he stayed close to home and ventured over the fence to other gardens only where he was welcome, except of course for his clandestine visits to Alice’s greenhouse. But as my homecoming time approached he would always be waiting in the drive to welcome me. Until this particular day.

When I returned home on a Friday afternoon I was confronted by the worst fear any pet owner can have. Toby Jug was nowhere to be found.

Generally, he would sprint to my side from wherever he was playing or reposing as soon as he heard the car approaching. If he was not there to greet me immediately I had only to call his name and whistle and he would come running. On this occasion I whistled and called his name many times, but to no avail. This was most unlike him and I began to panic. First I checked the roadway outside the cottage. Had he been run over and left lying at the roadside? Thankfully there was no sign of him there. But then I began to think of other equally dreadful alternatives. Had he got caught by his new collar and strangled himself? Many alarming thoughts and improbable scenarios filled my mind as I searched everywhere I could think of looking.

All the while I could feel myself becoming more and more panic-stricken. He had never done this before and I began to fear the worst. Something terrible must have happened to him. Sad memories of pet cats disappearing without trace flooded my mind. As I rushed here and there in a lather of anxiety, I was stopped in my tracks by a faint whine which seemed to come from above. Glancing up with relief, I spotted Toby Jug high on the conservatory roof that sloped up to my bedroom window. In the throes of panic I had failed to look for him on the roof.

He turned when I called his name and gave me another whine of recognition but then turned his attention back to the window. He began to make the strangely aggressive chittering sound with his teeth that he sometimes made when watching birds through the kitchen window. He made no attempt to come to me and was obviously engrossed in something or other within the bedroom. Puzzled by this odd behaviour, I decided to investigate the bedroom from inside the cottage; perhaps a bird had flown down the chimney and was fluttering around the room, causing Toby Jug’s displeasure.

As I climbed the stairs I could hear a strange humming noise coming from behind the bedroom door.

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