The Senior Cat came home early from his appointment. I heard him talking to someone outside the front door and wondered what was wrong. Before I could go and open it though he had the door open and he went on talking. The words didn't quite make sense.
"No you can't come in. Who do you belong to?"
Then there was a "yip" and the definite sound of toenails skidding on the tiles at the entrance. There was more excited, high pitched barking.
"We seem to have a visitor,"the Senior Cat said. The comment was completely superfluous. We had a visitor and it was letting us know it was there.
It raced around like a dervish. The Senior Cat just stood there. I was frightened it might send him flying too.
I eventually managed to grab the racing bundle of fur as it jumped excitedly on to me in the friendliest possible fashion. It looked at me. I looked at it.
"It" turned out to be "she"- a miniature dachshund. She was no more than a puppy with wonderful copper brown with ears that flopped at just the right angle for "I am cute and I know it". She wore a blue collar but no identity tag.
She gave me an adoring, "aren't I lovable and cute and you want to play with me" sort of look. I gave her a stern one and told her to "sit". She sat.
I then persuaded her into the laundry and shut the door. The Senior Cat went out into the street to see if someone was looking for her. No. There was nobody around at all.
"What are we going to do?" he asked, "We can't let her out again."
"I'll ring the council and ask for the dog-catcher to pick her up," I told him.
The girl at the other end was someone I know slightly, "Oh hello Cat what's wrong?"
I explained. I explained the lack of identifying tag.
"Hopefully she is chipped," I said.
"I'll send someone round."
I thought we might have to wait for several hours but someone was there about ten minutes later. The little lady had put on a real performance of yips and barks all that time but she greeted him like a long lost friend.
"You're an easy one," he said as he slipped on the lead. She looked adoringly at him too.
He took her out to his small van and checked her over.
"She's chipped," he told me, "We'll find her owners."
I hope so.
I would have liked them to clean up the mess she left on the laundry floor!