MING THE SIAMESE CAT had learned how to spell. He hadn't intended to acquire this skill but Mr. Pink had forced the issue.
Every day for the last 10 years Mr. Pink and Ming had gone for 'walkies' . Ming would pull on the leash which had a small bell on it and their daily promenade was much admired by many in the small French seaside town where they lived.
Mr. and Mrs. Pink had lost control of Ming many years ago, and they were the first to admit that he ruled the roost with his wide violet eyes. If Mr. Pink was a little late in finding the leash Ming would smash a vase or too just to let his protests known, that Mr. Pink should really shape up and that he was wasting good sea air. Besides it was summer and the children were flying their kites over the turquoise sea.
Now the smashing of vases was becoming a problem for the Pinks, as was Mings general behaviour, - they were both now approaching 90 years of age, so in order to avoid the over excitement which was beginning to irritate them, Mrs. Pink said one day
'Are you going to take Ming W.A.L.K.I.E.S.' and she spelled it out to Mr. Pink under her breath. Now, for two days the vase breaking stopped but Ming, being an exceptionally intelligent cat, soon made the association of Mr. Pink's daily hunt for his leash with W.A.L.K.I.E.S. However, such was the level of his intelligence Ming decided not to reveal to the Pinks that he know what the 'W' word meant and he would sit peacefully, blinking slowly at Mrs. Pink who now spent most of her time in an armchair looking out at the sea which spread before her like a fine blue curtain.
As usual Ming would drag Mr. Pink along behind him as he sniffed at a daffodil here, or a crocus there, before they reached the Promenade where the white cliffs shone in the July sunshine.
Needless to say the eccentricity of the English was much remarked upon by the French but who, nevertheless delighted in the fine Siamese cat and the old man who looked as though he was being towed behind a steam engine, and always had a red face and an exasperated expressions 'Ah les Roastbeefs' they would cry as Mr. Pink went hurtling after Ming. But it was all done in good humour and Mr. Pink got on well with everyone, even though he spoke only a few words of French. Mr. Pink was a gentleman of he old school, who would lift his hat to the passing ladies and was not indifferent to the elegance of the French women who were promenading their poodles and who were all terrified by Ming.
NEXT EPISODE.
MRS. SMITH COMES TO TEA AND MING SPOILS THE CHOCOLATE CAKE.
10 July 2020
Mrs Smith, a large ginger-haired woman with a gap between her front teeth, came to tea one sunny afternoon. Mrs. S, as the Pinks called her, had an aristocratic accent and a lamentable use of bad language which made Mr. Pink blush. Ming kept his distance and would sit on the back on the sofa looking at Mrs. S. with his violet eyes half-closed, feigning sleep, but taking in every word.
Mrs. S. had brought a home made chocolate cake, and for some reason, his usual impeccable and balletic grace failed him whenever the Ginger Haired Lady came to tea. His left paw sank deeply into the chocolate sponge, creating so many expletive deletives, that even Mrs. Pink was embarrassed. Ming was sent in disgrace to the bedroom where he fell asleep, happy with his days work.
CHAPTER 3
SLEEP TIGHT DON'T LET THE BED BUGS BITE
It wasn't the bed-bugs the Pinks needed to worry about - it was Ming who slept at the bottom of their bed every night. All three slept soundly through the night - Mrs. Pink in a chiffon nightie, Mr. Pink in his striped pygamas, and Ming with a light snore due to a blocked sinus after his early years as a homeless kitten.
It was 5 o'clock in the morning that Ming would awake with the birds chirruping outside, full of the joys of spring, or summer, in this case, as the morning light filtered through the velvet curtains.
Ming went from deep sleep to full throttle in 30 seconds, bounded up to Mr. Pink and with his right paw hit the old man on the face. This was his wake up call - and it worked. Now Mr. Pink, unlike Ming, was not a morning person and his first words in the morning were usually as colourful as those of his friend Mrs. S. But he knew that the battle had ended before it began, so he put on his dressing gown, walked to the kitchen with Ming, tail at 90 degrees behind him, and gave him, what the Pinks called his 'Pate sedative' which kept him quiet until 9.00o o'clock when the Pinks had tea from their Teasmade - a relic from the 1960's.
CHAPTER 4. Ming learns to spell 'V.E.T.'
'I think Ming can go W.A.L.K.I.E.S. this afternoon
'Yes dear' replied Mr. Pink.
The minute Mrs. Pink said the 'W' word Ming pricked up his ears and Mrs. Pink said
'He knows, you know'
'Knows what, said Mr. Pink
'He understood me when I said W.AL.K.I.E.S.' and she looked at him as a mother looks at a gifted child.
'Well, be that as it may' said Mr. Pink, sweeping breakfast crumbs from the table, ' but he needs to go to the V.E.T'.
'V.E.T.' mused Ming
'give me two days' he thought as he preened his honey coloured coat and washed his black ears.
The association of the CAGE, the instrument of torture and the word 'V.E.T.' did not take Ming more than a morning to understand. Resisting the C.A.G.E. had become an art with Ming. First he put his two back legs on either side of the cage, and then he scratched Mr. Pink. This usually gave him a short reprieve, but Mr. Pink was a formidable opponent. The old man pushed Ming into the cage with all the force he could still muster and Ming let out a howl of primeval distress - to no avail. The J.A.B. for going back to England had to be done and the Pinks never left Ming behind.
'What is J.A.B.' thought Ming. It didn't take him very long to find out as the vet, clad in thick rubber gloves, pushed a large needle into his neck. It was at this moment he decided that he would have to get to the bottom of this new game.
CHAPTER 4 MING COUNTS THE LETTERS
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