I guess, all in all, it had been a rough weekend for Monty Cat. We are currently awaiting installation of a catflap, so currently he is dependent on us to let him in and out of our house.
On Friday lunchtime, we let him out... and didn't see him again. Now, Monty Cat is not the sort of cat who will willingly skip a meal. In fact, if he thinks he can get away with it, he is fairly likely to try and con us into a second breakfast by vocally pretending he hasn't been fed that morning. We've even fallen for it a couple of times. He also tries to scam visitors in a similar way.
So we were worried that he hadn't come home, not least because we've just moved house onto a new-build estate, and there are a lot of building sites and potential cat-squashing machines all around.
We walked the fields in the area, calling him, with the toddler bellowing, "MONTY WHERE ARE YOU" at a volume that would have scared off a medium-sized shire horse.
It was over 48 hours before TheBloke (TM) found him; the not-too-bright cat had managed to get himself shut in an unused garage next door.. He was hungry when he came out. But he is generally hungry anyway, so he didn't seem to have suffered any ill effects.
The toddler was very sweet with him when he came back. She stroked him gently and told him she had missed him so much.
And today, he snuggled up with me on the sofa and let me take a cute selfie with him. He tipped his head back so I could stroke his furry chin. He purred and wiggled cuddlingly into my hugely-pregnant tummy.
Then he turned round and bit me. On the nipple. Right on the fucking nipple. It really hurt.
The ginger cunt. Anyone want a cat?