by Luna Challis
One day a young man came into the Bookpost are asked if there was any mail for David or Paula Fox. Michael went to the little area with shelves for the mail for people who don’t have post boxes. He gave three letters to the man from the shelf for mail to people whose name started with ‘F’.
The man talked to Michael for a while. He and his twin sister were students at Adelaide University.
Instead of living near the university in a small and over priced little place they had decided to live a bit further away, and were renting an old and dilapidated farm house for a very low rent. David made it clear that he didn’t like his landlord:
“But the rent is low all we have to do is put it into his account every month.”
David added:
“We’re from New Zealand. We don’t have much help from the government although our scholarships pay the uni fees. But New Zealanders are allowed to work in Australia without restriction and we’ll get whatever jobs are available. Do you know anyone in the area who needs help?”
Michael and David talked for a while and later Michael was able to get him part time job working for the kind farmer. The farmer and his wife hadn’t been able to go for a holiday for ten years. David milked the cows and looked after the farm during a break from university so the farmer was able to take his wife on holiday to Cairns in North Queensland. They were going to do some diving on the Great Barrier Reef.
David had worked on farms in New Zealand and knew how to milk cows, maintaining the very high standards of hygiene needed for milk production on both Australian and New Zealand farms. One part of the hygiene is not having rodents in the dairy. This was where I came in, as a mouse catcher par excellence. I had helped the kind farmer keep mice out of the feed areas of the dairy, and he regularly rewarded me with a small saucer of milk. David continued with this arrangement and we became good friends.
One Saturday I was out exploring a little outside my usual territory when I met David. I would often see him out running. He was a good runner and liked to keep fit.
He stopped and spoke to me:
“This is a bad day for a Cat to be out.”
He carried me to a small group of trees and lifted me up onto a branch. He got a small piece of dried liver from his pocket and gave it to me.
“You’d better stay here for a couple of hours.”
It was a nice tree and I feel safe in trees so I stayed there.
David ran off, and as he went I saw that he had his surname in big letters on the back of his tee shirt: ‘FOX’. He got to a fence, climbed over it and ran on. Then he did a very strange thing. He stopped and ran back the way he had come, climbed back over the fence and ran back to the trees. He jumped and grabbed a branch and climbed up. He was panting hard with the exertion of the running and climbing. We climbed higher and he appeared to be waiting, so I waited with him.
After a while, a pack of Fox Hounds ran through the trees, apparently tracking David’s smell on the ground. We kept quiet. Then the hunters came on their magnificent Horses. We watched them as they followed David’s path. The Dogs and Horses jumped easily over the fence. But when they got to the place where David had doubled back the dogs milled round in confusion. David saw this and got back onto the ground. I meowed a warning. We were safe up the tree, but he was in danger on the ground.
He ran off, but I had suspected would happen; one of the hunters saw him going and they turned the hounds back onto the track. He ran over a hill where I lost sight of him, but a little later, he came back into sight with the hounds close behind him. David was badly winded with his running, but put on a burst of speed. I meowed as loud as I could:
“You stupid Dogs! He’s a Human, he isn’t a Fox, that’s just his name.”
But they ignored me completely even if they could understand Cat.
I was willing him to reach the safety of our tree, but just as he got there the hounds surrounded him. I closed my eyes; I couldn’t bear to see my friend torn into pieces in front of me. But the barks were joyful, not what I would have expected of a killing frenzy. So I opened my eyes.
The Hounds were all round David and he was sharing out a whole packet of dried liver amongst them, patting and stroking them and calling some of them by name. The Master of the Hunt came and said:
“Congratulations, Mr. Fox; that was an excellent hunt. Will you be available again next month?”
“Yes, if you want me again.”
“Come to the after hunt barbeque and we’ll discus it and the bonus for this hunt.”
Falcon
For much of my time at the Bookpost after my brother Phantom died I have been the only Cat, but then another Cat started hanging round the place and would come in when the doors were opened. This Cat was not a youthful and beautiful one like me, but was extremely old, had only one eye, limited vision in the other one and was mostly deaf. He was also suffering from senile dementia, so I was never able to get his story from him. He accused me of taking over his house, and he seemed to know his way around the Bookpost.
The Bookpost was built about 50 years ago, although its name has changed several times. My guess is that Falcon had lived there over 20 years before when other people had it. The people in the hotel next door saw him as well and took him to the vet in Woodside. The vet checked him and found he had no infectious diseases, but unless someone would look after him, he was going to have to be put to sleep.
Kathy went and got him from the vet; they were very glad that someone was going to look after the old Cat. He lived in our back area. The one time he was allowed into the front when I was there he jumped on my back and tried to bite my head. I was terrified, and Cora screamed. I was unhurt, but the new Cat which Kathy was now calling ‘Falcon’ was too unpredictable to be with me.
The Humans fed and looked after Falcon and he obviously enjoyed their company, but after a few months he died peacefully in his sleep. Falcon had come back to his old home to die.
Cora and Michael buried him in the garden. I sometimes visit his grave and quietly morn for the Cat I never really got chance to know properly.
The Intruder
Normally Michael sleeps in his bedroom at the Bookpost with me on his bed, but sometimes he goes and sleeps at Cora and Steve’s house.
On one of these nights I heard someone outside quietly trying all the doors and windows of the building. If I were a dog I would have barked, but a cat meowing is much less intimidating, so I kept quiet and hid.
Eventually the intruder found a very small window not properly locked; it was much too small for most Humans to get through. From my hiding place behind a chair I saw a young boy climb into the room. He looked about 9 or 10 years old, but was very thin and short and looked and smelled as if he hadn’t showered for days. He was dressed in clothes so ragged that they looked about ready to fall apart. He must have had good eyesight because he saw me immediately. He said:
“Hello Luna, I hope you won’t tell Michael about me coming into his house. It’s raining outside and I’m very cold.”
I wasn’t surprised about him knowing my name and about Michael because everyone in Charleston knows us. I don’t know how he knew Michael would be away that night; perhaps he watched him leave.
The boy went and had a hot shower. I find the human way of washing to be strange. I hate getting my fur wet. Of course humans only have a little patch of fur on their head and they lack the superb flexibility of a cat so they can’t lick themselves very well. But this time I could see the point; the hot water warmed the boy up. After the shower he carefully cleaned up the bathroom so Michael wouldn’t see that it had been used.
The boy went through the front room of the shop looking longingly at the food. He even took a Magnum icecream out of the freezer, but although the temptation must have been fierce he sadly put it back. He looked longingly at the milk and the flavoured milk through the glass door of the fridge.
Then he explored the house apparently looking for some food that Michael wouldn’t see was missing. Eventua
lly he found some. One of the foods Michael gives me is Supercoat dry cat food.
There was an open bag in the back room and he started eating it, but was sharing it with me. He said:
“Even if Michael sees that there is less food in the bag he will just think you’ve eaten it straight from the bag.”
I thought about this, and had a brilliant idea. I like milk, but Michael doesn’t give me as much as I like. After the boy had had enough cat food, I meowed at him until he followed me to the second room of the shop which is full of books apart from a small fridge. Michael’s coffee is locally famous, and he keeps the milk and other things he needs for the coffee in that fridge.
I meowed in front of the fridge. The boy understood that I wanted him to open it. He saw the open litre container of milk, and quickly got the right idea.
“Thanks Luna; if I drink a little bit, Michael won’t notice anything missing.”
He carefully poured himself a cup of milk and gave me some in a saucer.
Charlie’s Story
The intruder found a good book. This was rather easy; the Bookpost is a bookshop. He went and lay down in the spare bedroom and started to read. I joined him on the bed and he gently rubbed my head while he told me his story. A lot of people talk to animals despite believing that we don’t understand them. And this boy was lonely.
He told me:
“I’m
