Wednesday, July 6, 2011

A Brief Adventure with Time

We have a 1930s Scottish longcase clock, which has been all over the world with us.  It plays the Westminster chimes and strikes the hours and its gently ticking has kept me company on many long lonely evenings when Marius has been travelling.

The ultra low humidity here does not agree with it, nor the packing up and moving, I suspect.  It has become tempermental in its old age.  Occasionally, it stops and catches its breath, which it did last night at 10:55.  Because of the complicated chimes, usually we leave it alone until the hour has caught up with where it stopped, and then we re-start it.   I did this morning.

Afterwards, I was sitting by the window writing in my journal and I heard a moan by the back door.  I went to investigate, thinking the new cleaner might have shut Macc out in the garden.  No Macc and no further noise.  I went out and called him and then had a look in the kitchen for him.  I called some more - he usually responds to me calling him - no answer. 

The new cleaner had just left and I wondered if somehow Macc had snuck out the side door when she went?  I checked upstairs in all his favourite hiding places and then put my hat and sunglasses on, pocketed my key and went outside.  Next door is packing a container for a move to Abu Dhabi - could he have got in amongst the packing boxes?  I called some more and feeling somewhat ill, went back inside.

I need lots of rest right now so after my exertions, I had a lie down, still worried but knowing that is what I needed to do.  I figured if Macc was out having adventures he'd come home soon enough and I couldn't go chasing after him.  I stretched out on the lounge and took a couple of deep breaths, thinking this is not the time to get yourself lost Mr Macc.  I closed my eyes.

I heard the cat moan again.  I knew it was Macc, and that he wasn't far away:  no, he was right behind me, trapped:

You see, I'd opened the door of the clock to advance it to 11, then went away while it struck the hour and had come back to adjust the time and then ...  I closed the door and walked away.  In the meantime, Macc had hopped in for a sticky-beak and was too silly to tell me he was there when I shut the door.

He was very pleased with himself - and a little pleased with being released.  What I don't understand is why cats don't keep telling you where they are trapped - but let you search all over for them and get yourself into a lather?

not bothered



jabblog said...

No doubt he will hop in there the next time you need to adjust your lovely clock. Cats, eh?

Janice x

Jenny Woolf said...

It's possible he liked it. Try leaving the door slightly ajar for him next time. :)