Felicity the Cat
Felicity the Cat was a grumpy sort.
His name, for example, made him very crabby. He was named after the farmer’s grandmother; but he didn’t like it. He wanted a proper name like rich, famous Cats.
This March morning, he woke up and stretched out. Looking in a broken piece of mirror against the farm house wall; he smoothed down his hair making himself presentable. One annoying lock of hair would simply not sit straight.
In the mirror he spotted distant figures of Hares tearing across the field to the woods. Shrugging and sighing, he curled up in the sun.
Snoozing in the April sun, Felicity was dreaming. He was famous like Gladstone, the top mouser at Her Majesty’s Treasury in Whitehall, London. Gladstone was a proper name for a Cat; with proud white whiskers and a somber, important mewl.
‘Good morning my good fellow!’
Felicity woke up to see Cecil the Dapper Fox.
‘What do you want Cecil?’ Felicity asked.
‘Scouting for a spot of lunch, I wondered if you fancied coming along?’ said Cecil stuffily.
‘No thanks,’ said Felicity; ‘I’m waiting on tasty Mice coming my way.’
‘Understandable and delicious; good day!’ and with that the Fox departed.
Felicity the Cat stretched and yawned widely. The May day was delightful; just the right temperature, not too hot, not too cold.
He had been having the most wonderful dream about being married to Félicette, the first and only Cat ever to go into space. They were dancing on the moon. She was attired in a magnificent ballgown.
In the field he saw Alphonse the Honest, Amiable Bull.
‘It’s too warm to write words for Alphonse today,’ said Felicity drowsily. Finding a lovely spot in the dappled shade of a silver birch tree; Felicity curled up snugly and slept soundly.
Felicity the Cat was as usual was dozing in the soporific June sun in his spot in front of the farmhouse. His silence was soon inerrupted by the passing of a group of gossiping Bees:
“Did you see…””What a mess!””Scandal!””Whatever must his mum think?”
Swiping at the noisy, talkative Bees; Felicity complained.
“Go away I’m trying to get some sleep,” he said whilst trying to smooth down a clump of fur that somehow had given him a minature mohican haircut. The Bees alarmed at Felicity’s ferocious appearance buzzed away quickly, with some shaking their behinds at him in warning.
The hot July weather made Felicity the Cat even more sleepy than ever. He got up occasionally to stretch his legs and clean his tail; otherwise would be found stretched out in a sunny corner of the farm.
Felicity dreamed about Tibbs the Great; the champion mouse catching Cat at the Post Office for fourteen years. He dreamed that he was a champion mouser and was being awarded a knighthood by the Queen herself!
Felicity’s nose and paws twitched while he slept.
A host of tiny eyes watched him sleep waiting for their moment to get past the sleeping feline.
“Run!” Came the squeak and a number of families of Well Heeled Mice ran past Felicity the Cat. Felicity awoke with a dopey head.
“What’s going on?” he asked as he rubbed his eyes. Running into the distance were Mice!
Felicity’s ear pricked up and his nose quivered. “This could be my ticket to fame!” he said out loud. With a quick stretch, he made after the Mice in the distance. It was beginning to get dark, this late August evening and Felicity lost sight of the Mice. Soon it was pitch black.
‘Time for a quick snooze,’ he thought.
It was dark and he was quite far from home, although how far he wasn’t sure. Felicity the Cat looked for somewhere to have a sleep after losing track of the well heeled Mice.
There was a strange yet peaceful sloshing sound which he didn’t mind; so finding what looked like a large box, he curled up in the doorway and fell fast asleep.
Opening his eyes in the cool September morning; they were blurry and all he could see was blue. Giving them a rub with the back of a paw, he looked more carefully.
There was water everywhere!
Felicity the Cat panicked; everywhere he looked he could see water in the October daylight. Vast amounts in all directions. He was on a ship and in the middle of the ocean! Gingerly, the tom Cat crept out of the big box and saw it was a container for shipping bicycles.
‘Where on Earth where was he going?’ he pondered.
Extremely wary of the water, Felicity took a quick trot around the ship. A sailor had lost his keys on the floor somewhere and Felicity pointed to them for him.
He ate very well that night in the ship kitchens.
They travelled for days, or at least it felt like that to Felicity the Cat. They arrived in port one chilly November morning.
It was a place called Brazil!
Felicity wandered the streets looking for food. He helped an old lady cross a street carefully and jumped in the path of a young boy who was about to run into the street without seeing a car coming. The boy picked him up and stroked him kindly, feeding him all sorts of exotic morsels.
He tried to talk to some of the local Cats, but sadly they couldn’t understand each other.
Felicity the Cat was stranded in Brazil in cold December. Not being able to speak the language; he instead tried to help people in the hope they would feed him and give him a kind pat.
Everywhere he went he helped; in a poor area he held a paint brush for an old man whilst he painted his door. In a ritzy nightclub, he mewled softly and stopped an argument between a couple.
Wherever he went Felicity was known and welcomed happily. He quite liked Brazil, but his home was his farm and the spot in front of the farmhouse.
Felicity the Cat’s exploits in helping the people of Brazil made him famous. The President himself pinned a special medal on his chest on a snowy January morning with a hearty “Parabéns!*”
He was feeling quite homesick; although he loved the people and especially their food it was soon time for him to leave and go home to his farm.
The President’s wife fixed him up with a big packed lunch of fish, meats and other treats and he was seen off at the docks with crowds, a fanfare and a big band with brass instruments.
“Obrigardo Felicity! Thanks Felicity!”
[*Congratulations in Portuguese!]
It took a few weeks of gentle sailing on a delightful cruise ship before Felicity the Cat got to England on a February morning. The Captain of the ship had insisted he ate at his table with him every night of the voyage.
As he strode proudly back up to the farm house, medal glinting; there was no sign of the Mice.
Seeing his usual spot made him sleepy; so after a quick clean and brush down he slunk over and curled up.
The Sheep were passing and one called out to him:
“That Felicity! He does nothing but sleep!”
The Angry Farmer 