Dedicated with thanks to Matt, Claire and Lorraine

It being a really busy road – well, you know what Cockfosters is like at the best of times and today it’s pouring down – we were lucky to find a parking space so easily.  “If you take her straight into the vets, I’ll sort out the parking meter,” I say. 

So ActorLaddie sets off with Willow in the cat-carrier – heck, that’s seen better days. The carrier, that is, not Willow, who has been remarkably trouble-free in her sixteen years.  So far.

The parking meter takes me a wee while to figure out.  You have to feed it with these metal disk things called coins; they have a certain novelty value but I don’t see them catching on.  Ticket in car, check.  Car locked, check. Mask on, check.  And off to the vets.

“I’m with the chap who has just come in with a cat,” I tell the receptionist.

“No-one’s come in with a cat,” she says to me.  “We’re expecting Willow but no-one’s come in.”  I go back out, look up and down the parade of shops but there’s no sign of a cat in a carrier with an elderly actor that’s seen better days.  There is a sign for another vets down at the far end of the parade of shops.  Could he have headed down there, by mistake?  I ring his mobile and, eventually …

“Willow’s escaped from the carrier,” gasps ActorLaddie.  “She went under a stationary lorry, run across the Cockfosters Road and down some side street.  We’re trying to find her.”