This morning I got a call from a neighbour in the village who was having problems with the Internet, so I agreed to go over and help him if I could.

I got the car out of the garage and Francis decided to sit on the bonnet of the car at that particular instant. So I "shooed" him off the car, telling him that he could sit on the bonnet on my return, when the engine was nice and warm, so he could warm his bits. This is a favourite occupation of all three Simmons' moggies - the cats sit on a warm car bonnet in the sun, soaking up the rays and warming the nether regions at the same time. It also explains why my nice white car has a semi-permanent pattern of cats' paws tracking all over it in a delicate shade of dirt gray...

Anyhow, Francis was duly "shooed" off the car and I got in and drove off along the driveway and turned out on to the road through the village. I had gone about 300 yards when I heard a pathetic "Me-ow!" The noise came from the direction of the back window and I looked in the rear view mirror. To my utter and complete horror, I saw Francis hanging on to the rear wash-wipe! Good God! He had jumped back on to the car as I got in and I hadn't seen this! He looked all the world like a feline Tom Cruise hanging on to a vehicle determined to stop the baddie getting away.

Thankfully, the road through the village is quiet - particularly on a Sunday morning, so there was nothing else on the road in terms of vehicles. So I slowly and gently brought the car to a halt at the side of the road and got out to rescue Francis "call me Tom - I do my own stunts - Cruise" from the rear wash wipe. Said moggie looked at me as if to say, "You got a problem with me being here?" as I grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and put him *inside* the car. I then turned round and drove home with Francis on the front passenger seat happily gazing out of the side window.

When I pulled back into Chateau Simmons' Francis rolled over on the passenger seat, purred and bared his belly in order for it to be rubbed. I, on the other hand, staggered back into the house, scared stiff of *what might have happened* and needed to lie down in a darkened room for half-an-hour.

Mind you, I saw Waffles on the front step, lounging in a director's chair, meowing "CUT!" to Marble who was carrying a cat sized film camera on his shoulder....

Copyright © Helen Simmons
January 29, 2001