Conversations with Wonka
Part One
Before Wonka, we were a bit solemn. After what seemed like endless cats and beloved dogs I had whittled down to Golly - an unobtrusive, selfless dark coated tabby cat who pretended not to be blind for ages, leaping here and there, even popping out and coming home again.
‘I must get my assistant, trainee to see this,’ chortled Mr Jones my most favourite and best Vet in the universe ‘ this is very unusual the way his eye is – you did know he was blind? No no and no. And realising that Mr Jones was a bit quick on the old putting them down for the faintest sign of ill health, said that Golly was having the time of his life, with or without sight. It was true!
And when I made my decision to move, which like most decisions are years in the making and very quick in the doing, Golly came too.
During the journey in the old peugeot/skylark with Golly sitting quietly and calmly in his basket on the passenger seat next to me, I had posed the question of us being shall we say, without a playmate. Wouldn’t it be nice I carried on, if me and Gol had such a playmate, to cheer us up, make us laugh and smile of a rotten day? Before we knew it, about six months later, Wonka had been delivered up completely fitting the bill.
Of course Golly had on occasions offered up some very sage advice. This top or that top? Do I look funny in these trousers? Golly’s placid stare would often talk me down from going out in the wrong outfit, the wrong shoes, scarf and so on. And being so benevolent, when Wonka blew in through the back door on a gentle summer breeze, he let him in.
From then on, it was all about Wonka really. Golly slept, Wonka played. He played with the old toys, the non toys, the new set of mice – I did have a long chat with Wonka about the availability of single items as opposed to packs. Packs of three, six, twelve, any combination you like except trying to buy just one. On this subject though Wonka stood firm. He chirped up, in his schoolboy voice, that if you lost the one mouse you were stumped. With three, there was always one on the go and two stuck in the dusty spidery corner under the blanket box. You know, the one where you had to practically dislocate your arm to get the two said mice out from.
‘Watch out!’ Wonka would screech as I nearly stepped on his favourite red plastic ball with a bell in. ‘Don’t say I didn’t warn you!’ he would shriek as I nearly fell to my death on a mouse on the stair. Yes life had become exciting again after a long shallow or is it fallow period. Golly slumbered on, waking to eat the food put straight under his nose and maybe popping out in the sun now and then. Wonka, due to his unfettered interest in the other side of the busy street, became housebound. A happy little prisoner gazing now at said street behind the safety of the bay window at the front.
Life meandered on really until gradually Wonka was relegated to a sort of counsellor come mentor, dishing out advice and guidance to me, on any subject that warranted such. Now whereas Golly has been cool and calm in his wisdom, Wonka was much more direct.
‘Me and Golly are starving!’ he would shriek as I poured through the door after another strenuous day avoiding pitfall after pitfall with the staff. ‘You didn’t leave me enough biscuits’ he would add, winding round the catfood shelf and tipping the packet of cat biscuits over.
‘I’ve had a god awful day – they’re on about gaps between contracts and Primes and all sorts of manoeuvres’ I moaned, carefully stepping over Golly who was patiently waiting to be fed.
‘It’ll all pan out! We love you lots’ shouted Wonka. I sipped my tea and wondered if it would. I pictured me in the skylark, piled up with the few things (lots of things) I had to have with me, and Gol and Wonkit secure in their baskets. Gol in the front of course and Wonkit on the back seat probably covered in the things I had to have with me. Gol would be silent and accepting whilst Wonka would be talking the entire journey. We would set off on our adventure. Usually when I thought of this our destination was Scotland. It always seemed best to run away to Scotland.
‘It’ll all shake down Mum.’ Wonka allowed Golly to wash him round and then raced upstairs to be there before I was.
‘Golly did that!’ – the bedcover was a scrumpled mess on the bed. ‘You left that window open all day and me and Golly were freezing’. I closed said window.
Further advice led to me having sausages and baked potato for tea.
Later on, and still ruminating on plots at work and whether my job was safe or not, Wonka reassured me. ‘You’ve still got me and Gol! Outside we heard a miaowing. Wonka sped round inspecting out of windows and sniffing at the back door. He also got on the kitchen worktop and put his head under the heavy curtain shielding me from the outside world. From here he could peer out the half glass on the door. Baba was outside.
‘Come on Ba’ I motioned him in. He was a black cat that might or might not live somewhere. Golly would have immediately offered him a home with us. Wonka however said not. ‘We’ve got enough on’ he decided. So that was that. Baba, so named for his piteous squeak, was allowed in to eat and straight out again. He did make efforts to become part of the household but Wonka was not to be swayed on this. Charming games with a wooden mouse that Wonka had never ever played with before, a playful roll over to show us his kitten like appeal – none of it worked.
‘We’ll starve. It’ll be too much for you Mum! And so Baba stayed on the outside.