The Missing Cat

October 26^th 2011

Blasted cat! It started whilst on route to the school restaurant, a reward poster with a grainy black and white picture of a missing black and white cat. The information was in Thai but the bit that mattered, the reward, was in bold ink - 10,000 baht (or £200 odd). A hefty payment for a seemingly simple task I considered. I wasn’t alone in my deliberating gaze to the poster; gap student George had a plan in motion. “Right, Will, I know your good at this sort of thing. We have to find this cat. 10,000 baht!’ He yelped as he jabbed his index at the deprived picture. “Sure, yeah, we can do that “ I shrugged. George sensed I wasn’t interested and the appeal waned. Little did he know, I had a little plan of my own.

This cat needed saving and the owners needed to know there was a man out there who cared and I did, deeply. Now I don’t like cats but I do like a mystery and this enigma was as odd it appeared simple. I had to consider the facts; cat – missing, owners – devastated, cat – black and white.…. I needed more facts. Where did it go missing? Where do the owners live? How long has it been missing? What is the cat’s name? I gave the number on the poster a call.

“Hewo” A woman answered.

“Oh Hi, My name is Will, I’ve seen you’ve lost your cat, I’m ringing to gather information so I have a better chance of finding it for you.”

“Wha’, you foun Ginger?”

“No, no, I haven’t fou

“You foun Ginger!!!! WHERE, WHERE?

“NO! I haven’t found Ginger!”

“Then why you call?”

“I’ve called for more information to assist with my investigation.”

“Wha? Where my cat? Why tell you got Ginger? You waste time!”

She hung up. The phone call didn’t go as planned and her manner was curious but I did gather the cats name, which, in itself was odd. Ginger? The cat in the photo was black and white, are the Thai’s that funny? I called my Husky Comb over but do Thai pet owners also have this streak of irony? I shall have to see.

I slept on the facts and awoke this morning with renewed optimism about the case. I decided I was going to split the reward money with whichever gap student offered the cheapest babysitting rates. Money has never driven me but the quest for truth, now that’s worth solving shit for.

I gave the number a call again around 9am. This time a man answered the phone, he was British and filled me in with details I needed. He explained that he didn’t really give a shit but his wife, the woman I spoke to yesterday, was suicidal. The moggie had been missing for 2 weeks and he knew that probably meant Ginger was dead, but, he said he’d pay the reward even if I found him dead as it would bring his wife closure. They lived about a kilometre away from the school and she had plastered nearly every street lamp and telephone pole with the same grainy poster. I headed over to close proximity of their home. They lived in a nice isolated house near a small pond. I had a look around but no clues. I foraged for an hour and was about to leave when a man approached. He was smaller than I both in height and build but walked with the confidence of a giant. He was in his 40’s and looked fit with still a full head of bright red hair and a day or two of stubble.

“Alright mate, You English?” He barked in an unmistakable cockney slur.

“Um yeah” I replied, a bit unsure of whom he was. It wasn’t the man who I spoke to on the phone, the accent wasn’t right.

“What you doin’ in these bushes mate? There’s fuck off snakes in there!”

“Shit! Is there?” I exclaimed as I casually marched towards the road.

“Fuckin’ Mental! What yer looking for? You been in there for ages I’ve been watching yous from my windah, mad bastard. Surprised you aint been bit already.” He said checking my legs as I made my way from the bush.

“I’m looking for a cat”

“What their cat!” He said as he pointed to the owners’ house.

“I believe so………Ginger. “

“Who you calling Ginger you little twat! You may be younger but I swear I’ll thump yer one!......”  He stared in anger, clenching his fists.

“That’s the name of the cat,” I said trying to calm him. His fists still poised he continued to stare, unmoved by my plea. A minute later and not a word noted he blinked, lowered his fists and turned.

“Even in fucking death that cat mocks me.” He whispered as he faced his house.

I was confused but aroused, this man knew something. I let him calm down then approached and said calmly “where’s the cat?”

He slumped his shoulders, let out a sigh and confessed-

“It started three years ago, we were best friends, like family. As ya can see we’re neighbours and we arrived a few months apart and ‘ad good ol’ times. Then they wanted to extend their house, fine I thought, why not. They did and if you look over there you can see they did a good job. Whatd’ya reckon?”

“Um yeah, it’s a nice house”

“That’s because I did the job didn’t I?.... Blood sweat and tears went into that build and I did it all for next to nothing, BANG! Know what I mean?... Things were fine, we went round for the unveil and they toasted me. Soon though, the invites stopped and I ‘eard through other mates that I wasn’t welcome there no more. That’s a bit off I thought so I went round there, they turned me away, no explanation…….”

“Why”

“As I just said kid, no explanation…. I went mad, after all I’d done for them and they just toss me aside……….. So a neighbourly war kicked off, I’d put shit in their letterbox, they’d poison our water supply, that sort of thing…. Then they went too far, they did somthin’ sick.”

“What”

“They got three kittens and named them Cockney, Ginger and Twat.”

I nearly died of inside laughter when he told me this but he was a hot head so I couldn’t let on. I tried to talk but I knew if I did I’d laugh so I just put an arm round him and looked sympathetic.

“A year and a half I’ve had to put up with them shouting ‘cockney ginger twat’ or ‘twat cockney ginger’ or ‘ginger twat cockney’. I could put up with the cockney twat but when people call me ginger I lose my mind, I’m not even Scottish, know what I mean?”

This was brilliant, I mean really cruel that a man could be so traumatised by something that blighted him so, but Cockney, Ginger and Twat, names for their cats, that was brilliant. Still I had a case that needed a solution and the ginger cockney twat was close to a confession.

“I couldn’t retaliate, they’d won. Or so I let them think. I’d leave ‘em to it all time, every night hearing the calls, I stayed calm and waited until things blew over. Then a month ago they stopped shouting the names. They came round, I invited them in and they apologised for what they had done. I accepted the handshake and off they went thinking we’d wiped the slate clean. They thought they won BANG, know what I mean? So I waited two weeks, things were pleasant but no one calls me ginger for that long and gets away with it, know what I mean?”

“What did you do?” I asked, feeling better about smiling.

“I abducted Ginger and drowned him in their water supply barrel! Ha, Fucking BANG, know what I fucking mean! He’s still in there, he must be. They’re running round looking for their precious and all the while THEY’RE FUCKING DRINKING HIM! Hoot shit that feels good.”

I was opened mouthed but cool, this was an astonishing tale and something I doubt I’ll ever come across again but the man was mad and volatile so I had to make an acute decision and tell him my plans. I turned to him and grew. My chest puffed out and my smile morphed into a frown, I started

“Right, I need my reward so I’m off to tell your old buddy’s what you did to their cat. You’ve probably poisoned them also but expect the police either way. I’m unsure as to why the relationship between you broke down and I will try to find out but this war went to far from the start. I suggest yo”

“I don’t give a shit if you tell em kid, that’s the whole fuckin’ point innit?”

He turned and skipped away back to his house, he was singing, I couldn’t make out which song but it was joyful. He didn’t turn back, it appeared he was ready for the consequences; in fact it seemed he revelled in them. Was it in his plans to suffer the penalty for such a cruel act? Who knows?

I knocked the door

“Hello we spoke earlier about your cat.”

He was a small man, older than the cockney and had a full head of white hair. He had a soft Yorkshire accent, looked fit and could well of been older than his appearance suggested. Thankfully his wife wasn’t in, so he politely showed me to the kitchen and offered me some water, I commenced with the tale…….

“…………..So if what I’ve just been told is correct your cat is in your water barrel.” I said gingerly.

He reacted the way you’d expect, like I did. He gawped. Sat there open mouthed he replayed the story through his mind; I could see it wasn’t adding up.

“Why would he do that?” He finally managed to blurt out, expecting me to have an inside clue. I had nothing. From the outside it was a mad tale and I expected this man to maybe shed some light on his neighbours actions, he didn’t. He was shocked. I decided to dig and go back to the start of their falling out.

“So why fall out in the first place? He says he built your extension, were you unhappy with the job?”

“No far from it, the job was good and he hardly charged us a penny, we are eternally grateful but…”

“But what?”

“He was dirty”

“Dirty? How so?” I probed.

“Well, before he did the job we had nothing against him, he was a bit weird but who isn’t? Then when the build commenced I started to notice that every day he’d take a trip our pond and take a dump. Every day. He pissed in there also. My wife found him one day and he acted as if it was normal. I just couldn’t see past it, I couldn’t bear the sight of him, he was dirty.”

“So you fell out because he shat in your pond?”

“Yes. By the time the work was done there was a mound of shit gathered to the side and I had to clean it up, he is sick. So I just stopped speaking to him or inviting him round…….. The job he did was great but I had to clean up his shit, you understand?”

I understood.

“Then because of our distant stance we started receiving parcels of shit through the door!”

What!

“I had to retaliate. We tried pissing in his water supply barrel but that was met with more shit so we bided our time. I remembered he had told us he hated being called ginger so we brought three kittens and called them Cockney, Ginger and Twat!” He afforded a smile, as did I. “Every night we’d call out for the cats and made sure he heard. It was subtle but really got under his skin. We didn’t bore of that too soon let me tell you. The parcels of shit stopped and we gathered he’d given up. We continued our fun for a while but we began to feel bad so we stopped and a couple of weeks ago offered him an olive branch, which, he accepted. When Ginger disappeared I didn’t think once to suspect him, I thought our duel had ended, I thought he was ok again, I’d almost forgotten about the parcels of shit!”

Head in hands the man was in utter disbelief. As was I, what a pickle this had evolved into. I asked him where the water barrel was, he showed me. Lifting the lid I noticed the stench immediately, even submerged in water a dead cat stinks. I fucking hate cats.

He handled the situation perfectly, taking Ginger from the water he marched with great determination and vigour to his neighbour’s house and damn near beat him to death with the rotting corpse! The cockney took the beating, half expecting it. Did he learn his lesson? Maybe not to drown cats but even then he still loves to shit in public, which is weird.

I got my 10,000 baht and was even invited back for a beer once his wife had come to terms with the events. Would she be able to? Who knows? At least she still had Cockney and Twat to play with I suppose.

Another fine day in Thailand and the case of the missing cat – solved.