Sir Thomas of Argyle, Bane of Mice (6)

From THE OFFICIAL TRAVELOGUE OF SIR THOMAS CAT, ESQUIRE

Translated from the Meowish.
Copyright May 1983


This story is dedicated to my husband's Aunt Eleanor Campbell Taylor and Uncle Rumsey Taylor, Sr., of Princeton, Kentucky, USA, in whose home the enchantment of Inveraray is alive and well on this side of the Atlantic. May the rest of us who come along after be able to carry on and never lose that enchantment forever.

[Part 6]

The Duke searched the  snow-covered weeds as he climbed the hill to the watchtower, moving the weeds gently with his foot and calling Thomas's name as the snow shook loose from the taller bushes. He circled the watchtower and called to no avail. Then a thought struck him. There was a little song about the salmon that the Duchess often sang to Thomas while feeding him. Maybe the song would coax Thomas out of hiding. Looking around to be sure no one was about, and feeling confident that Chief Maynard, who sang professionally on occasion as bass in a barber shop quartet, was now busy in his office over the crossword puzzle, the Duke began on the song in what could be said to be close to a baritone. He sang louder and louder, the sounds echoing back from the snowy hills. Then he stopped and fairly shouted again for Sir Thomas. 

"Thomas! Oh, Thomas, my cat! Where are you, Thomas?" he yelled.

"Me? Meow? he finally heard faintly in the distance.

Walking briskly in the direction of the sound, the Duke found himself heading toward the backside of the watchtower where some damaged fencing was collected, waiting to be mended. Amid the fence posts and gnarled wire, he found Thomas in the snow, barely conscious with one leg badly damaged. Thomas had found an excellent barricade in which to protect himself until he felt better, but the Duke was sure Thomas would need help to recover. Fur was matted all over, and cat's body was hot to the touch, especially on his nose and pawpads.