Help wanted

St Louis-Marie
Yesterday's weather: Lovely, sunny and warm

We have been looking at the possibility of a trip back to the UK before Christmas. The main purpose of which is to visit family and friends in a flying visit which will pack in as many people as possible in as few days as possible. In order to do this we are looking for a cattery or cat sitter.

I probably should put a notice in the local paper: 'Staff wanted'. All they really want is someone to open and close the door for them all day long and feed them on demand. Their time is their own and they spend most of the day in the garden or off hunting in the copse, popping back now and then for a light snack of chrunchy biscuits flavoured with heaven-knows-what and added vitamins. All summer long the kitchen door has sat open for them except in the most extreme heat (rare this year) and howling gale when they are more than likely to bt tucked up in a cosy corner inside.

Now we have hit the season of mists and mellow fruitfulness it is becoming chilly in the kitchen in the late afternoon and we tend to close the door earlier than the cats would like. Hence we spend a good couple of hours letting them in and out, one after the other. It is a trait of the Maine Coon that they are snackers and will eat several small meals in one day rather than one or two larger meals as most of our previous moggies did. Ours even take their snacks in small portions and will snack over fifteen minutes or more popping outside to check that the garden is secure from some invisible threat between nibbles. This can mean a lot of opening and closing doors.

They have different ways of dealing with the closed door which is glass from top to bottom. Jazz will sit outside and fix me with a hard stare, knowing that I can't resist letting her in as she can be a rare visitor home sometimes. Misty approaches the door and looks bewildered.

'I know there's a way through here, but I can't work out what it is.' She seems to be thinking. Occasionally she will pat the door with her paw as if she can't believe that there is glass in the way or is it some kind of invisible force field like in Star Trek? Eventually she will give a half mew which is impossible to resist and miraculously the door is opened for her.

Figaro knows exactly what he needs to do. He will stride right up to the door and if it is shut he will attack it with both front paws, as if trying to run up it until we let him in. Sometimes if we are busy we don't react immediately and he will try the same tactic from the kitchen window ledge insisting that if the door doesn't open then surely the window will. If that doesn't work he will try a mixture of shouting to us and trying to run up the window or door at the same time. Which usually produces the required result.

He will then stroll into the kitchen, look us up and down as if to say:

'You just can't get the staff these days'.

If you know of anyone who would like to spend a few days as unpaid doorman to three delightful cats once in a while do let me know. Otherwise we will be saying (with apologies to Shakespeare) 'Get thee to a cattery'.