PATCH'S STORY CHAPTER TWO

Patch's Story 

Chapter Two

Yes, we live in France and very happy we are here. Although recently things seem to be changing. Whereas the most important thing for her was the garden it seems that she goes there less and less. She used to be out there all the time, Summer, Autumn, Winter and Spring. When I was younger I used to be out there too. Sometimes I'd play in the grass and catch mice and things. Did I tell you, that's why we are here me and my sisters. It seems that the Boss brought two cats here with her from England but they both died. She was very upset and grieved for a long time and I heard her tell someone that she didn't really want any more cats. She even painted a portrait of one of them.

Jasper on Van Gogh's Chair

Anyway, what happened apparently she was overrun with mice. One even ran across her bed when she was on the phone. They had taken over the kitchen and chewed everything in sight. Then her friend rang and said that a cat had given birth to five kittens in her wood pile. She said that she would have them all. Well Sylvaine, the friend, already had half a dozen cats so she brought the three of us over. Apparently she couldn't catch the rest. So that's why we are here. We moved in and the mice moved out. The three of us occasionally catch one and bring it for the Boss to see how we do our job but that does not please her. She creates a right fuss and makes us take them out again. You would think she would be pleased since we are only doing the job that she adopted us for.

Now where was I? I was about to say how things seem to be changing. She doesn't go into the garden much lately, not even to cut the grass. Grass cutting has always been a big feature of our lives here. Well there's so much of it. I have heard her say that it takes six hours to cut it all. I keep out of the way when she is doing it. I don't like the machine she uses, horrible noisy thing it is.

Strange things are happening. A couple of months ago the Boss had just got back from visiting a garden sale with a friend. She was just about to ring her tennis mate to see if she could go to her's to watch the match when a French couple just turned up and knocked on the door. They looked in every room in the house, they inspected the garden and then they all sat around the table in the conservatory and talked for a very long time.

I didn't think anything about it at the time because it seemed a bit like the Monday Group. Have I mentioned the Monday Group? No?  She has this group every Monday for her French and English friends to get together to speak French. They also play games and drink tea and eat cake, a lot of cake. Someone always brings a cake. Lorraine's are the best because she bakes her own. The Boss rarely provides one and if she does it's shop bought. Occasionally when she has baked a cake they make so much fuss about it you'd think it was ambrosia.

I know everything because I listen and remember. They don't see me because, as I said before, I hide under the settee. 

 As I started to tell you, things seem to be changing. She spends everyday filling boxes. I didn't think much about it at first because I thought she was just decluttering. It's not that though because she is piling the boxes up around the house. Then last week she put loads of things outside on tables and people came and I think they bought stuff. As I said at first I thought ok she is decluttering but no. The piles of boxes just are just getting higher.

PATCH'S STORY

 PATCH'S STORY 

CHAPTER ONE

That's me stretching out and basking in the sun. I am lying in the corner of the white settee in the conservatory. This spot gets the sun nearly all day. It is also very convenient for me. You see I don't like visitors or my two sisters, come to that. When people arrive they usually head for the conservatory. So, to avoid all that annoying," Oh isn't she lovely", stroke, stroke, I slip off and under. Nobody ever looks under the settee. I can get inside the base. It's warm and comfortable and I am never disturbed there. Even when she, that's the Boss has her Monday meetings, I stay there.

The Boss. That's what I call her. She lives here with me and my sisters. We used to be friends, my sisters and me but we've grown apart. When we were kittens we could cuddle up together but now we need more space. Bella, she's the 'so called' beautiful one. She weaves between people's ankles and let's them stroke her. Cheeky, she is cheeky. She looks at people with that 'you don't know what I am going to do next but look how cute I am'. They annoy me intensely. Bella spends the whole day sleeping in the Boss's chair and Cheeky sleeps all day in the Boss's bed. And I mean in bed, under the quilt. I don't know how she breathes.  At night she sleeps near the Boss's head and I sleep on the Boss's feet. I know she likes that because I've heard her tell people.

Every day has been the same more or less for years. We, that's me and the Boss begin the day with a cup of tea in the garden. Well of course she has the tea not me. When I say in the garden I have to explain that it's a big garden. Five thousand square metres. She must be proud of that fact because I've often heard her tell people how she has turned a field into a garden. Anyway, back to our routine. Most days, we walk up the steps, past the big shed, through the autumn garden then under the rose arch into the meditation garden where there is a pond in the far corner. There is a very nice bench with room for two. Her and me of course. Sometimes one or both of my sisters come and snoop around but they never stay. They just walk past through the wisteria arch into the wood. 

 There is a lot of wisteria in the garden and around the house. I've heard her say that the wisteria by the house was the first thing she planted because she wanted it to go all around the whole house. Now it does. That was before I came of course sixteen years ago. The latest project in fact is to create  'Wisteria Lane'. Some friends have erected huge metal arches. She wanted it high enough so that the wood man would be able to drive his enormous lorry through. The wisteria that has been planted and is doing very well and the whole lane will soon be dripping with blue candles.

After the tea I stroll back to the house but she stays and does about an hours work, cutting back and planting or weeding. I am not sure exactly because I spend most of the day asleep. I know she goes back to the house to make a breakfast which I'm pretty sure she takes into the garden. So the days pass. Me asleep and her in the garden, she says she loves it, it's her life. The garden I mean. Most afternoons she has a rest on my settee. I don't mind because she let's me cuddle up and it is usually still sunny. In the winter if it is cold she puts the radiators on and it gets quite cosy.

If it is raining the morning cuppa is taken in the greenhouse. It's quite a walk to the greenhouse. We go up the steps and turn right past the  big shed, past Shangri-La, a sheltered oasis behind the big shed, then onto the path with the ornamental grasses on the left and the rose garden on the right. The green house is great. It is usually warm and there is a variety of comfy chairs to sleep on. Sometimes we come here just to chill. Well, I chill and she reads. There are piles of gardening magazines in here and  a couple of novels. They are in French. She spends a lot of time studying French. Oh, I forgot to mention that we live in France.