Skimbleshanks the Railway Cat

     During the course of morning surgery a new client came in. They were a wholesome looking family, quietly spoken cheerful Dad, three well behaved kids sporting wrist bands for various causes and an admission bracelet for a recent festival, the eldest daughter wearing a hoodie with the Greek fish logo. They were talking about having been on retreat over the weekend – the very image of a modern Christian family – a little bit socks and sandals. 

     We took down their details and made up a new file. They had come in to register their cat. After a bit of a chat they told me that the cat had just turned up one day and moved in. It walked in quite calmly, found an armchair, and stayed. It was clearly enjoying its new surroundings and was even purring in its basket at the surgery, a happy wee cat. They had no idea where he had come from, they lived in the Station House down by the river and there weren't really any other homes or farms around. The father was feeling a bit guilty about not coming in sooner, the cat had been with them for around 3 weeks, and having decided to keep him they would like to start vaccinations, worming and flea treatment. Also might it be a good idea to scan him for a microchip? I reached for the scanner and started to sweep across his back whilst talking them through what they might need to know about keeping a cat. I was stopped in my tracks by a sharp beep from the machine – it had found a chip. This was a definite fly in the ointment – this cat belonged to somebody else and they cared enough about him to fit a chip so that if they were ever parted he would find his way back to them. I took down the number and broke the news – in all likelihood this cat had an owner and would have to go back home. 

     It took the best part of the afternoon for the nursing team to contact the microchipping database, get the personal details registered against the number and contact the owners. But Natalie worked her magic and we soon discovered that the cat came from a major town a good 12 miles away, an unattractive walk for any cat. It didn't make sense. I thought perhaps that he might have climbed into someone’s warm car engine and been trapped until the car stopped again until we looked up the addresses – both were beside railway stations. The cat had gone for a walk, hopped on the train, jumped off after a wee while and found itself in a brand new place! The only thing to do was seek out the nearest warm armchair. 

     There was a happy ending at least: the cat and his owner were reunited and the family decided that they had enjoyed being pet owners so much that they bought a kitten. All's well that ends well.