I had a battle to buy it and paid over the odds to secure it because the other buyer foolishly admitted a desire to bulldoze it. His plan was to build a modern, six-double-bedroom property on the footprint of the original single-story house. I have never once regretted my decision.
Since moving in I have decorated and added a modern kitchen because the old lady who inhabited before me was still using standalone appliances and a cooker from the nineteenth century. A modern bathroom was required as well, but otherwise, the delightful cottage was untouched. It was small, but it had been big enough for Archie and me.
Amber was sitting on the carpet in the hallway twitching her tail at me in a display of bored annoyance. ‘It’s about time,’ she muttered, making sure I saw how disappointed she was before turning around to saunter off with her tail held high.
‘Yes, Amber, I’m sure you are not actually starving,’ I pointed out, shedding my coat and bending to take off my boots by the door.
‘My stomach is empty enough that it woke me from my nap, Felicity,’ she mewled in disgust. ‘That means I am operating on reduced sleep and will now have to squeeze in an extra nap before my main sleep tonight.’ What a terrible dilemma. ‘I see you brought the dog home with you again,’ she complained as she sashayed out of sight and into the kitchen.
I swung my hand to grab Buster’s collar, but he was already running, his tiny legs shooting him along the hallway carpet. He and Amber had never seen eye to eye, each of them doing their best to aggravate the other at every opportunity. Amber claimed the house as her own, constantly seeking ways to get the awful dog smell out of it. Buster believed the house was his and would mark Amber’s bed if he got the chance.
I kept her bed on the counter in the kitchen.
Hopping, as I tried to get the stupid zip on my left boot to move, I gave up and hobbled after my pets with one boot on and the other off. Buster was barking his death threats and must have got close enough to Amber to scare her because she made that horrible hissing rowling noise cats manage to create. Hobbling through the kitchen door, I got to hear something smash.
Shards of white china covered the stone tile of the kitchen floor. It was the lid from my Aunt Ida’s butter dish and as I tried to yell, ‘No!’ Amber flicked the base of the butter dish off the counter too.
Buster was on his hind legs, standing up to bark at the cat though he knew he was several inches too short to ever get to her.
‘Come here, cat! I’ll make mincemeat of you!’ Buster threatened.
Amber looked over the side and swatted his nose the next time he tried to jump at her. ‘There’s a good doggy. Keep acting predictably for me. Look Buster, there’s butter on the floor.’
Momentarily distracted, Buster glanced, saw the butter, and swooped on it. Sure, he wanted to kill the cat, but food was food. Unfortunately, he was dumb enough to eat the shards of broken china too. He would most likely think they were put there deliberately to add some extra texture and crunch.
I shooed him back, finally getting hold of his collar so I could drag him from the room.
‘But the butter!’ he barked. ‘I’ll clean it up for you.’
With a final shove, I got him into the hallway and shut the door.
Amber licked a paw with feigned nonchalance. ‘Isn’t it so much nicer with him anywhere but where we are?’ she commented lazily.
I blew out a frustrated sigh. ‘No, Amber. I like Buster living here. You and I have this conversation most days.’ From the cupboard in the corner, I took out a dustpan and brush along with some anti-grease spray and got onto my hands and knees.
‘Do we?’ asked Amber, still sounding bored. ‘I hardly remember. Any conversation about the dog isn’t worth remembering. Unless you wanted to talk about taking him to the vets, of course. I would listen to that conversation with interest. I hear they do a very cost sensitive service in both euthanasia and castration. I would even come with you to help you through any emotional nonsense you might feel.’
From the carpet tile, I looked up to meet Amber’s radiant sapphire eyes. ‘Emotional nonsense?’
She twitched her tail and licked her paw again, using it to wipe around her left ear. ‘Yes. You know how you humans get – all silly and teary eyed just because the dog’s carcass went in the bin.’
‘That’s horrible,’ I gasped, shocked that she would talk about Buster in such terms.
Amber paused her grooming to look down at me. ‘Only for the dog,’ she pointed out as if I might have missed a vital point. ‘You and I would be able to continue our lives and think how much happier I would be. That’s got to be worth the cost of the visit, surely.’
Becoming vexed, I got off my knees, scooped Amber and took her to the kitchen door.
‘You need to go outside and think about how awful I would feel if anything happened to either one of you.’ I plopped her unceremoniously on the step outside and closed the door.
‘But you would have me to comfort you,’ Amber explained, strolling back in through the kitty door as if nothing had happened.
I picked her up again, this time moving fast before she tried to escape me, shot the lock on the kitty door, and placed her back on the step outside.
With a wagging finger, I said, ‘Buster is your brother, and you should be nicer to
