Jean & The Rat

I don’t know who looks grumpier, Donald or his dog, Kevin. If it wasn’t for the size difference – Donald being a lumpish middle-aged man, Kevin a lumpish middle-aged staffie – they could swap hats and be done. As it is, they turn into the lane about the same time as me and Stan, so we all walk down together, me making the conversational weather, Donald being grumpy about it. That is, until we get onto his favourite subject: the ongoing dramas he’s been having with his elderly next door neighbour, Jean.

‘You never know what’s coming next with Jean,’ he grumps. ‘First it’s her legs, then it’s her central heating. The other day I got a panicked call. Donald! Donald! Come quickly! It’s horrible. And then the line went dead. So me and Kev went hurrying round there thinking the worst, but what happened was, her cat had brought a rat in. Only the rat wasn’t dead. It was just laying on the floor in the kitchen looking depressed, all of us standing round looking down at it, wondering what to do. Including the cat. Kev didn’t seem overly bothered. So I thought that’s it, I’ll have to kill it. But how? No way was I gonna stamp on it, I mean – urgh. I thought I might use one of the brass bed pans on the wall. But then the rat seemed to wake up. It gave itself a shake and made a dive for the organ.’

‘The organ?’

‘The old pump organ Jean’s got in the living room. It’s a horrible old cottage, Jim. Falling to pieces, you know. Hardly room for her and the cat, let alone an organ. Anyway, I said to Jean, I said well, that’s your rat gone where no one’s getting it. And Jean said well what if I play a B flat? Would that shift it? And I said I don’t know about music, and I’m not sure the rat’d does, either. It’s not as if it was one of them big church organs you play with your elbows and everything comes blasting out the pipes. So I poked around – with a poker, funnily enough – but nothing doing, and in the end I said she’d have to get the specialists in or let the rat come out of their own accord. Maybe the cat could finish it off then.’

‘And did that happen?’

‘Well I don’t know if it was the cat or maybe the rat couldn’t stand the racket. Not the organ, the TV. She has it on so loud I’m surprised the cottage is still standing. But either way she called me to say could I go round and dig a hole because the rat was lying out on the kitchen step and she couldn’t go outside to get to the shops.’

The lane branched off in two directions, so we said goodbye, Donald with the kind of heavy expression you might see on the face of a camel before it set off back across the desert. And when I looked down at Kevin, he was exactly the same.

doggerel & catterel

sitting on the sofa, laptop on lap
wondering what to write a poem about
whilst over in her basket by the cupboard
her head resting on a cushion
that actually has a picture of her head on it
a lurcher version of the Turin shroud
Lola is giving me a look
so professionally woebegone
it would make a robot sob
so of course, what else could I do?
I think about moving my legs
Lola is up and on the sofa
before my feet are on the floor
turning round a couple of times
then slumping into place
running through such a repertoire of chop smacking,
backward glances and eyebrow raising,
it’s perfectly clear
how disappointed she is in my behaviour
but – of course – blessed as she is
with a limitless capacity to forgive
she somehow finds the strength to move on
and starts scratching her ear
with an elegant back leg
quickly building up speed and intensity
until it’s a terrifying whirling blur
like the release of an over-wound toy
and just when I think I should intervene
because she’s in danger of ripping her ear off
and sending it flying across the room
it strikes me (I mean a thought does,
not the ear, thankfully):
isn’t this a bit like me?
metaphorically scratching my head,
wondering what to write a poem about
and then – something else:
maybe I could write a poem about how writing a poem
is a bit like a dog scratching her head
but of course, she’s stopped now
and her ears have flicked up
she’s heard something interesting
that demands her complete attention
something coming in through the cat flap
It’s Solly, Lola
You know?
Solly – the other animal that lives here?
The cat?