Lost in Paris

On our next trip to Paris, Hannah was a little older, and a bit more confident.

One day all three of us were out shopping. It had been a long and tiring day, and we decided we wanted to get back to the flat, take our shoes off, and get a pot of tea on the go. Hannah begged to be allowed to keep on walking and window shopping, and we reluctantly agreed, after first checking that she had our address and my mobile number on a slip of paper in her pocket.

Things went well until it got late and Hannah realised she'd turned a few corners too many and the sun was almost down. It wasn't a disaster, as she had our address and phone numbers, but nevertheless it felt a bit scary. From close to her she heard a rough voice say "Mamselle - vous etes perdu?".

She looked around, but there was no one near. There was however, a cat sitting on a garbage bin. It was the biggest, blackest, roughest cat she had ever seen, the size of a dog, with one ear torn away in a fight and a great scar across its nose. It was looking directly at her. Feeling a little foolish to be talking to a cat in any language, let alone French, she said "Oui - un peu".

The cat nodded, took a mobile phone from an unseen pocket, and dialed:

"C'est moi - Albert. Je l'ai trouve."

"Oui"

 "Oui - certainment. Au'voir."

The cat turned to her said "Suivez moi" and headed off off down the street, not looking behind. Hannah followed it through a maze of backstreets and alleys, once walking right through a cheap cafe and out the back, and once climbing a low fence. Everywhere they went there were cats, sitting on street corners, on balconies and in windows. As they saw her and Albert they nodded to the black cat and then relaxed, curling up in a ball or wandering off to chase scraps of paper.

Eventually they turned a corner and were next to her apartment. There was an extremely well groomed white cat waiting for them, with a red velvet collar around its neck. After a brief murmered conversation with the white cat, Albert muttered "a bientot" and wandered off.

The white cat, which rather sheepishly gave its name as "Mr. Buttons" spoke perfect English, and explained to her that since Hannah had taken such exemplary care of her cat Colin when he was recovering from having his back legs run over by a car, the Conseil International des Chats had awarded her the status of Virtuous Human, and that this was recorded in the log books held in all the great cities of the world. When the local cats had noticed that Hannah was late getting home they had raised a city wide alarm.

Hannah thanked Mr. Buttons and went inside for a cup of tea.