Name: Mower
Species: Felis Catus
Synonym: Catus Domesticus
Domain: Historicum Maritimum Museum
Usual Habitat: Voluntarius Effusus (Volunteer’s Shed)
Location: Historical Maritime Park and Museum Inc. Paeroa: Hauraki District, Waikato, New Zealand
Well. There we were. Again.
Well technically not again, as this tale is before the great E507H incident detailed in the last post.
It was last year actually. Labour weekend to be precise.
We, that is Mrs. N, Mr. N – (me), our homestay student X, and Mr and Mrs. W, (not that they come into the story much); had embarked on a weekend of cycling adventures, from Waihi and back through the Karangahake Gorge rail trail, complete with a 1 km long former rail tunnel.
Hot tip: The Waihi to Paeroa rail trail is grade one and downhill; a most excellent proposition when you are not seasoned bikers. Like us.
Additional hot tip: Remove dark mirrored sunglasses before entering the tunnel on your bicycle; lest you end up following the dim taillight of Mr. W, to prevent you from an unscheduled meet and greet with the brick wall of the aforementioned tunnel.
The cycling was most successful, e-bikes are awesome, yada, yada; just saying.
But I digress.
We had based ourselves for the weekend at the Historical Maritime Park and Museum in Paeroa. On our return, as we were settling in for an afternoon of relaxation, e-book reading (Mrs. N), coffee and potato chips, there was a shower of rain. Nothing unusual, and with the weather still warm and pleasant we had left the door of the caravan open, as you do.
A large, one could even say chonky, orange and white cat announced his presence at the door.
Orange & White Cat: Meeryooow!
It was Mower. Mower is the resident cat at the Historical Maritime Park, and he lives in the volunteers shed right next to where we had set up camp. We had met him before, a very friendly fellow and happy to receive pets from anyone who is willing to give them.
The Historical Maritime Park and Museum Inc. Paeroa; is his undisputed domain.
Clearly, he had decided that he needed to take immediate refuge from the shower of rain, and it was much too far to retreat a few metres further into the shed next door.
Mower: Meeryooow!
Mr N: Hello Mower!
Mower: Meoww!
Mr N: Well, come on in then.
With that Mower strode confidently into the caravan.
This caravan was our original Swifty, a small two berth Swift caravan. The sleeping, living, dining area was an all-in-one affair, and we never bothered with the faff of setting up and packing away our bed each day. We simply used the two side by side couches as both day seating and then as single beds at night.
Mower came and stood between the couch / beds to receive a how-do-you-do pet and scratch behind his ears.
Mr N. patted the bed beside him.
Mr N: Come on, up you come then.
Not needing to be asked twice Mower hopped up and quickly made himself at home at the end of the bed. For a start, he thoroughly inspected the soundness, and softness of the bed – (bambillo topper pad on top of the standard issue squab) – by making biscuits, his enormous paws and claws spreading out wide in alternating interrogative pulses.
Eventually he decided that the bed met with his approval, and he curled up for a catnap.
All this time Mrs N. had been deeply occupied with her e-book, across the DMZ on the other side of the caravan. She peered over the top of her tablet.
Mrs N: Someone has made himself at home.
Mr N: It certainly appears that way.
After about half an hour or so, his catnap complete and checking that the rain had stopped, Mower took his leave. With a luxuriant stretch and tail high, he hopped off the bed and casually strolled to the door.
Swifty eNZed - Start small. Start Now. 