"I think you might be well enough to be discharged," Jennyanydots informed Munkustrap a few days after discharging Tantomile and her kittens, and having given him a final once over. "Your wounds are healing nicely and your temperature is now back at normal. However I would suggest convalescing at your human's place for a week or so, is that clear?"

"Yes Jenny," he agreed reluctantly.

She smiled and pinched his cheek like she used to do when he was young. "Good tom. Now be off with you!"

From behind a curtain, a pair of deep copper eyes spied on him. "Just turn around and see me!" They pleaded.

His head turned slightly. It was almost like he knew he was being watched. "On second thoughts don't!" Her heart yelped.

She sighed with relief when he turned back. But the relief turned to chagrin when he walked out of the entrance and away from her. "There goes me bleedin chance!" She hissed at herself and slammed her head back into the wall, before sliding down onto her backside. Feeling both desperate and despondent, her eyes stared blankly at the ceiling as she mouthed the words to a song that she had been singing to herself since the beginning of Summer. She started quietly, but then began to build up until she was singing at the top of her lungs. Some of the patients joined in and soon she had the entire ward up and jiving, until party pooper Jennyanydots came to quieten things down and briskly sent Rumpleteazer packing with a flea in her ear.

"Cats are cryin', gates are slammin'
The wind is howlin' 'round the house tonight
I'm as lonely as a boat out on the sea
When the night is black and the tide is high
Oh, on nights like these, feel like fallin' to my knees
Feel like callin' heaven please

Find my love
Find my love
Find my love
Find my love

Well I turn the dial on my radio trying to find an all night station
I want to hear a song I know, song about my situation
Oh oh, on nights like these, feel like fallin' to my knees
Feel like callin' heaven please

Find my love
Find my love
Find my love
Find my love

Somewhere out there there must be a boy for this girl
Could be anywhere, could be next door or the other side of the world
Call up my radio, give them my number
Tell them to put it out on the air
There must be someone
There must be someone like me
Sittin' lonely as a boat out there
Oh oh, on nights like these, feel like fallin' to my knees
Feel like calling heaven please

Find my love
Find my love
Find my love
Find my love
Oh, find my love
Find my love
Find my love
Oh, find my love
Find my love
Find my love
Find my love
Find my love
Find my love
Find my love
Find my love
Find my love
Find my love
Do I have to find my love?
Find my love
Find my love
Find my love ."

(Find My Love by Fairground Attraction)

Making his way towards his human's house, Munkustrap had to concede that Jennyanydots was of course, right as usual. He was morbidly out of shape. What was usually just a short hop turned out to be a journey of epic proportions and when he finally managed to crawl through his cat flap, he was panting heavily. He had a quick sip of water from his bowl (not even stopping to play with it like he usually did) before making his way upstairs, only to find his human, Isobel, still in bed? In the morning? What was going on? Was she sick too? He let out a high pitched, "Reeow!" to get her attention and she stirred a little.

"Zi? That you?" She asked weakly. "Where've you bin buddy?"

He answered with a small chirp, leapt onto the bed and uttered another concerned "Reeow!"

"I'm alright, just a bit of morning sickness that's all," she reassured him, giving his ears a scratch.

"Oh no!" He thought, "My human is pregnant!?"

Kittens were one thing but human babies were quite another! All fur grabbing and tail pulling! And you weren't allowed to scratch them either! Oh well. He'd just have to get used to the idea. He snuggled into her and she cuddled him close, rubbing his tummy as he purred and rolled onto his back. "I love you too, Zilar," she said.

A week passed, and both cat and human began to feel better. Isobel hopped into her usual morning shower and rolled her eyes when she heard the usual excited yowl, followed by the opening of the bathroom door. "Brrr! Zi! I'm going to have to teach you how to shut doors as well as open them!" she complained, but smiled at the sound of Zilar's excited meows.

She looked down and laughed, "Oh Zi! What are you doing, you daft cat? You wanted a shower too, did you?"

"Reeow!" Zilar replied, clearly fascinated by this artificial warm rain.

So much so that he had jumped in the shower with her and was happily swatting at the water like an overgrown kitten, getting thoroughly soaked in the process. He didn't seem to mind though. In fact, he seemed to thoroughly enjoy getting wet. "That cat never ceases to amaze me!" She thought.

What he didn't like so much was having to get dry. In fact he told her so in no uncertain terms by letting out a disgruntled, "mrrrow!" when she started to rub his fur with a towl. However he soon cheered up when the fur drying morphed into a quick game of peek-a-boo. "I can see that you and the baba are going to get along just fine!" She said to him.

Once she'd dried and got herself dressed, she heard a familiar, very loud, low pitched and very demanding "Meeooowooow!" coming from downstairs.

"Coming Zilar!" she called, still towel drying her long black hair.

She followed the relentless meowing down the stairs to the kitchen, only to find that her cat had jumped onto the worktop and was busy routing around in the cupboard for something. "Reeow?" He said to her hopefully and Isobel knew him well enough to know what his tone meant.

She sighed guiltily and removed a can from the cupboard, opened it and emptied the contents into a bowl with Zilar's begging becoming louder and more plaintive the longer she took. He even reared up on his hind legs to try to get a better look. Finally, to much fussing and him almost tripping her up, she placed the bowl down on the ground and awaited the verdict. He took one sniff at the offerings, backed away and looked at her accusingly. "Reeow?" ("Excuse me? What is this?")

"Sorry mate, we're out of tuna!" Isobel explained. "Don't you want to try Paw's Chicken in jelly for a change?"

"Meeeoowow!" Zilar replied. ("If that's chicken, then I'm a one legged goldfish!")

"Look, I've got to go to work now, ok?" Isobel said impatiently. "I'll pick you up some tuna later. In the meantime, that's all there is. That was the expensive one as well!"

Zilar sighed and grumbled all the way to the catflap. "No tuna? Humph! I guess I'll just have to catch my own dinner then! Anything's better than that tripe you have the nerve to call chicken! Chicken? Pah!"

Munkustrap jumped moodily over a garden fence, stalked along a wall, climbed up into a tree and scanned the area. He was in a large garden with a patio, a well manicured lawn upon which stood a trampoline and a garden shed at one end. Aha, but what was this? Movement! A young magie digging for invertebrates in amongst the begonias? It was too good an opportunity to miss! But how to get it? He was about to begin a quiet descent down the hidden side of the tree trunk, listening out for the telltale alarm calls which would tell him that he'd been spotted, when what do you know? "Tic, tic, tic!"

Looking up, Munkustrap spotted the smug creature flitting from branch to branch and pretty soon it seemed like the entire neighbourhood was in uproar as with a loud rattling cry, the magpie darted into the bushes on rounded wings and disappeared. Meanwhile the robin continued to dance about in the branches just out of reach, appearing to mock him while at the same time calling out to anyone who would listen that the cat had been well and truly rumbled. "Oh get lost you flying lizard!" Munkustrap cursed the irritating bird.

He wasn't going to catch anything here, that was for sure. He would have to look elsewhere.

The warm Summer sun was on its way towards the western horizon when Munkustrap made his way along a privet hedge at an easy lope, his long legs and long, low back giving him a natural stalking gait. It was as though he was always in action ready mode. Then the sound of twittering made him stop and prick up his ears. Licking his lips, he silently eased himself through the tangled web of branches without making so much as a rustle. In order to avoid detection he employed stealth tactics that a ninja would have been envious of, taking the utmost care as to where he placed all four feet, even having to place and re-place a foot when it failed to find a noise free spot. The going was slow, not to mention painstaking, but eventually he peered through the foliage and spied an elderly lady sitting about twenty feet away from him on the lawn in a sun lounger, sipping on gin & tonic and watching her bird table with intrigue. This wooden structure, in the shape of a fairy house, was much closer to him. And it was brimming with food! Well actually, cute little flitting chattering birds of all shapes and sizes to you and me! Red breasted robins feasted upon the meal worms, while fluorescent starlings and characteristic house sparrows argued over the breadcrumbs. On the nut feeders pretty goldfinches took turns with acrobatic blue tits, bully boy great tits, polite chaffinches, bad tempered greenfinches and the odd nuthatch or two to snatch a beakful of peanuts or seeds. But even the majestic blackbird and shy song thrush had to make way for the gang of noisy green parakeets as they piled in to get their share; until eventually they too were pushed aside by a hungry grey squirrel. Munkustrap wasn't really interested in the songbirds. He saw them as little more than kitten toys, all bone and feather and not much else, hardly worth the effort in fact. He did consider going for a parakeet. After all, they weren't even supposed to be here, having been brought to England's shores from a faraway land and released by some careless humans. Then again he wasn't exactly one to complain about thoughtless humans, seeing as his ancestors had originally come from Asia! He quickly dismissed the idea of catching a parakeet. They were far too skittish. Plus they'd mob him relentlessly, alerting everything in the vicinity that a cat was on the prowl. The squirrel was a contender, but then again they tended to be a bit bitey not to mention as tough as old boot leather! So what to go for? Aha! Something suddenly caught his attention. Trundling around the lawn like it owned it and having to be content with pecking at titbits after attempting to heft its bulk onto the bird table and merely succeeding in knocking most of the food off of it, was a favourite prey. An enormous wood pigeon. Every single one of Munkustrap's senses sharpened and he felt his heart begin to beat faster. It was game on! This was what life was about, doing what he was born to do. He could almost thank his owner for forgetting the tuna. Who needed tuna when you had thrills like this? Nothing beat the excitement of a hunt, not even a good fight (not least because there was a potentially tasty reward at the end, as opposed to a nasty injury.) He crouched low on his haunches, keeping as still as the shadows with his whole body like a tightly coiled spring. His eyes meanwhile were fixed on his quarry, waiting patiently for the opportune moment to strike, which would be when the pigeon waddled to within a few feet of his hiding place. His claws itched excitedly, but he had to exercise caution. Wood pigeons were easily spooked. One wrong move and this one would take off with a clatter of wings in an instant, taking everything else with it. So he waited. And waited. Just a bit closer! The bird lifted its head, blinked its beady red eye and spotted a tasty morsel close to the hedge. But it was weary. Things liked to hide in hedges. But that morsel looked too good to miss. It ambled towards it and Munkustrap's heart rate soured. He could feel his blood pumping in his veins. His eyes locked on target and his eyes dilated a split second before he burst out of the hedge. The parakeets screamed and the blackbirds trilled their alarm call. The birds exploded in a confusion of wings and, as Munkustrap had predicted, with his feathery grey bulk belying his speed and strength, the pigeon flew straight up. Which was why Munkustrap did too. Cat and bird collided in midair and fell back down to Earth, rolling over and over with Munkustrap gripping the pigeon with all four feet as it struggled, trying to find it's spinal cord. Suddenly he bit down on the back of its neck, and with a sharp 'snick!' it was all over for the pigeon. Then half a second later he was up and running from a manic old lady who was screaming obscenities while hurling empty glass missiles in his direction. "Let Percy go, you bloody murderer!" She shrieked.

She quickly followed this with, "Leave those poor birds alone you evil cat! If I ever catch you in my garden again, I'll skin you alive!"

"Bloody over sentimental humans!" Munkustrap cursed. "They are the worst! Don't they know I have to eat? It's alright for them. They can eat vegetables! I can't!"

He hurried on to Regent's Park, carrying his prize between his teeth and keen to repeat his success. However he was feeling hot and began to pant heavily. "I'm seriously considering getting a fur cut at Bombi's," he thought to himself. "Maybe I'll head there later."

The Sun's energy may have been beginning to weaken but the temperature was still uncomfortably warm, so he felt grateful for the light breeze that stirred the long dry grass along the pavement verge. The light hum it made through the trees would give him more cover too. In fact the only creatures that didn't seem to mind the hot weather were the chirruping grasshoppers. However although the weather seemed fair and stable, Munkustrap's inner barometer warned him of change. Like all cats, he could feel the drop in air pressure which informed him that unsettled weather was on the way. Mind you, anything was better than this insane heat!

By the time he made it to The Wellington Arms carrying a rather full shopping bag slung over his shoulder, the rasping song of the grasshopper had been replaced by the loud 'peep' of the bush cricket. The wind had also picked up. "Alright Lad?" greeted Asparagus. "Nice fur cut! Just been to Bombi's have you?"

"It had to come off," Munkustrap replied, indicating his fur which had been neatly clipped short, leaving the fur on his chest and shoulders slightly longer. It was almost a mane, but not quite!

"I feel so much cooler now!" He added. "I see you've been recently too, Gus!"

Asparagus held up his arm. "Oh yeah," he said. "Everyone's getting it done at the moment what with this heat! Never known it to be so hot, up in the forties it was earlier!"

They continued to compare fur styles and complain about the weather until Asparagus noticed the bag that Munkustrap was carrying and asked, "So, what you got for us then?"

Munkustrap opened up the bag and began to place the carefully skinned, prepared and cling film wrapped offerings onto a table. "Can I interest you in a couple of mallards?" he offered. "Or a couple of rock doves? There's also four rats and that one there is black headed gull? Or a squirrel and a few dozen mice perhaps? All freshly caught."

"You've done well there, Munkustrap!" Chuckled Asparagus. "Tell you what, I'll take the lot for forty guineas."

"Forty guineas?" Munkustrap exclaimed. "I haven't been hunting all afternoon in forty degree heat just to get forty guineas! I was hoping for at least eighty so that I might stand a chance of paying off my rent arrears. Trust me, you will not get organic for this price down at the Wholesaler! But, if that's your final offer, then I'd be happy to take this lot down to The Bell Bistro instead where I'll be sure to get at least ninety. They know quality when they see it!" And he began packing things away.

Asparagus eyed the meat and wavered, "Alright let's not be too hasty! I got me overheads to think about too you know! I'll tell you what, I'll offer you a hundred if you include a half hour set to entertain the punters?"

"Deal."

They took paws, smiled and exchanged packages. Then Munkustrap ordered himself a large glass of iced water, sat down at the piano and began to play a song that had been stuck in his head all day,

"Pain in my heart
She's treating me cold
Where can my baby be
Lord no one knows

Pain in my heart just won't let me sleep
Where can my baby be
Lord where can she be

Another day, as again it's rough
I want you to come back, come back, come back, baby, I've had enough
A little pain in my heart just won't let me be
Wake up at restless nights
Lord and I can't even sleep

Stop this little pain in my heart

Another day as again it's rough
I want you to love me, love me, love me, baby, 'till I get enough
Pain in my heart, a little pain in my heart
Stop this little pain in my heart
Stop this little pain in my heart
Someone stop this pain
Someone stop this pain."

(Pain In My Heart by Otis Redding)

He headed towards his den just as the rain began to hit the dusty ground, coupled with the rumble of thunder and flashes of lightning that lit up the pitch coloured sky like a strobe light show. The night was moonless, exactly how Munkustrap liked it. All the better to not be seen. But it was never completely dark in the city, for the shadows were permeated by the constant dull glow of streetlamps and car headlights which made staying invisible more difficult. However he ran the usual gauntlet of roads, gardens patrolled by cat hating pollicles, the odd stray looking for a fight and gangs of human youths hanging around outside pubs, without incident. Finally he arrived home and shut the door on the howling gale outside, shaking the water from his fur and going straight to the hidden cubby hole in the wall to deposit his earnings. He was rather pleased with tonight's haul: one hundred and twenty guineas for a few hours hard graft was nothing to be dissatisfied with and he had managed to sell everything! Well almost everything. He chuckled under his breath as he opened up his nearly empty shopping bag and took out the last wrapped package before placing it onto the plywood table. Then his stomach growled angrily as he unwrapped two large wood pigeon breasts; forming a plaintive chorus with a heart that was doing its very best to remind him of how big and empty his den seemed and like a hungry kitten, the more he tried to ignore it the more persistent it became. He tried to keep himself with stove and frying pan, but Jazzie was never far from his thoughts. Where was she? What was she doing? Was she missing him? Would he be able to get near her without making her sick? He sighed. He had gotten so used to her company, that it felt odd not having her soft French accent whispering in his ear. He needed to find her soon. His arms were aching and he knew it wasn't just because they were tired. But alas, that was what queens did. They were quick to make you fall in love with them and just as quick to push you away when they had taken what they wanted, so that for a lot of toms the quest for love was a lonely and neverending one. "I could protest, but where would it get me?" He thought with a shrug, allowing himself to be distracted by the hot oil as it sizzled and hissed when he placed the prized pigeon breasts into it, pressing them down with his fingers before turning them over and trying not to salivate.

They would be lightly charred on the outside whilst still retaining a little pink in the middle. Perfect! Just how he liked them and at least he wouldn't have to share! Besides, his queens always insisted on having their meat well done. "Burnt more like!" He thought as he sliced up the meat and carried it to the table, still in the frying pan.

He rubbed his paws together with anticipation and armed himself with a fork. This was going to be so worth the wait… 'Tap tap tap!' With a piece meat halfway to his mouth he paused and listened. "Who the Hell could be at my door at this hour?" He thought grumpily. Maybe they'd go away?

After a second or two the meat continued on its journey, but unfortunately never found its destination. He was about to take a bite when he was rudely interrupted yet again by more persistent tapping. "Grrrrr!"

In frustration he angrily dropped the fork along with the meat back in the pan with a clatter and stalked over to the door, muttering, "This had better be good!"

Then he threw it open and glared down at the visitor. "Oh," he growled. "It's you."