Saturday 21 March 2020

Missing Without A Trace



I’ve been missing for two days. Without a trace. No one knew I was missing … except me of course. I suspect none of you noticed my absence.

The family were away for the weekend - Saturday and Sunday only.

Let me explain that we live in a very old Victorian house which has a cellar spanning the whole floor area of the property. You enter the cellar from a door just under the staircase.

We don’t use this basement often, it’s mostly a storage area nowadays where we keep half a dozen bottles of wine lying lazily on a shelf which I built myself … slightly leaning to one side mind you … but still OK if you wedge a book at the end and it stops the bottles from rolling off.

We also keep some foodstuff down there, mostly tins of soup, various tins of vegetables and fruits and other household goods like detergents, washing liquids and so on. And books, plenty of books. I built a few more shelves in one corner which I call the library and we've put a number of books which we refer to every now and then. You get the idea … it's just a storage area for things we use now and then.

The basement used to be a small apartment for a servant or butler in years gone by … it has a small kitchenette and bathroom still fully plumbed in and in working order, and a tiny living/sleeping area.

I needed a book about Australian parasites so off I went downstairs as one would in such circumstances. 

As I got to the corner where the books are, there was an almighty crash in the house as the dog started chasing the cat who followed me down in the basement. 

The dog … huge as he is … did not quite fit in under the staircase where the basement door is situated, but his immense stature slammed the door shut. That’s when I heard a clunk … clunk … clunk … sound all the way down the stairs and at my feet.

Perhaps I should have mentioned that the door handle has always been a little loose. I’ve always planned to fix it … Lord knows I’ve been told often enough … but with that and the leaning shelves it was all a question of priorities. Which one to fix first … and neither was done!

I picked up the door handle and tried to open the door. No use … it would not work. And that’s how I went missing without a trace in my own house.

No one knew I was there. No use shouting for help. No one would hear me. No point in phoning for help. I didn’t have the cell-phone with me.

Try as I might to open the door but it was all in vain. An hour or so later I heard the phone ring in the house and the loudspeaker on the answering machine said “Hello … we’ve arrived safely … Oh … you must be out. See you when we return. Have fun. Bye!”

Great … what a prospect. Trapped in my own house without a TV for two days.

Now it is said that in such circumstances of extreme trauma one should sit down calmly, take deep breaths and concentrate. No need to panic.

Calm down and concentrate.

And nothing aids concentration more than a drop or two of wine.

Fortunately we have plenty of that here. Or beer if one prefers … which is also easily to hand.

After an hour or so of concentration I still had no idea on how to get out of my prison.

My mind was getting a little hazy … perhaps it’s the lack of air down here. There’s a small window at the far end of the basement leading to the back garden of the house. It’s at ground level when you’re out in the garden … if you see what I mean. It’s too small to get out of; and it is barred anyway. 

Let's take another drink and concentrate.

Now then … if I could get the cat out of the window he could go for help! (Hic ... pardon me ... hiccup!)

I could tie a message to his collar! No that won’t do … he doesn’t wear a collar. Too dangerous you see, he could get caught on a tree branch and injure himself. So we’ve never put a collar on him. Perhaps I could go out and buy him a collar. Ooops ... I can't get out ... hic!

Perhaps I could tattoo a distress message on his body … a bit extreme I must say! It’ll stay with him for life. “HELP … I’m trapped in the basement!”

The problem is I have no tattooing equipment whatsoever down here, and I’ve never tattooed anyone in my life let alone a cat.

What if I cut a message in his fur with scissors? Like some people do with their hairstyle when they cut their hair in different patterns? Would the cat stay still long enough until I finish cutting his fur I wonder?

I think I need another drink … hic!

Ah … I got it. This is certain to work. I could empty all these tins of peas … well some of them anyway … no one likes peas. I could tie them to one another with a long string and tie that to the cat’s tail.

He’d make such a noise running all over town that someone is sure to find him and read my message which will be written on one of the tins.

I emptied about a dozen tins. Peas taste awful when eaten cold you know … even washed down with beer. 

I tied the tins together. Wrote a message on several tins to make sure it is read. 

I called the cat sleeping happily in the corner. I tripped on the Australian book lying on the floor. The cat suddenly got up and shot out through the window.

Typical of that cat … un-cooperative to the last. He just would not help me in my hour of need.

I was found fast asleep Sunday night when the family returned home. And you didn't even miss me.

More stories about my cat in my book  
"FELINE CATASTROPHES"

24 comments:

  1. Good thing your basement was fully plumbed... Especially with all that consumed wine!

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  2. I used to have a similar basement. Stocked with wine, pantry goods, a fridge with beer and other such foods, a toilet, sink and a pool table. There was something about it that made it a woman free zone. Like yours missing a tv. I don;t know what I would have done if locked in and the door did lock from the other side as I did not have a cat. I guess I could have exited from the double doors to the back yard...perhaps after the wine ran low.

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    1. These are wonderful places for a man to escape to, aren't they JoeH. Thinking back, I could have leant hard against the door and opened it outwards. But with the wine and beer I was not thinking straight. Or was it the pees? Sorry ... peas?

      God bless.

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  3. With food, wine and books, Victor, I don't think I'd feel trapped in the least! Ah, the predicaments you get yourself into . . .
    Blessings always!

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    1. And peas ... you forgot the peas ... Martha.

      So glad I made you smile in these difficult times. More tomorrow.

      God bless.

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  4. Oh...were you gone Victor?
    You must stop getting yourself into these crazy situations.
    On second thought, go for it! I need the laughs.


    God's Blessings Victor 💮

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    1. It's good to laugh, Jan. The world needs laughter right now. It needs cheering up a little.

      God bless you.

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  5. I laughed when I first read this (in Catastrophes), and it still makes me chuckle. Aside from the loose door knob, I'm enchanted by the sounds of your basement.

    PS - No matter how peas are prepared, in my book they've absolutely no redeeming value.

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    1. A number of old Victorian houses have a basement the size of the whole area of the house. In olden days servants used to live there.

      In England we also have mashed peas. It is a green paste, (of peas), which comes in tins usually. It's like mashed potatoes only green and tastes of peas. Our dog likes it.

      God bless, Mevely.

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  6. At least it wasn't one of those cold and creepy basements!

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    1. The wine and beer kept me warm Happyone.

      God bless.

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  7. It could have been worst. Creaky stairs to walk down, dark and no lights, weird noises, little creatures running around looking for cheese. :)

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    1. Fortunately it has running electricity and hot and cold water, Bill. And I did find some tasty cheese, Gruyère I think, in the mousetraps.

      God bless, my friend.

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  8. I would like to borrow it for a couple days. Just kidding, my life and my routine is a must...but a cellar with books, wine, a bathroom and a cat...I could handle that for a day or two. Forget the peas!! Loved the story!

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    1. So happy you liked the story, Wanda. It is one of those in my book "Feline Catastrophes".

      God bless you always.

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  9. While I feel a little sorry for you, I am also kinda jealous.

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  10. Very cute story! You could have put vinegar and oil on the peas to make an Italian pea salad? *big smile*

    Those cats...Naughty things...We have four of the little rascals.

    God bless you Victor.

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    1. Good point Amelia. But with the wine and beer I was not thinking straight.

      God bless always.

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  11. What an adventure, i am sure you are glad it's over. Now go fix that handle!

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    1. I forgot about the handle. Thanx for reminding me.

      God bless, Mimi.

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  12. With food, wine and books … sounds good :)
    But, please do fix the handle!

    All the best Jan

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    1. Yes, as I said to Mimi, I'd forgotten about the handle. This will be my next job ... tomorrow ... or the day after.

      God bless, Jan.

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