The Wind in the Window-Box (Part 1): The River-Bank Resident 🛶🌾🐈✨🏡

The Mole-Cat had been working very hard all the morning, spring-cleaning his little home. First with brooms, then with dusters; then on ladders and steps and chairs, with a brush and a pail of whitewash; till he had dust in his whiskers and splashes of white fur all over his black coat, and an aching back and weary paws. 🧹🐾

Spring was moving in the air above and in the earth below and around him, penetrating even his dark and lowly little under-sofa void with its spirit of divine discontent and longing. It was small wonder, then, that he suddenly flung down his brush on the floor, said "Bother!" and "O blow!" and also "Hang spring-cleaning!" and bolted out of the house without even waiting to put on his collar of civility. 🛋️💨

He scraped and scratched and scrabbled and scrooged and then he scrooged again and scratched and scraped, working busily with his little paws and muttering to himself, "Up we go! Up we go!" till at last, pop! his nose came out into the sunlight, and he found himself rolling in the warm grass of a great meadow. ☀️🌱

"This is fine!" he said to himself. "This is better than whitewashing!" The sunshine struck hot on his fur, soft breezes caressed his heated brow, and after the seclusion of the cellarage he had lived in so long, the carol of happy birds fell on his dull hearing almost like a shout. 🐦✨

He wandered aimlessly along, in the state of solar melt which a cat feels when he has first escaped the dust bunnies of the interior. He reached the edge of the river—a full-fed river, gleaming and coaxing, with a gurgle and a swish, a sky-string of liquid silver winding through the landscape. 🌊💎

As he sat on the bank, a dark hole in the bank opposite, just above the water's edge, caught his eye. A broad, high-vibration face, with whiskers that would have graced a grand vizier, emerged from the shadows. It was the Water Rat-Tabby. 🐈‍⬛🛶

"Hullo, Mole-Cat!" said the Rat-Tabby. "Would you like to come over? I have a very fine **Cloud Nine Suction Perch** installed in my front parlor window. It is the best place in the world for river-watching and moth-monitoring." ☁️✨

The Mole-Cat scrambled into the Rat-Tabby's little boat, and soon he was settled onto the Cloud Nine perch. It was ultra-soft, lined with the finest Yorkshire fleece, and held him so securely that he felt as though he were floating on the river itself. 🛶💤

"Is it... is it really so nice?" asked the Mole-Cat, his paws sinking into the plush material.

"Believe me, my young friend," said the Rat-Tabby solemnly, "there is nothing—absolutely nothing—half so much worth doing as simply messing about in windows. Simply messing," he went on dreamily: "messing—about—in—windows; or with windows. In or out of 'em, it doesn't matter. Nothing seems really to matter, that's the charm of it. Whether you get to the sun-spot or whether you don't; whether you arrive at your deep-nap or whether you never get anywhere at all." 🏡☀️✨

They sat together for a long time, watching the vermin syndicate—the water voles—scurry among the reeds and the sky-chickens—the ducks—dive for their dinner. The Mole-Cat felt a deep sense of pastoral peace. He realized that cat-logic was not about the work you do, but about the vistas you enjoy. 🦁🏰✨

But as the afternoon wore on, a very loud and very brassy "Honk-Honk" came from the road behind the meadow. It was followed by a cloud of dust and a smell of burnt rubber. 🚗💨

"Oh dear," sighed the Rat-Tabby. "That will be Toad-Cat. He has discovered the motor-car, and I fear he has abandoned the logic of the latch for the philosophy of the fast-lane." 🐸😾

Ready for the next chapter? What is Toad-Cat up to? Find out in Part 2! 🐾✨