Paw Prints in the Moonlight by Denis O'Connor Page B

the cottage. It was the kind that bounced easily and, if struck even moderately by a playful paw, would shoot across the room in a way that invited a headlong chase. Toby Jug loved this plaything and would sometimes carry it around in his mouth and occasionally bring it to me to be thrown so that he could jump and attempt to catch it. Here again was a
link to his Maine Coon breeding since these cats are well-known for retrieving small objects and carrying playthings to their owners.
    One day the red ball disappeared and couldn’t be found. Obviously, Toby had carried it out of doors and it had gone astray somewhere in the garden. No amount of careful searching unearthed the lost ball. Tired of searching we eventually abandoned the hunt as a lost cause and I made a mental note to buy him another. Some days later I was puzzled to find a number of tomatoes lying around the patio, some of which were in a severely bruised state. When I set about retrieving these I noticed that Toby looked suspiciously guilty and I became quite perplexed at what was going on. Was Toby Jug bringing these tomatoes and if so where was he getting them? It was most bewildering.
    The mystery was solved several days later when Alice, the neighbour from the cottage next to mine, knocked on my backdoor and told me, with some embarrassment, that she really liked my little cat but could I stop him from going into her greenhouse and stealing her tomatoes. She explained that she left the greenhouse door partially open for ventilation. Then it dawned on me what had been happening. I started to give her an account of the saga of Toby’s lost little red ball when, to my horror the villain of the piece appeared around the corner of the cottage in full view of both of us, carrying a red tomato in his mouth.

    I have always believed that animals, and more especially cats, have a full range of emotional sensitivities which includes a conscience. At the sight of the two of us, Toby Jug skidded to a stop, dropped the tomato and scampered off to hide in the bushes. I assured an indignant Alice that I would remonstrate with Toby Jug (although at the time I wasn’t quite sure how I would do this) and punish him at the earliest opportunity. I also mentioned that I would buy Toby a multitude of small red balls that very afternoon. I suggested that for a few days she might like to close her greenhouse door. I communicated all of this in the most apologetic manner I could summon, stopping short only of getting down on my knees to say sorry. I did offer to buy her some tomatoes from the village shop but this only seemed to add insult to injury since she angrily assured me that her tomatoes were homegrown and far superior to any that were store bought. We parted on reasonably good terms, though, and I resolved to buy the dear lady a bunch of flowers and a box of chocolates as a peace offering. This I duly did and friendly diplomatic relations were re-established.
    Thankfully nothing more was ever heard of the tomato incident, but I suspect that Alice took steps to prevent Toby’s entry into her greenhouse. After his exposure as the tomato thief Toby was not seen until mid-evening, when hunger pangs overcame his guilty feelings. When he did at last appear for his dinner I confronted him with the stolen
tomato and let him off with a light scolding and, from the shamed look he affected, I was sure he understood me only too well. The scolding appeared in no way to diminish his appetite, though, and merely served to confirm for me the inherent resilience of a cat’s nature to shrug off adversity.
    Following this incident I made sure that my other neighbours were aware of Toby Jug’s eccentricities and, fearful of angry reprisals against him, I offered compensation for any damage he might in future cause. But in the small community in which we lived Toby Jug had quickly become accepted for the playful character that he was. His friendly, extraverted nature