THE TALE OF THE BIRTHDAY BEAR - PART 2

It was then Shy realised that there was more than one visitor. The heavy footfalls came closer, sure enough. But there was something else. Lighter movement, the rustle of a newspaper...
The light mew of a cat… Shy grinned in relief, “Is that you Calmeister? Basher?”

It was nothing to be worried about, after all.

Out of the darkness emerged a tall dark-haired man, somewhat over 6ft, in jeans and smart t-shirt bearing the words SHOTS across the front of it. This was Cal - Shy's once flatmate who now ran a sweet shop for Trolls on Charing Cross Road. His much smaller mewing companion, was their mutual friend Basher Deeley - who was himself - a small grey and white striped cat. Out of the two of them Basher was the most talkative. Calum was busily buried in the Racing Times.

“MEEEEEOW!” mewed Basher indignantly.

“Well you could have let me known it was you!” smiled Shy. “I wasn't sure who it was. I thought you might have been someone intent on jumping me!!”

“MEEEEEEEOOOOOOW!!!!”

“Yeah - well no such luck - and don't be so cheeky!”

Shy had known Basher long enough to know exactly what he meant. He had known the boy since he was a kitten. Basher was the son of Juanita, who in turn lived with another of Shy's friends. Many a time had Shy fallen asleep only to awake several hours later to find himself covered in Little Kitten Deeley spit. Kitten Deeley (or Basher as he'd become known as he grew) had been intensely affectionate, yet occasionally psychotic as a youngster. Having initially taken to adopting Shy's four foot white cuddly teddy bear (a gift from a former admirer in the Midlands) as his mother, he soon decided that Shy was much furrier and that he also required to be Kitten-washed at least twice weekly.

“Meister! What's all this creeping about going on here? It's late! I mean, how did you even find me?”

Cal looked up from his paper, “Cat dude here sniffed you out. You living here now or something?”

It all made sense. Basher always did have an acute sense of smell. “Yes, for the moment!” he confirmed. “I'm going travelling soon. I'm just getting my new life together, right now..."

“There's always room in the Dude's basket - he never uses it now… He prefers a bed of rare Atlantean coral or failing that a few big sticks of rock! You can always come stay at the sweet shop, you know!”

“No ta. I'm fine thanks, Meister!” He was still a little bit miffed about being crept up on and, going back further, how Basher had taken to living with the Meister rather than him. Some cats just couldn't tell a “Cat person” when they sniffed one. As if reading his mind, something that was actually entirely possible, Basher dodged affectionately around his legs. “So are you two here for a reason?” As if in answer Basher gave a short and slightly effeminate mew and began coughing and retching right inront of Shy's brand new note pad. “Not there, Master Deeley!" exclaimed Shy. “Basher please! I'm trying to compose some new verse!”

But Basher didn't appear to have heard and continued to retch. "Cough up Cat dude!" encouraged Cal.
“Don't tell him that!” exclaimed Shy. “Are you not combing the poor little man? He's got hairballs or grass or something stuck in his throat!!”

“Not so, Yeti! The Cat dude has a message for you, which he wrote out on a piece of paper and then swallowed. He's now regurgitating it for your pleasure and attention!!”

Shy winced, “Oh that's truly horrid. Have you been teaching him bad habits?” To be fair, Basher Deeley had always done this - yet not quite as constructively. Usually he chewed up Shy's shopping lists before they even reached the supermarket. The whole writing messages thing was new, though. He'd have paid to see Basher grip a pen and write out his message - that would be something worth seeing. “Why on earth does he have to chew up the message before I read it? I mean - if it was written up first - that's just gross!!”

“Very important message, dude!” Calum assured him. “Wanted to make sure no-one apprehended the message on the way over here!”

Bizarrely, his excuse actually almost made sense.

Taking a quick peek, Shy noticed that Basher was nearly done retching and that so far he had sicked up a few balls of what looked like papier mache. “Oh charming!” sighed Shy. “And how am I going to read those then?”

“Leave them out to dry, dude...”

“THANK YOU VERY MUCH!!!”

By now Basher looked cold and appeared to have ceased barfing. “MEWWWWWWW!” he squeaked.

“Looks like rain does it? Oh get out of here the both of you!” Basher gave him another disparaging mew. “Don’t try that with me!” snapped Shy. “How dare you, sir...”

But none of this is getting our story anywhere. Basher and the Calmeister were soon on their way and yes - soon enough - it did begin to rain!

Now it wasn't exactly soaking wet in the pavillion, but Shy didn't sleep so well and was glad to finally have the opportunity to get up and out of the park, next morning – to join the commuters – and more importantly – those in search of breakfast! For it was breakfast that was on his mind as he reached the door of the Belgravian Kitchen. “Bacon baguettes!” he mumbled, though he had no money.

“YETI!!!” Shy spun around guiltily, as if caught in the actual act of diddling the waiter of payment. “I've been looking for you! What's been going on?”

“Luke!! How are you doing, cub?”

Luke was a friend from work. Or at least they didn’t work together – but geographically their offices were close and they often shared lunch together. He’d totally forgotten to keep his friend updated on all the recent events, as he’d been away on holiday – but Luke had obviously heard all.

“I feel left out!” sighed Luke, a trifle crossly. “I mean, I go away and what happens whilst I'm gone! You're evicted AND you lose your job!” Luke had found them a table and they sat waiting to be served. “I know I'm going to be late in - but I don't really care!” he continued, admiring his new hairdo, fur sleekly shaved in quite the ultra-modern style. “Do you like it?”

“It’s quite…” but Shy never got a chance to finish – Luke had other things to say.

“Ask me how Amsterdam was, Yeti! You always thinking about yourself - you're dreadful, man!”

Luke was right though, he'd not even thought to ask. “Sorry - err - so how was it? Tulip-y?”

“Good! Dull! No - it was fun - but I was somehow expecting more! Hey! I've got something for you, Yeti!” he said as if suddenly remembering. “It’s not from Amsterdam, but from round here, something you thought you'd lost! Don't say I don't do anything for you! Hey and I've heard all about your little adventures - I've been speaking with Dan! What on EARTH do you think you're up to!?”

Shy tried to avoid Luke's stern gaze. Sometimes the cub's questing blue eyes seemed to have almost the same effect on him as his own eyes had on passing shop keepers, security guards and barmen. “I'm just going through a spot of... trouble, cub... I'm chucking it all in - going on a little adventure! Next week, probably! After Dan's birthday. I've got a few matters to sort out with my cat before I go but...”

Luke showed his disapproval by changing the subject suddenly; “Ask me what I've brought you!” he said suddenly. “You're going to love it! Honestly!”

“What have you... ?” Initially not that interested, Shy trailed off as he finally caught sight of the clear plastic freezerbag that Luke had with him. "Pies..."

“YES!!” grinned Luke. “But not just any old pies!”

“I don't believe it - how can they be? They're - they're...”

“Your pies, Mr! Or what I could get hold of - might be able to get hold of the others if you're good!”

“Oh Cub!” Shy was eagerly examining the pies through the bag - pies from all over the world, neatly wrapped in multicoloured newspaper. “How on earth did you get them back from the bailiffs!?”

“Can't say!” smirked Luke. “Top secret - I'd have to muss up your fur if I told you! Needless to say it wasn't entirely an unpleasant experience - there are some dead nice lads in that unit...”

Shy grinned and gave Luke a big hug. “I should have known! Well, thank you - SO much! Trouble is I don't have anywhere to put them, they were in cold storage - they'll go off!”

“Which is why I have them in this bag for you - I'll get them into the freezer at work and padlock it down. Nobody's going to get their gums around any of your pies, if I can help it! Not even me!!”

“Fantastic!!! Most won’t have ripened yet!” Shy explained. “Like wine - takes years to mature...”

By now their mugs of coffee and bacon baguettes had arrived. “So what's this little adventure - this problem you were going on about before?” Shy had almost totally forgotten about it in all the excitement, but explained the whole visitation last night in the park from Cal and Basher. “So, these messages, have they dried out? Have you been able to read them yet?” They had nearly been dry this morning, but in the hurry for breakfast he'd not yet examined them. “Prise them open then!”

“What here?”
“Where else, silly! I've got to get to work and freeze your pies! Of course here. Open them up!!”

There were seven “spitballs” in all. Now dry and almost solid - but by tackling them with a tooth pick they managed to open each paper ball and flatten them out. Each piece of paper had a word on it...

“What do you make of that then?” asked Luke, looking confused.

Shy sat and stared, muddling the words into a possible order until they read as follows: SPECCY, WORLD ENDS THIS SATURDAY, HAPPY BIRTHDAY...

“You know...” admitted Shy meekly, “I don't like the look of this one little bit!!!”