Pancho

By Franny Conlin

This is a tale about a battle for survival between the feline families that roamed and scavenged on the docklands of Liverpool soon after World War II and the vicious rodent hordes.
Food is scarce, fights to the death are frequent, and the rodents fighting in large numbers are murderous in their attempts to kill as many kittens as possible to keep the cat families small in number. The leader of the rat pack, Retsina, an extremely clever and meticulous rat, is a freak of nature because of his size. He is a giant among the rodents.
There is one large cat family who are a match for rats. They are the fighting Flynns who are led by Feral Flynn, a giant ginger tom, fearless and brave. He looks after his clan well. Battles up to now are even.
Then one night, a new cat hero emerges, a loner who is soon to become the hero among the felines, a scourge on the rodents, who is sharp as a pin, ridiculously cute, and braver and swifter than any feline. He has arrived.
Who is this stranger Pancho the Cat? Where did he come from?

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Feb 4, 2021
• ISBN: 9781665585330

Franny Conlin

Born in inner city Liverpool to Alice and Peter Conlin in 1944, I am the second youngest in a line of eight children, husband of fifty-one years to Joan and father to Terry, Barry and Tony. My journey into storyville began with my elder brother John, as a child I looked forward to his stories each night before falling asleep, John had an amazing imagination that kept us younger children mesmerised for hours, telling us all the classics, like Treasure Island, Gulliver’s Travellers and Black Beauty. This then gave me a foundation to develop my own writing skills, which would then go onto serve me as a playwright, forming my own Theatre Production Company in 2009 (Wildflower Productions). I am currently in the process of staging my fourth play and my second book, a sequel to Pancho The Cat. I dedicate this story to my brother John Anthony Conlin, it was his love of storytelling that gave me the confidence and courage to dream big and go after that dream. I would like to thank Angela Preston for her help with the manuscript, Josie Parkes for instilling the confidence in me to get the book finished and Peter Taafe for his amazing drawings. But most importantly I would like to thank my wife Joan who’s support and encouragement has helped me to never give up on achieving my goals and my sons for being a support mechanism.

Book preview

© 2021 Franny Conlin. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 02/03/2021

ISBN: 978-1-6655-8534-7 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-6655-8533-0 (e)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

CONTENTS

Part I

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Part II

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Chapter 57

Chapter 58

Chapter 59

Chapter 60

Chapter 61

Part III

Chapter 62

Chapter 63

Chapter 64

Chapter 65

Chapter 66

Chapter 67

Chapter 68

Chapter 69

Chapter 70

Chapter 71

Chapter 72

Chapter 73

Chapter 74

Chapter 75

Chapter 76

Chapter 77

Chapter 78

Chapter 79

Chapter 80

Chapter 81

Chapter 82

Chapter 83

Chapter 84

Chapter 85

Chapter 86

Chapter 87

Chapter 88

Chapter 89

Chapter 90

Chapter 91

Chapter 92

Chapter 93

Chapter 94

Part IV

Chapter 95

Chapter 96

Chapter 97

PART I

41506.png

CHAPTER 1

THE BEGINNING

LIVERPOOL DOCKLANDS

World war II has abated the Liverpool’s dockland is half destroyed flattened by German bombs, amongst all the desolation works a local man Peter Pelligrino who is the son of Italian immigrants who settled in Liverpool before the war years, he is employed by the dock board as a lock gate controller, his job is to control the locks opening and closing the gates at high and low tides of the river allowing ships of allied nations to pass in and out of the now busy Liverpool port safely.

Alongside Peter the heroic dockworkers never shirked their duty and worked on keeping the docks busy through the incessant bombings of their port.

Peter is small in stature with thick curly white hair, middle aged, a very gentle soul who sits at the gate controls inside his little snug gatehouse where he has been allowed to take up residence because his house has been destroyed by the dreaded German bombs. The gatehouse consists of one fairly middle sized room with a large white marble sink in one corner accompanied by a brass tap, adjacent is another little room used as his sleeping quarters, inside this room a small brass bedstead stands in the middle of the room with large pillows and ample bed linen and bed sheets. In the main room Red and Black terrazzo tiles cover the floor throughout, there is a really large window which allows him full view of the lock gates he is working on, there is a huge operational control panel full of different coloured push buttons and levers, a worn out wooden stool that has been highly polished with the constant movement of his behind and the coarse material of his trousers sitting on it every day since he began tending the lock gates.

A solid wooden oak table stands in the middle of the room with two used wooden chairs, a battered worn out worse for wear leather armchair is placed in front of a glowing fire, a multipurpose black iron fire grate supporting the glowing coke fire which is basically used for cooking his food also for boiling his water in a very large Black coloured iron kettle, he has self crafted himself things like a metal poker for poking the fire also a simplistic wire toasting fork which both lay together in the hearth, adjacent and encased into the side of the fire is a tiny oven he uses for cooking though it’s mostly used for keeping his already cooked food warm.

The fire with its glowing embers keeps keps himself and the little gate house cosy and warm especially in the season of cold wintery months.

He allows a Spanish coaster to leave the port out into the open River it will be the last task on his rota for the evening, all is very peaceful and quiet as he begins to ready himself to turn in for the night.

The peaceful silence is broken when he hears a strange voice shouting, he slowly gets out of his warm bunk opens the gatehouse door to try and see where the shouts are coming from, he walks out into the cold night air standing on the lock tilting his head to allow his best ear to pick up any sounds . . . he listens for a while then whispers to himself

‘Must have my ears checked, I’m hearing things again’

He turns away from the lock walks back into his little gatehouse as he is about to close the door, again he hears a weird sound coming from down on the lock area . . . he picks up his flashlight goes out into the cold night air to investigate once again, now he hears a squeaky voice more clearly shouting in a pleading manner from somewhere below the quayside by the lock gate near to the low tidal water in a language he can’t understand.

‘Ayudarme, ayudarme’

Peter eventually works up the courage to raise his own voice . . . nervously he shouts

‘Who is it? Who are you?’

He is shining his flashlight all about the lock gate when suddenly the beam picks out two little bright green eyes staring back at him from the bottom of the gate close to the waterline

Where the sea water is ever so slowly beginning to creep up the harbour walls and the lock gate

‘Oh my goodness what in the lords name is that?’ Peter shouts nervously

His voice is trembling as before, hastily he runs back into the safety of his gatehouse panting out of breath he slams the door shut so frightened he carries on talking to himself.

‘In God’s name what can that be on my lock?’

He listens intently in the silence when low and behold he hears the shouting once again but this time more loudly . . . also this time the voice shouting in a language he can understand, he plucks up the courage once more and walks onto the quay to confront whatever it is.

‘Help me . . . help me’ the pleading squeaky voice shouts

‘Who are you? What are you?’ asks a startled Peter

‘Ayudarme’ replies the mysterious creature in a foreign language once again

‘You’re not a German are you?’ asks Peter

‘Oh will you just get me up out of here’ the strange voice shouts in a more demanding tone.

Peter realises whatever it is it’s caught up and tangled in a save all net, a safety device used on the port estate, he picks up a grappling pole from the gate house wall concentrates his torch on the victim tangled in the net, he uses the long grappling pole and reaches down to the net that is holding the demanding creature, he hooks on to it so he can haul whatever it is up onto the safety of the quay.

Nervously he retrieves the small saturated bundle from its entanglement then carries it into the gatehouse . . . the gatehouse is cosy and warm with the coke fire burning brightly in the iron fireplace, he plonks the creature onto the wooden table, it doesn’t look a pretty sight soaked and scrawny the soaked fur isn’t helping its appearance, he begins to dry his little mysterious guest, finally he realises what it is that is there before him.

He exclaims ‘you’re a cat!’

‘Ah! How extremely clever of you . . . of course I’m a cat, my oh my a typical human response to something that is so obvious, so now that is sorted out let me tell you this and you mark my words, I’m telling you I’m no ordinary cat.

‘You don’t say’ says Peter ‘so tell me more’

‘I am the feline Pancho Mariano Perez of Cadiz a feline of Spanish royal blood’

Peter still busily drying his guests shrugs his shoulders and utters

‘Oh I see okay Spanish Royal blood you say but never mind that, what puzzles me even more is that you are able to talk, how can that be?’

Pancho moans ‘Ouch! Oh! Ouch! Hey take it easy with that rag’

Peter stops the drying, strokes the fur to check it’s dry,

‘I know of birds that can talk the Parrot for instance, but never a cat’

‘Oh don’t you go worrying about me talking because all animals can talk’ replies Pancho

He casually jumps from the table and begins to survey the gatehouse surroundings at his leisure, Peter scratching his head watches the cat closely surveying his living quarters then asks

‘But you spoke in a language I couldn’t understand then you changed and began to speak in English, you seem to me to be ever so clever’

Pancho in flash jumps back up onto the large wooden table, confronts and eyeballs Peter

‘Spanish, I spoke in Spanish, I can talk in any language I choose . . . we felines are far more superior than humans, let me also tell you we have nine lives when you humans only have a measly one tut, tut.’

‘Oh right your excellence’ Peter says shaking his head and smiling

Pancho jumps back down from the table, surveys every nook and cranny in the gatehouse, satisfied all is in order he sits on his haunches staring Peter in the eyes once again, cheekily he asks

‘Do you have anything for me to eat? I’m famished’

He turns to Pancho who is now sitting with his chest out in a demanding pose.

‘I have some tins of war rationed powdered milk so if you want me to I could mix a few spoonfuls with water for you which should keep you nourished for a while, would you like that?’

Pancho with head held high, retorts

‘Come now, a lousy drink of milk, I’ve told you I am of royal blood I am of feline aristocracy, I’m used to food like fish or poultry to put the strength back into my body’

Peter unconcerned pulls the blankets back from the bottom of his bunk, places a hot iron wrapped in cloth to act has a makeshift water bottle where his feet will stay snug and warm for the night, he begins to try and explain.

‘Listen, the war has only just ended, I don’t have money for the likes of that up-market type of food your worship’ he says sarcastically ‘food doesn’t come easy anyway most foodstuffs are rationed’ peter finishes what he doing then goes on ‘listen to me, why don’t you catch a few mice surely that’s the type of food you are used to there should be lots of them around here’

Pancho is so fast and agile as he leaps back up onto the table to voice his complaint.

‘What are you saying, I’m not a cannibal I’m Pancho Mariano Perez of Royal feline blood and you expect me to feed on small vermin? How dare you? Enough of this nonsense I would rather stay hungry or even starve for that matter, anyway enough of this I wish to sleep now’

He circles the floor twice in front of the coke fire, lies down rolls himself into a ball

‘Small vermin indeed, what a cheek’ he mumbles before drifting into sleep

Peter tries hard to come to terms with these strange happenings that have unfolded during the night, tossing and turning in his bunk.

‘It has been so surreal so strange bordering on the unearthly, as long as I live I will never ever forget this day’ eventually he snuggles into his pillow falls into a deep sleep.

Early dawn Peter is awoken by the swishing of the cat’s tail on his face.

Peter slowly sits up in his bed ‘My goodness what a funny dream’ yawning stretching he swings his legs out of the bunk and begins rubbing the sleep from his eyes, at first he gets a fright when he spots Pancho ‘What the—’ suddenly he is brought back to realisation, he quickly remembers the strange and weird night before.

‘Oh of course the stray cat I rescued last night, I thought it was all a dream’

‘Stray cat indeed, I told you, I’m Pancho Mariano Perez of—

—’Oh shush!’ Says Peter ‘you have already told me who you’re supposed to be’

Peter lifts the blankets up reallyquick, sharply deliberately and forcibly shakes them trying to force Pancho to quickly jump down onto the tiled floor, Pancho is so fast he easily avoids the move landing on all fours sticks out his chest and cheekily asks

‘When do I get to eat?’

Peter now dressing looks at Pancho . . . nods his head

‘Oh well, I’ll see what I can do, I suppose you do need something to eat after your ordeal’

Peter quickly washes and dresses, he checks his massive ledger to find the rota times for the movement of the ships that will be in and out of his lock gates on this day before he leaves for the shops.

All prepared to leave for the local grocers to buy some groceries he opens the gatehouse door to the sound of ships horns and steam whistles echoing and drifting inland on the wind, he looks to the river and sees an array of ships, huge ships and small ships moving to and fro along the very busy Mersey river, he steps out into the cold morning air to leave but then he hesitates and says to the feline,

‘Oh by the way I’ve noticed the strange mark on your forehead, it looks just like a streak of lightning how come it’s like that?

‘How can I know that, it was with me when I first arrived on this planet Earth I was a little new born kitten, that’s all I know and that’s all I’m able to tell you for now’

‘Oh I see, I thought you were going to give me some more fascinating facts about the great Pancho Mariano Perez, like trying to convince me that you came down here from the stars in the sky from somewhere near the milky way ha, ha.’

Pancho suspiciously glares at Peter before quickly changing the conversation urging his new friend in a cheeky demanding tone.

‘Now don’t you forget to bring me something nice something really scrumptious’

‘Oh come off it’ Peter retorts ‘You are just a ships cat that was put on a Spanish coaster to keep the vermin down, just a simple ships cat who is going to eat what he is given’

Pancho bleats ‘How dare you, you will regret all these things you are insinuating’

‘Oh pipe down’ snaps Peter ‘I will be back in an hour or so’

As Peter leaves for the shops he locks the gatehouse door . . . Pancho jumps up onto the stool that is near to the control panel, tired and bored he drifts into a catnap.

41506.png

CHAPTER 2

He is soon awakened by the sound of Peters studded boots on the cobble stones with the noise from his rasping footsteps becoming louder and clearer as he approaches the gatehouse.

Pancho jumps down onto the floor standing by the large wooden door waiting in eager anticipation.

He begins to sing ‘Food glorious food, fresh fish and chicken giblets’

Moments later the gatehouse door opens in walks Peter bringing the wind and the cold air into the gatehouse with him, he carries the groceries in his bulky haversack Pancho rubs his head against Peter’s leg, he purrs, ‘What food have you brought for me my dear friend?’

‘Be patient, just wait and see’ replies Peter ‘I think I have a few treats that you will like’

‘Hurry then I am famished, I haven’t eaten for days’

‘Patience my little friend as I’ve said I’m pretty sure you will enjoy what I have for you’

He takes from his bag a neatly folded newspaper he unfolds and spreads the old newspaper onto the red and black floor tiles exposing plenty of tiny small portions of different mixed fish tails, chicken giblets, little pieces of bacon rind sprinkled with small pieces of Black pudding scraps,

Peter tells him ‘The grocer has a plastic container so that when he uses his meat slicer little morsels of the meat he cuts drops into it and mounts up, he usually puts it into his sausages but I told him about you so he kindly wrapped it up for me to give to you, what do you think about that, looks tasty doesn’t it?’

Pancho looks at the food then looks at Peter

‘Que es esto?’ oops! Sorry, I meant to say, what is that, scraping the bottom of the barrel aren’t we?’

Peter snaps back ‘Oh don’t be so ungrateful you fussy little feline it’s all good stuff’

‘Ha’ ha’ I only jest’ says Pancho ‘this will do very nicely thank you very much, but err, don’t you have a bowl for me to eat from instead of a grotty old newspaper?’

Peter looks to the ceiling shaking his head.

‘Will you just eat it, I’ll try and muster something up for you tomorrow, Okay’

‘Oh very well’ says Pancho as he settles down to concentrate on his meal beginning to munch away.

‘My oh my, I’ll tell you this Peter, to be very honest this food tastes very, very, nice’

Pancho devours every scrap of food that has been laid out before him, he moves away from the newspaper and begins to preen himself, sitting licking his paws cleaning his head and face he looks just like a Black Panther on a smaller scale, he is a jet Black cat with a small head that bares a white mark like a lightning streak his back end is much broader than his front his body is accommodated by two strong back muscular legs with the three White coloured paws on his feet that break up his Blackness, Peter watches him clean and preen.

‘Well it looks as though you really enjoyed that?’ says Peter

‘Oh yes I certainly did’ replies Pancho ‘But having said that I usually dine on much better up-market food than what you have just laid out before me and may I say from something more suitable than an old soggy newspaper’

Peter quips ‘Well I never you don’t say, you’ve already told me that’

‘Look I have said I enjoyed it, but I’m telling you once again just to make it sink in to that brain of yours, I usually eat from something much more suitable than a damp old newspaper’ says Pancho.

Peter raises his voice a little ‘Oh come of it after all you’re only a cat’ he then puts his hand to his chin, ponders for a few seconds then says ‘mind you, having said that I must admit I do think you’re a bit special’

Pancho springs up onto the table, he eyeballs Peter and quips.

‘Tell me why, what has made you change your mind, what makes you now think that I’m a bit special, are you beginning to see a bit of sense now?’

‘I thought that it’s plainly obvious, a simple feline talking in all kinds of different languages come on! What else am I supposed to think?’ Peter retorts

Pancho jumps down from the table, sits in front of the warm fire, turns his head to Peter

‘I’ll let you into a little secret, I shouldn’t be telling you this but all us animals can speak if they wish to, I mean all species of animals’

There is no response from Peter he just sits quietly in his battered old armchair and begins to fill his pipe with tobacco, he then lights it with a torn piece of newspaper getting a light from the coke fire, puffing away filling the air with the heavy sweet pungent smell of tobacco. He asks ‘Okay, but why did you pick on me talking so openly the way you did?’

‘Oh come of it you’re not that stupid are you, you saved me from losing a life I had to talk didn’t I, if I hadn’t shouted I would have been a drowned cat dead to the world wouldn’t I?’

Peter stands lays his pipe on the wooden table then walks over to his little white marble sink to wash his plate.

‘Come now surely you’re not suggesting that cats really do have nine lives?’

Pancho jumps back up onto the table . . . Peter sits down begins puffing away on his pipe once again.

‘Of course I have nine lives as a matter of fact I have already lost three of them’

Peter looks to the ceiling before staring at Pancho to say ‘Ok I’ve asked for this, come on tell me more, convince me’

Pancho jumps down from the table makes himself comfortable in front of the fire and he begins to tell his story.

‘You see these three white socks on my legs, they are what we cats call our ghost markings, each time any feline loses a life we return to living our next life with a part of our coat fur a different colour, like a badge of death you could say . . . look at me with my three white paws, when I was born to this world I was a totally Black kitten except for the White mark on my forehead, my Mother would always say that I’ve been touched by the great alley cat in cat heaven’

Peter settles back beginning to listen with interest to the story ‘Okay, I’m all ears now, so away you go’

Pancho goes on ‘Alright here is what happened, I was born in Cadiz southern Spain in a Counts palace and my parents were the counts favourite pets’

Peter interrupts with a sarcastic ‘you don’t say, count and countess, well I never?’

Pancho beams at Peter ‘These interruptions by you with your sarcasm gets you nowhere Peter, now are you going to listen or what?’

Peter with a little smile says ‘Sorry couldn’t resist that one . . . please carry on’

‘Just listen without the interruption please’ quips Pancho

Peter smiling says ‘Ok, Ok’

‘Right, we are no ordinary type cats we are Spanish aristocrats comfortable happy well fed contented cats, until one day the peasants from surrounding villages voted in a well known notorious villain as their new leader the rebellious Rico Pedrosa I think is his name, they decide to have a revolution, the first thing they do is storm the Palace which results in my parent’s lives ending there and then, my poor Mother and Father are drowned my Fathers lives end there because he is in his ninth life’

Peter is beginning to take a real interest in Pancho’s story, he pokes the fire before putting more coke on the fire from the shuttle bucket in the hearth, he then settles back down in his arm chair and carries on puffing away at his tobacco filled pipe . . . causing the pungent sweet smelling aroma around the already smoke filled room.

He says ‘Sorry for the interruption, Okay, so now you can carry on with your story Pancho’

Pancho stares out of the small window at the night sky and sighs.

‘My Mother bless her is in her eighth life, the last time I see her is when a little unshaven scruffy bandido grabs me by my tail and flushes me down the lavo which sends me hurtling down into the sewers, I never even saw the assassins eyes who ended my first life but I could smell his toxic whisky breath, he is wearing a filthy torn sombrero three times too big for his head which flapped and covered the evil face of my tormentor but I could still smell that stinky pungent alcohol on his wild breath, crazy, I’m knowing now my time is up and I’m also knowing now what to expect due to the teachings of my Mother, forever she is always reminding me teaching me that this is the way of the felines in life and in death, you get a number of chances she would tell me, so treat all your nine lives given to you with great respect.

41506.png

CHAPTER 3

I wake up on a beach, later I find I’m in a place called Genoa in Italy.

Bigger and now more mature, this is a place which I have never been or seen before. It’s then I realise that one of my paws has turned white, I begin to realise only because of my Mothers teachings as I have already explained, I must be in my second life now. I wander lost for a while not a kitten any more but a young cat lost in this strange but idyllic beautiful place, I am still able to remember the name I was given as Pancho Mariano Perez of Cadiz; oh yes from prosperity to promiscuity now lost and alone, eventually I am found and taken in by Italian farmers who quickly put me to work alongside a fat old giant ginger tom by the name of Finn or Flint, this Finn or Flint as got to be one of the biggest felines I’ve ever seen he is absolutely ginormous.

Our tasks is to catch and kill the vermin down in the barn area that is bothering the livestock, this crafty giant ginger cat who by the way has his fur littered with death patches shows me the art of catch and kill but there is a method in his teachings, it’s so he is able to sleep away the lazy sunny days while I do all the work, but having said that it helps me to become a supreme killer my muscular frame develops quickly, I set myself tasks to really test how good a rat killer I can really be or really become, sometimes I wait patiently for a group of rodents to come together in a pack of around ten to a dozen before I take them on, my speed increases to lightning fast, I become cool and clever in combat outwitting the rats on every occasion.

I am a quite contented cat well fed well looked after until this day, it is the day I’m on my leisure time, so I decide to check out the surrounding areas which are of an outstanding beauty. I’m leaving my scent markings at many places on my walkabout it is a lovely sunny day the aroma of the abundant flowers and plants tickle my nostrils when all of a sudden the peace is disturbed when I hear the loud sound of gunshots, many gunshots, it’s a hunt . . . I’m actually in the middle of the locals yearly annual hunt shooting party they have on the farm, how silly of me and how unfortunate for me, one of the party must have thought I were a Rabbit, lifts his shotgun and blasts me into my second life, this proves to be one of my very short existences, bye Italy hello Spain again I say, now I’m wearing my second white ghost sock.

Pancho is still transfixed looking out of the gatehouse window, reminiscing, staring at the stars in the night sky. Peter snuggles back into his armchair somewhat intrigued by the story, when he surprisingly

He asks ‘I must say although the big Ginger cat was a big idle layabout in a roundabout way but in the end he did help you to become a very mature cat, that was very interesting, now come on tell me more tell me how you came to get your third so called ghost marking?’

‘You could be right about that big Ginger Tom but okay now just settle down I’m coming to that moment where I received my third ghost marking’ retorts Pancho,

Peter laughs ‘Okay away you go’.

41506.png

CHAPTER 4

Well this is the life that put an arrow straight through this heart of mine, I met the love of this life a beautiful Persian turtle shell coated pussy named Rosalina, my life is so happy now so sublime and sweet, I am so blissfully happy and madly in love, I’m thinking sweet lovely Rosalina is my first feline love . . . But . . . unknown to me she already has a lover she never told me about.

It is a beautiful evening drifting slowly into twilight, Rosalina and I are walking along the riverbank beneath a glowing moon in a sky that is also displaying a million stars, this night is ever so romantic if this is what it feels like to be happy well in this moment I am loving it.

‘Suddenly from out of nowhere her feline fiancée appears in front of me ‘Oh my’ he is so big, also he is so angry, to me he looks to have a maturity of a cat who has seen a lot of lives, maybe his five or six, the closer he comes the bigger he looks he has a coat of deep grey with marks of white on two of his paws some on his back, his big back, his head is all white, he wears long black whiskers beneath his pink nose also beneath this pink nose of his he has really sharp teeth . . . long sharp teeth . . . I mean really long sharp teeth’ who is this angry fussy pussy I ask her, she then explains to me who the huge magnificent Tom is, from then on no questions are asked the Tom moves into a crouch position hissing and scowling he wants to take this intruder down which happens to be me, he thinks I’m trying to steal his true love away from him and I am.

Pancho begins to move around the tiled floor of the gatehouse in front of the fire mimicking the actions, shadow fighting, hissing tossing and tumbling as if he is actually back on the river bank fighting his huge feline opponent . . . the speed and the sharpness of Pancho’s fast lightning actions impress Peter so much, Pancho then stops looks at Peter and continues his story.

‘He shows his sharp needle like teeth at me . . . his claws are out ready . . . his long sharp claws . . . really long sharp claws, his back fur flares on his arched back . . . his tail swishes slowly from side to side . . . I have to make myself ready pronto.

I know he is ready to attack at any given moment, we stand face to face we circle each other slowly either of us refusing to look each other in the eye, we are hissing threatening to tear each other apart . . . in a slow motion action we are now both waiting patiently to see if either one of us will give way or even walk away.

Now we both adopt freeze the position, two cats like statuettes standing silent not a stare, not a single muscle tremble, behind my huge combatant I can see Rosalina her beautiful eyes stare in anticipation at the scene unfolding in front of her, her long black eyelashes flicker up and down as she blinks, she is indeed a gorgeous glamour puss worth fighting for this is a prize that is too good to lose.

Slowly, cautiously, we move forward toward each other . . . no ground is given . . . no turning back now. When all of a sudden quick as a flash it happens . . . we attack each other . . . he is strong and manages to gain the advantage . . . he turns me onto my back pinning me to the floor biting and ragging at my neck, however the advantage quickly turns my way as I am able to use my back legs like pistons tearing and scratching away at his underbelly . . . he lets go of me takes a backward step, this allows me to spring back onto my feet . . . dislodged fur droplets of blood float all around us.

Then when I quickly cuff him hard with my right paw so fast and fierce he loses his footing and topples into the fast flowing river . . . I watch as he struggles to swim to the side . . . ahead is a waterfall which has a long drop of about fifty feet into a part of the river that is even more treacherous.

‘Please help him’ pleads a tear filled Rosalina ‘please please help him’.

‘At first I didn’t want to chance it . . . I’m thinking it will be suicidal . . . but then Rosalina pleads even more strongly with tears in her eyes so ‘what can I do Peter, well, I’ll tell you what I did, I stupidly make the decision to jump into the fast flowing water, soon after a strenuous battle with the power of the river I manage to get him onto some rocks at the side of the river . . . it is really hard going for me first the fight with this powerful feline and then the river, I can feel my strength being quickly sapped away’

I just about manage to push him to safety onto the rocks . . . but . . . then the fast flowing water takes hold of my weakened body its power begins to carry me towards the waterfall . . . the last thing that I can remember about this life is Roger and Rosalina standing on the bank of the river embracing each other. Before I disappear over the waterfall to secure my third white sock, I’m shouting at the two timing Rosalina and her lover Roger, you dirty cats’

Peter shaking his head a wee bit angered, says

‘My God that is so unfair, that Roger is indeed a dirty cat . . . mind you Pancho I also have my doubts about your little sweet Rosalina, I think you’re right she is a two timing hussy of a pussy’.

He stands and walks to the window scratching his head looking out at the starry sky before turning to Pancho and asking

‘Now tell me how is it you managed to stay in Spain for you fourth life?’

Pancho jumps onto the table and fronts Peter

‘We cannot pick and choose any of our early lives, that only happens when our ninth life comes about, then is the only time we can choose which was our most favourite place to live, a special place where we have been at our most happiest’

Peter is quiet for a few moments then quizzes ‘Ok so from what you are telling me, it’s my understanding now that your Mother is or was able to choose the final life where she can spend her days, is that right?’

‘That’s right, now you’ve got it’ answers Pancho

Peter then drops a bombshell when he asks Pancho ‘But how was it that you ended up as just a ships cat surely you could have chosen somewhere better to live?’

‘But I had no choices like my Mother my time for that comes in my eighth life, at the time you speak of I was only my in first life, you haven’t been listening to me.

His tail begins to wag slowly he circles the top of the table staring angrily at Peter.

‘Now you listen to me Peter and you listen good . . . I will tell you once again, my name is Pancho Mariano Perez of Cadiz because Cadiz is where I am born, I became a very close and favourite pet of Count Mario Jesus Martinez Perez of Cadiz who owns Ships, Castles, and miles upon miles of vineyards and olive groves all across Southern Spain, now don’t you ever forget that’ he snaps

Peter sarcastically quips ‘Well ok, if that’s so, I am Papa Pedro Pelegrino of Padua, son of an Italian Count who is now off to bed for forty winks, I really enjoyed your story but don’t worry about the lovely Rosalina because there are plenty more Fish in the Sea’

Pancho, really upset, beams at Peter and scolds ‘Fish, felines don’t fall in love with fish stupid, we eat them, what a waste of an explanation that was’

He calms down, jumps from the table, stretches his body this way and that way does his little circles then settles on the tiles by the fire . . . he stares through the open door of the bedroom at Peter laying on his bunk before drifting into catnap land.

41506.png

CHAPTER 5

Early morning, there is a loud knocking on the door, Peter already up and dressed answers the door slowly not before signalling to Pancho to hide, Pancho quickly scurries underneath the control panel . . . the caller is Mr Catskill, Peters boss, he is checking to see that everything is in order at the gatehouse

‘Hello Peter, how are you this fine day?’ asks Mr Catskill

Pancho whispers from below the control panel ‘Catskill what kind of a name is that’

‘What, who said that? Didn’t you hear that?’ asks Catskill

‘Hear what?’ Peter asks

‘I’m sure someone spoke my name’ says Catskill, then he spots Pancho

‘What the hell is that old moggy doing in here you know animals are not allowed in the work place’ snaps Catskill

Pancho whispers ‘Me! an old moggy, well I must say the cheek of him’

Peter retorts quickly giving excuses and answers in defence of the cat being there.

‘But Mr Catskill all the workers in the dock sheds use the felines to catch the vermin’

Mr Catskill replies angrily ‘but that’s in the dock sheds where they do have a problem with the vermin I know all about that, surely that moggy isn’t needed in this gatehouse?’

‘But just lately I have been overrun by the little blighters; a good friend of mine gave me this moggy to keep them out of here Mr Catskill’

‘Even Peter is calling me a moggy mouser now’ whispers Pancho

Catskill begins to check the place out; he has a good look around the gatehouse, in the corners under the bunk in the other room, under the control panel,

Peter in high alert says ‘It’s usually only at night when they come in here Mr Catskill’

Catskill stares at Peter inquisitively for a few seconds before finally cooling down.

Pancho sits quietly, watches listens and tries to take in everything that is going on.

‘Okay let us just cool it down now, you see, the main reason for my visit is to inform you that an enormous cargo vessel from the United States of America will be coming through your lock gate on Thursday afternoon, so make sure everything is ship shape, be sure all goes to plan okay?’

‘I’ll log it in now Mr Catskill’ says Peter

Peter opens his massive ledger and begins to write down the instructions of Mr Catskill.

Catskill then assures Peter ‘You are a good man Pelligrino so I’ll let the moggy stay as long has you feed it out of your own pay packet’

Catskill prepares to leave, just has he opens the door to go. Pancho shouts ‘Skinflint, good riddance’

Catskill turns quickly ‘There, there it is again, I heard a voice speaking’

Quick as a flash Peter answers ‘It was me Mr Catskill I said it’s only a pittance’

Catskill still a bit suspicious says ‘Oh well, fair enough, see you later Pelegrino, cheerio’

Walking from the door Peter can hear him mumbling ‘I’m sure that gatehouse is haunted’

Peter hastily closes the door he then spins around to angrily scold his feline friend,

‘Why did you speak It could have spoilt everything I could have lost my job, and if he wanted to he could have threw you out on your tail, it was silly of you Pancho’

Pancho springs up onto the table, sarcastically mocks. ‘Come of it cats can’t talk, can they?’

Peter raises his eyebrows gives Pancho a sideward’s glance then calms down.

‘Ok, but never do that again when he calls, my heart was in my mouth he could have kicked you out on your butt, now promise, I don’t want to lose you?’ implores Peter

Pancho jumps from the table and rubs his head against Peters leg, purring

‘Ok I promise, I’m sorry Peter, now can I go outside and have a good look around, check out the surroundings’

Peter opens the gatehouse door, Pancho asks ‘So you don’t want to lose me hey?’

Peter aims a playful kick at Pancho who moves like a flash out of the way and out of the door.

‘That Mr kill the cats is loco . . . me Pancho Perez a moggy mouser indeed’ quips Pancho

41506.png

CHAPTER 6

Pancho walks slowly along the wet Grey and Black cobbled quays checking out the territory marking his trail as he goes, he spends hours checking here there and everywhere. The skeletons and the rubble of the old dock warehouses that have been flattened or half destroyed by the German Luftwaffe lay in waste amongst warehouses which are still left untouched by the German bombs.

As he inspects every nook and cranny on his walkabout his intuition keeps telling him all is not right, he feels there are many eyes watching his every movement, not realising the distance he has covered because he is so wrapped up in viewing his new surroundings he has moved a really good distance away from the gatehouse.

Satisfied now at what he has seen and having mapped out in his acute brain the ins and outs of the avenues, the nooks and crannies, the darkened areas, the still standing structures that are still standing next to the bombed out warehouses, he starts to head back.

He still has this feeling that his every move is being watched, he turns a corner of a bombed out warehouse when he comes face to face with an enemy of his feline world, a well muscled and vicious looking English male bull terrier.

They stand staring into each other’s eyes, the terrier bares his teeth making deep throated growling noises, Pancho remains cool calm and unbothered by this much larger beast that stands before him,

Pancho pouts ‘Ok Buster are you going to do something or are you just going to stand there trying your best to scare me with that big ugly mug of yours?’

The terrier becomes really angry, he springs into action and jumps in at Pancho . . . Pancho moves like lightning and evades the canines sudden lunge, in a flash he is now behind his canine assailant. ‘Hey buster here I am’ quips Pancho

The terrier turns instantly, he is quick but not as quick as Pancho he moves in once again lunging in a little faster this time, once again his attempt fails.

‘Tut tut, are you sure you’re a dog because I’m thinking maybe you’re a tortoise?’ Pancho taunts ‘you’re really very slow’

The terrier is now infuriated, he begins to snarl louder, his beautiful formed muscular body seemingly trembles with anger while growling more incessantly, but this new feline on the dock called Pancho is one real cool cat, ‘Temper temper now’ Pancho scoffs

The muscular terrier comes hurtling in again Pancho whips like a flash between and through the terriers legs, he is behind his canine opponent once again, this time he goes on the attack at great speed launching himself and jumping onto the terriers back, claws his way up onto the terriers head sinks his extended claws into the terriers neck so no matter how much the terrier tries he cannot shake off the slick battling feline.

‘I could take out your eyes if I wish’ he warns the bull terrier

With claws now hooked firmly into the terrier’s neck the fight turns into a feline, canine, rodeo.

‘Do you wish to concede big guy?’ Pancho whispers in his ear

The bull terrier is now beginning to tire very quickly, his movement slows right down then he stops, panting, out of breath.

‘That’s me finished, I’m knackered, let’s call it a draw?’ puffs the terrier gasping for air

Pancho beams ‘Come on now that was no draw, you give up, you lost big guy’

‘Okay . . . you won . . . I lost . . . so be it . . . anything you say’ says the panting terrier.

Soon after the battle peace is restored, the terrier tries all kinds of excuses about his poor showing in battle, then to Pancho’s great surprise the terrier wants to begin a friendly conversation. ‘Ah shucks you caught me on a bad day; I’m usually much more aggressive than that’ says an embarrassed canine

Tongue in cheek Pancho answers ‘Oh never mind you tried your best I suppose . . . anyway what brings you down here onto the dockland?’

‘Aw! I followed a bitch, lost it, worse luck, don’t know where it went’ replies the bull terrier

‘Have you a master that provides for you?’ Pancho asks

‘No the bombs took care of that, the house we lived in was flattened . . . there was a direct hit on my kennel too, luckily for me I was out that day too, chasing a bitch . . . do you have a master?’

Pancho sticks out his chest, puts his nose in the air.

‘Me, me, do I have a master you ask don’t be silly of cause I don’t have a master . . . I do have a human friend though with whom I share an accommodation’.

He then gives the terrier a sideward glance ‘Master indeed?’

The terrier stares at Pancho their eyes lock . . . the terrier asks ‘Do you talk to him like you talk to me?’

Realising he has broken the secret code of all animals, for the first time Pancho goes on the defensive, it is his turn to feel a bit embarrassed the boot is on the other paw now.

‘Err, why yes, but I had to, there was a reason for speaking because at the time I was in fear of my life, I had to shout for him to help me because it was a life or death situation’

The terrier responds quickly, accepting that Pancho is well within his rights ‘Oh don’t you go worrying yourself about that, I won’t hold it against you, due to the humans war it’s every animal for himself these days, did he get a shock when you spoke to him?’

‘did he get a shock? He nearly had a fit’ scoffs Pancho

The two new found friends laugh hysterically . . . after the laughter subsides, Pancho asks

‘Anyhow, now that we are acquainted what is your proper name?’

‘Rocky, Rocky Brindle, brindle is my colour really’

Pancho smiles, ‘Rocky Brindle what a name, I am Pancho Mariano Perez of Cadiz’

Rocky cannot contain himself from laughing out loud, he says

Ha’ Ha’ Ha’ and you know what my name is, Rocky Brindle Baron of Bootle Ha’ Ha’

Pancho stops and stares into the canine’s eyes, then goes on to explain, insisting.

‘well I must inform you, I actually come from good stock upper class stock in the feline world you might say, that is the name which was given to me’

Rocky stops the laughing ‘Okay so that’s your name, no problem, but you won’t mind if I just call you Pancho?’

‘Okay if you wish, but don’t you think your name Rocky sounds real tough?’ hints Pancho

‘I suppose so’ offering his paw to Pancho ‘Don’t you think we can be real friends now?’

‘Of course I have no objection to a canine feline friendship, as a matter of fact I would like that very much’ says a smiling Pancho

41506.png

CHAPTER 7

They walk along the avenue together, a wintery sun lights up the sky, there is a chill in the air with plenty of noise coming from the surrounding dockland as the dockworkers of Liverpool get stuck into their daily chores, small cargo bogies and squeaky crane noises echo and fill the avenues with sound on the quay’s, the dock berths are full of all the nations ships flying their curtsy flags trying to catch up to business as usual because of the relentless bombing during the war.

‘You’re a big muscled breed Rocky but you really are ugly, with your white head, long snout, pink jowls, and that multi-coloured body’

‘Brindled body . . . brindled’ says Rocky

‘Okay brindled but that long snout and those bloodshot eyes, damn ugly if you ask me’

‘But this is what it is, this my breed, this is the way we are supposed to look’ explains Rocky

‘Doesn’t change my opinion one bit, still damn ugly if you ask me’ scoffs Pancho

‘what about you, have you seen that stupid mark on your forehead, you’d think a human had painted it on your face, it looks like a streak of lightning where did that come from, it looks so perfect yet sort of strange if you ask me’

‘Look I am asked this stupid question all of the time, I was born with it okay’ Pancho answers ‘now enough of that okay’.

They spend hours together walking and talking inspecting other dockland sheds and avenues when the two unlikely friends come upon some temporary wooden shelters built with Pallet boards that are filled with straw . . . Rocky begins to wag his tail excited he says

‘Wow, what a find I’ll come here tonight, you know what, I’ve been sleeping dog rough for weeks, this place looks ideal for me what do you think Pancho?’

Pancho moves towards to check out the pallets and investigate further, he checks each one looking closely for any tell-tale signs that would warrant any danger for his new found friend, after sniffing and smelling he walks back to join Rocky, explaining.

‘I feel I should warn you Rocky I can smell breeds of your own kind on the straw, if you ask me the smells are quite recent, I’d be very wary about spending my nights here.

‘Ok I’ll come back tonight check it out, if it’s still vacant I’ll stay’ hints Rocky

Rocky is about to take his leave when he turns to Pancho and tells him

‘I’ll bring my little friend along tomorrow he’s a Russell terrier his name is Magnus the Magnificent, I promise you’ll