Author: Real Stories

THE SAUSAGE THIEF

He couldnt help but notice that cat. Mostly because the cat was always pinching things from his little grocery shop. But he did it with such charm, it was completely impossible to be angry. Quite the opposite, in fact.

The shopkeeper actually started looking forward to the whole spectacle. Hed film the whole event on his phone, then show it to his wife in the evening, and the two of them would have a good laugh together. So, heres how it usually went.

The cat would spend an age sitting calmly by the open door, pretending that he was only there for a little rest, not up to anything suspicious at all. Hed glance around, checking carefully to ensure nobody was watching. The shopkeeper would be hiding behind the big chiller, recording the action.

The cat would then slink in, heading straight for the counter with the sausages. There, hed speed up, snatch a sausage or frankfurter, and dash out in a flash. But hunger always got the better of him. Only a few metres from the shop, hed stop and tuck into his loot.

The shopkeeper would come outside and, without getting too close, ask,
Tasty, is it?
The cat would look up and give a hearty meow in agreement.
Thats all right then, the man would reply.
Come back whenever.

You might wonder why the sausages were out there on the counternot in the fridge, not tucked away, and even set out as individual frankfurters and sausages. The explanation was perfectly simple: the shopkeeper just had a kind heart.

He decided to feed the cat this way. The cat had first appeared at the shop, skin and bone, clearly starving, but absolutely refused to come near the man or accept any food hand-fed to him. So, the man found another way.

At first, he left sausages right by the shop entrance, so that Oscarthats what hed named the thiefcould help himself, honest as can be, by working for his meal. It did the trick. Gradually, the shopkeeper put the sausages further and further inside, until they ended up on the lower shelf beneath the main counter, close to the floor.

Oscar had long since earned the right to simply stroll in, pick whatever he fancied, and stroll out again. But, the thing is, ladies and gentlemen, it was all about the chase: stolen food always tasted better.

Later, the man set up a water bowl just outside, a big dish of the finest cat food, and a plastic tub filled with sand. Next to that, he put a little dog kennel with a warm blanket inside. Oscar was still cautious and wouldnt let anyone near him, but he did enjoy a chat.

The shopkeeper would follow after the stolen sausage and start up a conversation. Oscar, enjoying his meal, would sometimes glance up at the man and meow back.

But one thing started to puzzle the shopkeeper: Oscar was no longer thin and ragged, in fact, he looked healthy as ever and didnt seem in need of sausage theft any more. Yet, without fail, twice a day Oscar would nab a couple, then vanish around the corner. The shopkeeper tried again and again to find out where Oscar was running off to, but the cat always slipped away.

So the man bought a small camera with a good angle of view and set it up so he could watch on his computer in the back. One day at last, he discovered Oscars secret.

A ginger kitten darted out from the cellar window of the house round the corner, pouncing eagerly on the sausage Oscar brought him.

Tomorrow, you hear me! Tomorrow, youre bringing them BOTH home! the mans wife declared that evening, tears of laughter and joy running down her face.

It turned out, however, to be quite impossible. Oscar was easy to catch by nowhe napped right in the middle of the shop often enoughbut the kitten would be impossible to get ahold of.

The days went by. On the computer, the shopkeeper watched as the little ginger kitten sipped water from Oscars bowl or dozed in the dog kennel. But at the slightest attempt to approach, the kitten scampered off, his tail up like a ginger lightning bolt.

One day things changed. There was a strange sound coming from by the shop door; no customers were around. Leaving his spot behind the counter, the man walked towards the noise.

There was the ginger kitten, sitting on the shops doorstep, mewling at the top of his lungs.

Whats wrong, little one? asked the man, surprised.

The kitten scooted up, looked straight into his eyes, and dashed off for the exit. Without thinking, the man followed. Around the corner of the house lay Oscar, howling in painhed been bitten by a dog on his right hind leg. Hed managed to escape, but the wound was deep.

The ginger kitten pressed his little head to Oscars side and yowled again.

Oh, you poor things, said the shopkeeper.

He took off his jacket and wrapped Oscar up in it, gently lifted the unresisting kitten, and tucked him into his suit pocket. On the way out, he shut the shops front door and got in the car.

They spent five hours at the vet, while the wound was cleaned and stitched up. The shopkeeper and the kitten, whom he now christened Flame, got thoroughly acquainted in that time. Flame was playful and chatty.

That evening, the shopkeeper closed up the shop and took a woozy Oscar and the lively Flame home. His wife was delighted. And what do women do when theyre happy? Thats rightthey ring round all their friends. That process takes hoursit demands detailed stories, explanations, and advice.

When she finally finished, the man, Oscar, and Flame were sprawled out asleep across the bed.

Well, this is a fine thing, remarked his wife.
Where am I supposed to sleep?

No matter. Flame was only too happy to make room, and he snuggled up to her, kneading her gently with his tiny paws.

And that, you see, is how they found their family.

Now the two big, well-fed cats hardly resemble strays at all. Sometimes, for old times sake, Oscar will give Flame a wash and Flame never complains.

And across the road, in front of the shoe shop, a little grey female cat has settled. The sales assistant is always popping round to the grocery shop to buy her food.

Perhaps one day shell take her home too. Perhaps, someday, cats will become so few that youll have to join a long queue and take a special course to be allowed one.

What do you think? Could it ever come to that?

THE SAUSAGE BANDIT

He simply couldnt ignore this cat. Not because he was any old cat, but because he kept pilfering from his little grocery shop. And the way he did itwell, it was impossible to be cross with him. Quite the opposite, really.

In fact, the owner actually looked forward to these performances, phone ready to capture every delightful moment. In the evenings, hed replay the footage for his wife, and together, theyd have a proper laugh. Well, there you are.

The cat would always sit extravagantly outside the open shop door, acting very much like hed just paused for a restheaven forbid anyone suspect he was up to something dodgy. Hed glance about to make sure no one was looking. The owner, meanwhile, would hide behind the massive fridge, perfectly positioned for his secret filming.

Gingerly, the cat would saunter in, head held high, and make a beeline for the sausage counter. There, hed quicken his pace and, with one swift movement, nab a Cumberland or a chunky pork banger before dashing out the door. But, being utterly famished, hed seldom make it more than a few feet from the shop before dropping to the pavement to devour his prize.

The owner would step outside and, keeping his distance, call out,
Tasty, is it?
The cat would look up and meow approvingly.
Well, thank goodness for that, then, said the owner.
Pop by again if you fancy!

Now, you may be wondering, why leave all those sausages on the counter, not in the chiller, sitting right in reach? And why are the bangers and mini-porkers lying there loose and ready for the taking? The answers simple enough.

The shopkeeper had a heart of gold, really. He decided to help the cat outhe arrived at the shop all skin and bones, poor thing, but no matter what, he simply wouldnt come near or accept food straight from the owners hand. So, our grocer devised a clever plan.

He started by placing the sausages right by the door, so Bandityes, the rogue had earned a namecould pinch his own dinner, feel hed earned it. Honest work, in a manner of speaking.

It worked wonders. Gradually, the owner moved the sausages further and further inside, until eventually, the stash lived on the bottom shelf beside the other groceriesa proper little sausage depot down at floor level.

Bandit could have just strolled in and helped himself anytime, but heres the thing, ladies and gentlemen: Its all about the thrill. Theres nothing quite like a stolen snack.

Soon enough, the owner set up a water dish, a splendid bowl of premium cat biscuits, and even a plastic tray of sandall outside the shop. Also nearby stood a small dog kennel, fitted out with a snuggly tartan blanket.

Bandit was still pretty cagey, mind you, and wouldnt let himself be picked up or petted. But he was chatty, to say the least.

After each sausage heist, the owner would follow him out and strike up a friendly conversation. Bandit would sometimes pause mid-bite to glance up, give a little reply, then get back to business.

But lately, the shopkeeper had a burning question on his mind. Bandit now looked plump and polished and most definitely didnt need to steal sausages anymore. Yet, two or three times a day hed still nip in, nick a sausage or two, and scarper round the corner.

Several times, the owner tried to tail him, but Bandit was always too quick. So, he installed a tiny security camera with a decent angle, streaming the action straight to the back office computer. And one fine day, he finally unlocked Bandits secret.

Out of the basement window round the corner popped a scrappy little ginger kitten, who pounced eagerly on the goodies Bandit delivered.

Tomorrow! Do you hear me? TOMORROW youre bringing them both home! cried the grocers wife that evening, dabbing at her eyes.

But that was easier said than done. Catching Bandit was now childs playhed even started snoozing smack in the middle of the shop. But the kitten? That was a different story entirely.

Day after day, the shopkeeper watched the camera feed: the little ginger, drinking from Bandits water bowl or napping in the kennel, but at the slightest approach, hed bolt like an orange lightning bolt, tail stuck straight in the air.

Everything changed one afternoon. The grocer heard a racket coming from the shop entrance. No customers about.

He left the counter and followed the noise. There, perched on the doormat, sat the ginger kitten, yowling his head off.

Whats wrong, little one? the man asked.

The kitten darted up, stared him straight in the eyes, then dashed off. The owner, without thinking twice, followed. Round the corner, Bandit was lying on the ground, whimpering. A dog had bitten his back right leghed managed to escape, but the wound was nasty.

The ginger kitten pressed his head into Bandits side and wailed again.

Oh, for heavens sake, murmured the shopkeeper.

He shrugged off his coat, bundled up the moaning Bandit, scooped up the ginger kitten, and stuck him in his jacket pocket.
He locked up the shop and headed straight for the car.

They spent five hours at the vet while Bandits leg was stitched up and cleaned. Plenty of time for man and kittenwhom he promptly named Sparksto become the firmest of friends. Turns out, Sparks was a cheeky, sociable little chap.

That evening, with Bandit still groggy from the anaesthetic, the grocer brought both cats home. His wife was utterly over the moon. And what does a happy wife do? Rightrings every friend shes ever known. Thats a long, serious process, involving many explanations and much advice.

By the time shed finished, the man, Bandit, and Sparks were all fast asleep, sprawled across the bed.

Well, really, she said.
And where exactly am I supposed to sleep?

But Sparks happily shuffled over, curled up beside her, and kneaded her with his tiny paws.

And so, at last, they all found their home.

Now, two hefty, contented cats loaf about the place, with not a trace of their scruffy street days. Sometimes Bandit, out of habit, still grooms Sparks, who seems perfectly content to let him.

And across the road by the shoe shop, a tiny grey cat has set up camp. The sales assistant pops over regularly to grab a bite for her from the grocers shop.

Maybe shell take her home. Maybe, one day, theyll all get adopted. And cats will become so rare, youll need to join a waiting list and take special training courses just to get one.

What do you think? Could it ever come to that?