Reggie by Judy Mitchell

 

‘You caught me napping. Yes, this is my corner. Bin my favourite spot for years. It’s in the sun, see. Wall gets warm and I like that heat on my back. Not as supple as I used to be.

Round here, they knows it’s my space, so I gets left alone. Sometimes some young, smart-arsed tom thinks he’ll push me around but they only do it once. Life in the old fella yet!

She lives here; Violet. The cat lady they calls her, those neighbours with their tattoos and piercings and walnut whips like remould tyres. Their kids shout out at her. Caught one yesterday throwing bird seed. I spat at the little wretch and it frightened her enough for her to go crying to her ma. I saw them pointing in my direction but I hoofed it before they could do anything else to annoy me.

Of course, if Ronnie’d bin here we’d ha sorted ‘em all out. No one f***s with us. But he’s bin gone years. We was like twins. We didn’t start fights, we finished them.

Some said we was ugly but Violet never said that. Course, the old boat race has changed a bit over time. I lost an eye in the mother-of-all-fights at Catford. They came looking for us. Wanted to finish us off but we had too many in the Firm by then to let anyone that close. Remember old Jack the Cat McKitie? He thought he was going to move onto our patch. Thought he was the dog’s bollocks so we had to put him right. Very nasty affair.

Are you looking at my nose? Not a pretty sight I’m afraid. Lost a lot of fur seeing off the hedgehogs who spent years trying to move into our parish under the shed. But don’t get me wrong, I’m not always fighting. I still knows how to party.

We knew ‘em all, back in the day. Diana Paws, Frankie Sonata, Julie Farland, Babs from Windsor and loadsa earls and lords. Some very naughty toffs, I can tell you.  

Wait, would you Adam and Eve it? There’s a mouse over by the bench. It’s not seen me. I likes a bit of mouse for breakfast. Keep quiet and don’t move. Just got to cover five yards and it’s mine.

There. Tasty little git. I’m Reggie by the way and I’m still Hank Marvin. Not much meat on a mouse. Violet might have put something out for me. I’ll go inside and look.’