Where's Hettie?

I called Sarah to let her know that I was in the taxi and on my way home. No answer. I tried her mobile, but again no answer. I left it a little while, until I was half way home and she picked up the phone. 'We've had a bit of a thing here' she said. I thought Oh my God what now? Apparently, Hettie did not come home the previous night and still wasn't home when Sarah had finished work the following day.
So Sarah went outside calling her name and eventually got a meek answer from somewhere? After using her native cat catching skills Sarah tracked the meow down to the house next door...that is under the house next door!
Sarah knocked on our neighbours (strangers!) door and explained the situation...asking if she could take a look under the house. Its not the first time that Hettie has got into something that she can't get out of. She did exactly the same thing at Thelma Avenue on the Gold Coast. Anyway, minutes later Sarah is crawling on hands and knees under the house with no care for the dangers that lurked around and the potential for spiders. Dust and cobwebs would not deter her from her mission. To get Hettie!
Hettie, Hettie she called and the constant reply of meow (I'm over here!), Meow (I'm over here!) could be clearly heard.
Unfortunately when in this situation Hettie has 'stickpawitus' and cannot move. She just sits rigor mortis like and meows, not budging an inch.
Hettie was not going to move into the light and be seen, let alone grabbed and bagged! Sarah asked our neighbour, the younger of the family, if there was another door that would give access to the other side of the house. Indeed there was and as the young escort accompanied Sarah to the north side the older...a sweet Chinese lady mumbled on and on in some horribly strange language. Probably muttering about it not being good to disturb the spirits that slept there. Just as well Sarah can't speak angry Chinese.
The new door appeared. When I say door, it really was  something on hinges about the size of a tray. So Sarah squeezed through and began the Hettie chant. Out of the darkness the torch found two owl like eyes peering back. The brown beast had been found. However, it would not move. It could hear the sweet incantation of the mother Sarah, but all the beast could see was another more menacing beast with one bright lethal and blinding eye...the torch!
By now Sarah was pretty tired, dusty and just about had enough of the bloody cat. So she decided to just let her stay there and come out in her own time. How she got under the house is anyones guess..but there she sat. Our English speaking neighbour allowed Sarah to keep the small tray door open. And low and behold within 30 minutes the fluffy brown four paw was back home, none the wiser or caring. By the time I got home Sarah looked as if she had just come up from a mine. I don't know who was worse off, my Sarah or Sarah Ferguson?!

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