I was distraught about my missing cat. But our family dog was trying to tell me something. By Michele Rose, 60
I glanced at the oven clock, then peered out the back patio doors into the darkness.
Mowgli, one of my two rescue cats, hadn’t come home for his tea.
Probably having too much fun, I told myself.
If something needed investigating, fearless Mowgli was on it.
By bedtime though, I was really worried, and spent a restless night listening out for the catflap.
When Mowgli still wasn’t back at home in Callington, Cornwall, by morning, I went out shaking a box of his favourite dried food and calling his name.
I scoured hedgerows and asked neighbours if they’d seen him. The lady from Dogsbodies Pet Shop in town offered to put a post on the village Facebook page too.
My husband Michael was working away, and the worry about Mowgli was awful.
Was he locked in someone’s shed? Had he been hit by a car?
Mowgli’s brother Balloo constantly searched the garden. Meanwhile, our springer spaniel Daisy — who was like a little mum to both cats — was unusually quiet.
After six days, I was starting to give up hope.
Then, that afternoon, I was wheeling a barrow of leaves to the small strip of land we owned behind our garden, when Daisy suddenly put her nose to the ground and shot into the woods a few feet away.
She came back, then did the same thing again.
‘What is it, Daisy?’ I asked, following her this time.
Daisy’s nose never left the ground as together we picked our way through the undergrowth.
Finally we reached some barbed wire and a sign that read: ‘Danger! Deep Mine Shaft.’
Daisy stopped dead.
‘Mowgli?’ I called out, hardly daring to hope.
Then a pitiful cry came — from inside the mineshaft!
Hands shaking, I texted my two grown-up sons, Hamish and Alexander: I think I’ve found him…
Next I called the RSPCA, who said they’d get someone out as soon as possible.
I knew they were was overstretched, and the wait was agonising.
Knowing we’d need specialist rescue equipment, I tried the fire brigade. But they needed the RPSCA to request that they attend.
Finally, the RSPCA officer arrived and agreed we needed the fire crew. But it was decided it was now too dark for a safe rescue before the morning.
‘If any animal can survive this, it’s a cat,’ the officer tried to reassure me. ‘They’re incredibly resilient.’
'Well done for finding him'
I spent the night sitting up with Daisy. Then at first light, I was back at the mine.
‘Mowgli?’ I called out.
‘Meeoow,’ came a timid reply.
Two fire crews arrived with ropes, lines and abseiling kit. But the basket kept getting caught and it was two more hours before I could see Mowgli’s little face as the basket appeared.
I whisked Mowgli straight to the vet, where amazingly a check-up showed he didn’t have a scratch on him — despite falling a whopping 100ft down the shaft!
He’d only lost 200g since his last weigh-in, too.
Back home he affectionately wound himself around Daisy’s body as soon as he saw her, and nodded a hello to Balloo.
‘Well done for finding him,’ I told Daisy, feeding her some treats, and showering her with cuddles.
Everyone jokes she’s a real-life Lassie, tracking Mowgli down and saving the day. She’s our very own su-paw-star!
*Michele is splitting her fee for this story between the RSPCA and The Firefighters Charity.
Visit firefighterscharity.org.uk and rspca.org.uk
BLOB: For more pet stories, advice and shopping visit takeabreak.co.uk/pets