Cat-Astrophe!

Feline shenanigans with clandestine stowaway of the furry variety

 

It was a glorious, balmy summer evening and I was loving my first months on the road as a “proper” trucker, having upgraded from a little 7.5-tonner to a splendid 26-tonne DAF CF rigid. My job was to deliver agricultural supplies, tipping them myself using the truck-mounted Moffett forklift. I was all over the country, sometimes well off the beaten track, sometimes away for three nights in a row. Living the dream!

Farm deliveries were a regular part of the job, and I’d soon got to know some of the farmers. I was often supplied with tea and biscuits and was able to park up on the farm at night. No smelly lay-bys or noisy truck stops for me. As I said, it was coming to the end of another fine day and I was at my last drop – I wasn’t far from the depot so I would be getting home that night.

I pulled up at the farm and, although it was getting late, it was still warm. I had learned to be cautious when first arriving at farms, mainly due to the enthusiastic (or otherwise) reception I’d receive from dogs. No such problems here, with just one friendly Jack Russell to contend with that recognised me from my previous visit. There were also a few cats milling around. Big, mean farm cats that were bigger than the dog, but they were never a problem; they’d usually just completely ignore me.