Looking for trouble

Mr Perkins was supervising me cutting down the dill, when he started stalking an overgrown bush against the bottom wall. I followed him, hoping he wasn't after a mouse or a bird or something.

It was neither.

It was Mason.

Mason lives over the road, and is friendly to no-one, except his mammy, and that's only sometimes. He doesn't like his daddy; it's mutual.

Mason is a big fat cat; he's black and long-haired. It's understandable he'd want to find a cool shady spot. But not on Mr Perkins' turf.

Mr Perkins yowled and growled at Mason. Mason growled and yowled at Mr Perkins.

I had to help my boy out, but what could I do? Mason was so far in the bush, I couldn't reach him to chase him away. I'd have to cut the bush back.

I got my secateurs and started clipping away at the bush, getting nearer and nearer to Mason.

After a while, Mr Perkins took a step back, letting me get on with cutting and Mason get on with growling — at me.

Then I was one branch away from Mason. He growled. He yowled. He hissed. He spat. I reached for the last branch. Mason took a swipe at me. I pulled my arm back pronto. I looked at Mason; he was giving me the evil eye. I tried again to get the branch. Swipe. I was wearing gloves, but I needed gauntlets. Hiss. There was no way this was going to work. Growl. I didn't know what to do.

Mr Perkins did: he returned and backed me up, yowling and growling. Mason could take no more: he slunk off behind the greenhouse and under the fence into next door's garden. Mr Perkins sat on sentry duty for a while, just to make sure. I watched Mason slink back to his own house, where he stretched out in the shade under the utility meters.

Mr Perkins came back up the garden, and lay on the drive. I started taking the gardening tools inside; Mr Perkins started edging towards the road. I came back outside to find him across the road, sneaking round the house opposite's car. He was heading towards Mason, who was doing nothing but lie quietly on his own turf, minding his own business (see photo). I couldn't believe Mr Perkins was going after Mason after all that.

I made sure no cars were coming.

"Perkins."

He knows I'm being stern when I call him that. He looked round at me. I checked for cars again.

"Come here."

He glanced back at Mason, then came trotting across the road.

I went to the open back door.

"Get in."

He went in. He's such a good boy.