Charms

Things had not been going swimmingly. Speaking on a larger scale or a smaller scale, things were simply not peachy and they hadn’t been for a while now. Not only had someone rear-ended him at a junction devastatingly close to his home last weekend, but he had also dribbled toothpaste down his only fresh shirt this morning. It was his only fresh shirt because his iron had given up the ghost on Tuesday, although not before leaving with a perfectly half-ironed shirt, arguably even less professional than a completely non-ironed one. Anyway, life had taken a curious turn and he had had quite enough.

His old neighbour from the first house he had lived in growing up had owned three black cats. Three black cats seemed like a very obviously worrisome idea to little him, but she had never seemed to have to wear half ironed clothes so he presumed maybe she had been on the right side of the fight. Perhaps having a black cat around would bring him the boost he needed. After removing his failure of a shirt and ‘borrowing’ a shirt from the drawer dedicated to very late work finishes when his partner would crash at his, he jumped very cautiously into his car, fresh out of the garage as it was, and off he trundled across town to find himself a new friend.

She had green eyes, of course she did, she was a black cat. Apart from that, there wasn’t much else to say, she was pretty self explanatory. She seemed friendly enough, even if friendly was just another way of saying terrified in this situation. But she appeared to trust him though, had chosen him as an acceptable human shield and he accepted that position graciously. If she was here to protect him from vicious irons with malicious plans he could pull his weight too he supposed. They settled at home together and he looked forward to the improvements he hoped would be over the top and immediate. 

His hopes of everything being fine and dandy were quickly scuppered. Probably the only important meeting of the year in which he would actually have to present, and he had spilt coffee down himself. Spilt coffee down himself indeed, wasn’t that what they did on the television, people were not meant to do that in real life surely. Apparently they did, and so he spent his morning in an unpleasant public bathroom using much too much toilet paper to clean down his trousers. They had been cream. He felt a horseshoe was in need.

He had read about horseshoes in books and the other people at school had always accepted the fact that they were lucky, although where they got that information from he was unsure. Figuring it was worth a shot anyway, he went on a trek. Out of the city and toward an expanse of land that he figured must surely inhabit even just a few horses. Come the evening, he was considering delaying the horseshoe mission and just surveying bootsales in the near future to see if they could help him out there. So accepting his desire for luck as yet another casualty of his bad luck, he headed for home empty handed, but not before briefly becoming locked in a petrol station bathroom which did not improve his day, but did make his mission seem significantly more urgent.

Sticking with the theme, he decided that if a horseshoe was unattainable, he would find a four-leaved clover. How he was to go about that he was unsure. If he had failed to locate a horseshoe in the roughly eight farms he had encountered which housed horse-looking animals, finding a four-leaved clover seemed an even larger and more unlikely obstacle. Nevertheless, acquiring a quite frankly unwilling partner, he headed out. After a day of walking or crawling through fields, their pockets were still empty, although maybe slightly more green tinged than they had been that morning. He had at least enjoyed himself, although he wouldn't dare mention that in front of his unhappy companion.

His recent failures had him convinced for a good few days that maybe it was all over. His inability to continue his side of the fight was surely a signal that the fight itself was over, he could go back to living his life as he expected, and not encountering various disappointing instances throughout his day. That was not true. An unpleasant encounter with a doorstop that certainly had not been there two seconds before, and an even more unpleasant encounter with the floor a few seconds later, convinced him that more drastic action was needed. Where does one find a rabbit foot.

With the idea of a bootsale becoming continuously more promising, he collected a less than delighted partner yet again, and they headed off in the direction of the nearest heavily populated back field. By midday, the less than delighted partner had become, if it was possible, even less delighted than he had originally been, and they both admitted this was quite probably not a good use of their time. Perhaps the next solution on the list should be easier to obtain. And what easier to find in London than a Maneki-Neko.

Their afternoon therefore consisted of travelling Chinatown, looking deeply into the eyes of some cats, and deciding which one they felt could be the most help. Eventually a decision was made, and a small golden one was purchased, placed very gently in a bag, and transported home where it was sat on the windowsill in pride of place. Much as with the real cat who was coincidentally also currently sat on the windowsill, he figured the more respect he treated it with, the more likely it might be to extend its graces to him. At this point he was very ready to give up on this mission, but he could still hope. He felt less inclined to hope though, when the black cat took a significant liking to the golden one and sent it tumbling, in a very undignified manner, to the floor.