Woody's Ghost
by Eric Solomon

As a hard-bitten scientist I am no supporter of the occult, nor of
ghosts in particular.

Nevertheless, I cannot explain certain things
that occurred after my cat died.

Playing in a Croquet tournament in 1979 I, each day, passed a
tabby cat who had taken up residence in our hedge. Clearly she
was a lucky cat because that was one of the few tournaments I won.
The cat, always covered in twigs, was clearly a stray.
So I adopted her and named her 'Woody'.

No one could have asked for a more friendly and intelligent pet
than Woody. She lived with me for four happy years then, one day
when I was out, she was savaged by a dog. Despite veterinary care
she died of her injuries three days later under my bed. I was heartbroken.

That night I went to bed without the usual 'Goodnight' visit,
and without the warm bundle nestling against my feet. Then,
around 5-00 am. I felt Woody jump on the bed, and walk up my body with
stiffened paws to maximise the 'wake-up' effect. This seemed quite normal
when breakfast was due, though this was somewhat early. In a second
or two, I realised that it was far from normal, sat up, felt the recoil
as she jumped off the bed, and heard the rattling and squeaking of my
loose floorboards as she raced to the kitchen. So realistic were these
sensations that I got up and searched the flat.

This happened the next night, then the next, and I rationalised it as
something I had been, as it were, programmed to expect. I no longer
searched the flat of course, but on the third night I heard angry voices
on the stairs outside. Then a loud knock on the front door. It was the
residents who lived below me. "Look - enough is enough - will you kindly
stop trundling your damned Croquet balls around at night."