The Search

"Where do I start?" he pondered. "There's so much ground to cover. So many nooks and crannies. So many places it could be."

"I'll begin my quest in the bedroom - they spend a lot of time in there." he thought, nosing around the furniture, leaving no corner unchecked. "I must find it. It must be here! They've been here all morning - playing, laughing, eating together - I can sense it. There's warmth, energy, freshly-cooked aromas in the air."

The bedroom proved unfruitful so he started down the hall into the lounge room.
"Look at the mess they've left - DVD's and weekend papers everywhere - all of no use to me. They must have left some trace behind!"

As he clawed behind couches and peeked under mats he could'nt help thinking of the situation at hand. "Being left alone to fend for myself and the family - the least she could do is help out a little! Always entertaining and socialising - a different person, different meals every night - never sparing a thought for us."

As he entered the dining room the air felt heavier. "This is where she brings them to drink wine, stuff their faces and drop food all over the floor - filthy they are!" But the dining room was unsuccessful also. Although he could tell they'd been there, they'd left no trace behind.
"Where did I see them last? Where could they have hidden it?" he wracked his brain to think.
"...of course - the kitchen!"

He was close now, he could feel it. The sweet smell of success. "Oh how I wish I could stop thinking of Uncle Paul!" he lamented. His path had taken such a similar turn to Uncle Paul's, but hoped his life was not as ill-fated.

"It always looks like this after they've been here together" he sneered, eyeing the empty glasses, plates and coffee cups strewn about. "This is where I saw them. They were near the bench, laughing, cuddling. Then he had it, in his filthy hands, and he walked..."

"The fridge!" he exclaimed, darting across the room. And there it was, gleaming on the floor, hidden away in the corner behind the fridge. "There's so much dust, so many wires behind here - doesn't she ever clean? Must be very careful...". As he felt his way towards it he was happy. Proud that he had come this far, rested in the thought that he wasn't a failure, he could look after his family, be happy again. The wooden base was sturdy making it easy to pick up, but it was stuck. It was so yellow and juicy and soft, it seemed to catch on something.

"This one's for you Uncle Paul" he pledged, yanking at the cheese with his claws. But in his triumph he didn't hear the click of the latch; he didn't see the flash of the metal; he didn't have time to feel the trap come down on the back of his neck, making this cube of cheese left for him, his very last.