Monty was late for his date. He had met Susy two days ago. He had caught whiff of a biscuit tin whose lid hadn’t been replaced properly: this was a good and rare thing, for the biscuit tin was a special treat. Following his nose through the trail of crumbs, he laid his paws on a garibaldi, and as he began to nibble, he felt a whisker graze his. He looked up. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Dark chocolate eyes and a raspberry pink nose, fur of silk and– well, that tail! He coughed, and spluttered, and– “Hi.” she said. He smiled with quiet relief. They enjoyed their garibaldi together. She had to leave for class, but they arranged to meet again the next evening.

When the hour came, he had spent so long preening his fur, and practising what he was going to say in front of the spoon, that time had got away from him. He was so nervous that his stomach was rumbling. He was hungry, and behind schedule, and needed energy. He hurried across the kitchen floor, then stopped: a morsel caught his eye, a tiny cube of cheese on a wood and wire plate. Very edgy, he thought. Very careless of them to leave that out. But he was hungry, and he needed it, and—

Susy waited outside the baking cupboard, just like they’d agreed. It was getting late now.