A Face At The Window

Today I'm sorting lists, paying bills and making plans at the kitchen table.
I like to do this in silence.
Well silence , save for the loud ticking of the kitchen wall clock and the snoring of the bulldogs.
I always face my art wall when I work like this
I don't like looking at the lane window, especially at night.
The lane window, used to be the kitchen door which opened up straight on the lane.
I don't like the thought that people can look in directly from the road.

Last night I was arranging paperwork on the table and had just started a satisfying " to do " list on my right. (I was using my Christmas pens too which pleased me ) when I saw Dorothy raise her head from the reading chair to look at something just beyond my shoulder.
She was silent but her hackles were raised.
A gentle tap-tap at the window made her sit up sharply  and brought Mary yapping loudly in from the living room.
A man's face white was pressed up at the window as I turned around, he was mouthing words I couldn't understand

"Shit a brick!" Was all I could say
One of my pet fears is faces at windows at night.

I composed myself and pointed up the lane and went out to the kitchen wall, flanked by all three dogs in their stiff legged defence pose
" I think your cat is in my car" the man said with a worried face " he has quite a temper on him" 
It turned out that the man had stopped outside the church to drop off a Christmas wreath and had left his car door open in order to empty the car's rubbish into the Church's bins which are tucked away behind the lytch gate.
Ever nosey, Albert had appeared from nowhere and had jumped into the driver's seat then hopped into the back seat for a good sniff around . He was sitting rather angrily on the back window ledge when the man caught sight of him in his rear mirror as he returned.
Albert has a permanent look of surprise which is often mistaken for temper and wouldn't be moved even when the man had prodded him carefully with a plastic snow scraper 
" He scared the shit out of me, sitting there like a black panther " the man admitted and when we got to the car, Albert was indeed sat in the back of the car, whipping his tail back and forth in anger.
" I asked in those houses who he belonged to and was told it was you" the man said
The car was only a two door sporty number  and that's why Albert had not moved to escape and so it took a bit of arse squeezing on my part to get beyond the front seats in order to get a firm scruff hold.
The old boy eventually came quietly with his legs dangling
The man stepped back as I brought Albert into the open air
" Im glad I saw him when I did." He said " I live in Blacon "[outside Chester ( some thirty miles away)]

These animals will be the death of me