Кейт Мур: Full Steam Ahead, Felix

Felix was so very happy to see Jean back at work – especially now that Jean’s arms were much improved. She was back at work on a phased return, as she was not yet strong enough to work full-time; she was fond of joking that she got Wednesdays off for good behaviour! In Felix’s opinion, however, she was definitely strong enough for her most important duty: giving Felix some love. As the station cat stretched out on her radiator bed, Jean would indulge her with lots of long strokes and tummy-rubbing tickles. Whenever it was time for Jean to go, Felix would watch her all the way to the door, as though worried that if she took her eyes off her, she might vanish again. Jean made sure to spend more time with her as the autumn pressed on, wanting Felix to know that she hadn’t been forgotten.

That could never happen. Angie Hunte still affectionately called Felix her ‘baby girl’ and Angela Dunn was still her devoted lady-in-waiting. They still regularly petted Felix and gave her cuddles and cared deeply for her. The thing about love is, it expands. It is infinite. The Angelas, and indeed all the team, still adored Felix – but now they also loved Bolt too.

And as the team spent more and more time with Bolt, he continued to endear himself to them. He draped himself like a scarf round Angela’s neck; he sat on Angie’s shoulder like a parrot.

‘Bolt, how am I going to get any work done?’ Angie asked him, loving every minute.

Bolt’s answer … was to get involved with the work! He developed a penchant for ‘helping’ with paperwork, especially cashing up. Sad to say, however, the newest member of the team had a bit of a light-fingered touch. When the team leaders did their banking at night, they kept on finding, after they’d counted up all the cash, that they were consistently short – a five-pound note here, a twenty-pound note there. It turned out that the apprentice was nicking the notes and running off to play with them!

The cat burglar was fond, too, of stealing food. He was honest at least in the sense that he would never beg for his dinner if he had already been fed (unlike his boss, who still tried to persuade the person who’d fed her not ten minutes earlier that they were sorely mistaken). Then again, there was little need for Bolt to wheel out the amateur dramatics when he was such an effective pickpocket. The team kept discovering that things were going missing from the office. He nicked Jacqui’s bag of nuts one night and, on another occasion, he stole Angie’s chicken supper. They became smarter to stop him, not wanting Bolt to end up with the same weight problems that Felix was facing.

That possible eventuality was also easier to avert because Bolt’s food was more tightly controlled than Felix’s had ever been. It had been a free-for-all when Felix had first arrived at the station, with everyone mucking in – and therefore everyone giving her treats – but Bolt was very much Angie and Jacqui’s boy and nobody fed him but the team leaders. Bolt, in fact, had a few tummy problems early on in his life that had required medicine, so Jacqui was strict in saying that he could not have any cat food other than the one that agreed with him, and no treats whatsoever.

Bolt didn’t seem to miss them – and why would he, when he had such a marvellous playground to fool around in? His treats were the rolled-up balls of paper he could chase around the office for hours, or the multicoloured mouse with a bell on its tail that would tinkle as he hunted it down. (Bolt had lots of toys – some of them gifts from the senior pest controller’s fans.) He had so much energy, he was always pouncing and rolling and leaping and striking at the innumerable objects he designated prey.

Observing him from a cool distance, Felix probably thought that his technique left a little to be desired. She could certainly have taught him a thing or two – had the cats been on speaking terms. For a start, he had no subtlety. Bolt would barrel down the corridor in a tangle of long limbs. He was easily distracted, switching prey the moment a new sound rang out or a sudden movement caught his eye. When he returned to his original target, he seemed to blame the object itself for his forgetfulness, as though it had conned him, and he would then attack it with renewed vigour. And while he undoubtedly had speed, he had no skill. Rather than quietly stalking his toys, he would run faster and faster towards them as he ‘attacked’ and the thundering of his paws would have had any real-life pest alert and away in an instant. Felix, slinking off after this poor display, almost rolling her eyes, tried to show him through her lazy grace how a grown-up should behave – but Bolt’s attention had already been diverted.

Just as their size differences had been striking early on, as time passed and the kitten grew more active, the contrast in the two cats’ movement was also noted. Felix was luxuriously slow-moving: a matronly lady dispassionately wandering through the world. Bolt, however, didn’t seem to know who he was: a tiny tiger, a slithering snake, a jumping jack, a frog. He tried every trick in the book as he played, his battles with his toys often looking like ill-managed stage fights: a right hook here, a sliding tackle there. While Felix stared on from the sidelines, sensible and sedentary, Bolt skidded madly up and down the corridor, never once seeming to tire.

Of course, he did eventually. Then he would crash out – in his comfy brown bed, in the shower room, on a padded chair in the team leaders’ room or even in the station manager’s office. (Andy travelled regularly, as he also managed other stations on the network, so his office was often quiet and dark: the perfect place for a catnap.) When Bolt slept, he slept deeply, recharging his batteries. The team were amused to witness that he would stretch out in bed with the same confidence he always demonstrated while conscious, taking up more room than his little body seemed to warrant, dominating the space. As soon as he awoke, he’d be off again, getting into everything and generally proving himself to be rather a handful.

Oh, he was adorable – but it did make it hard for Angie Hunte to get her work done. One Sunday afternoon, about a month after Bolt had arrived at the station, she reached the end of her tether.

‘Right, you, come on,’ she said to the little kitten. She reached for her handbag – Bolt, for once, had not climbed into it when she wasn’t looking – and pulled out her iPad, the diversionary tactic of all parents ever since the digital revolution. She quickly scrolled through her movies, pressed play on one and set up the iPad so that Bolt could see it.

On the screen, 101 black-and-white puppies ran across the room, barking and yapping wildly. ‘Just watch this,’ Angie told him patiently, ‘and let me get on with my work.’

Of course she didn’t. How could she – when Bolt’s reaction to the film was so damn cute? It seemed he was a fan of 101 Dalmations . His large ears pricked up straight away and he scooted forward till he was next to the screen. He even touched it with his paw!

It seemed Bolt was touching everything with his paws these days – and that included Felix. Perhaps he had been biding his time by cowering when he’d first met her. While he was still a fraction of her size, he’d got cocky enough to play a game with her, so now he started to test and tease her. If Felix was lying in the corridor of an afternoon, lazily fanning herself with her long fluffy tail, Bolt would become intent on getting at her. To him, that moving tail seemed the most glorious toy. Surely it was meant for him to hunt? He watched it as she flicked it uuuuuup and dooooown. Bolt was still learning how to use his tail and he stared at Felix’s with absolute fascination. He thought she was teasing him. It wasn’t long before the excited kitten started patting at her tail with a well-aimed paw, prodding and poking her whenever he was close.