Шейла Нортон - Charlie The Kitten Who Saved A Life

‘Tell you what,’ the boy said. ‘Shall I put a picture of him on Twitter?’

‘Bloody Twitter, leave off about it for God’s sake. You’re never off your bloomin’ phone doing your cheeps and whatnot when you’re supposed to be washing up.’

‘Tweets, Auntie Stella!’ he said, laughing. ‘Tweets, not cheeps.’ He held his phone up in front of me and pressed something on it. ‘Look this way, little cat,’ he called. ‘That’s it.’ He pressed again. ‘Good one. Right, I’ll just share this on Twitter – and on Instagram and WhatsApp, while I’m about it. I’ll say he’s a lost kitten—’

‘I don’t know what the hell you’re on about, bloomin’ What’s Up ,’ Stella grumbled. ‘How’s a picture of him on your phone supposed to help?’

‘Oh, Auntie, you’re, like, so old school,’ he said, laughing again. ‘The picture goes all over the world! Everyone who sees it can share it with other people and thousands of people will end up looking at him. Someone’s bound to recognise him. That’s how these things work, see?’

Needless to say, I didn’t understand what he meant, any more than Stella seemed to. Caroline had sometimes done that thing before, holding up her dad’s or Laura’s phone and saying she was taking a picture of me, but when she showed me the picture of a little cat on the phone later, I couldn’t understand why she thought it was me. It could have been any little tabby, surely.

‘Well, for someone so old school , as you put it,’ Stella was saying now, ‘at least I know the right thing to do with our little furry friend here. I’m going to take him to the vet up the road, and they can scan him with their scanner thing to find out whether he’s got an identity chip.’

If the boy responded to this, I wasn’t there to hear it. As you can probably imagine, as soon as I heard the word vet , I’d yowled in fright and jumped out of Stella’s arms. And by the time she’d finished her sentence I was on my way out of the door. Pity. I’d been enjoying her company up till then.

*

I started off running back past the beach huts and past the bench where I’d slept the previous night. Then the pathway ran out, and I plunged into an area of little soft sandy hills with tufts of horrible stiff grass, and spiteful prickly bushes growing on them. It was difficult to run, and I didn’t like the feel of the sand – I had to keep stopping and shaking my paws. Yes, it was a bit like when you walk on snow, Smudge, but it was hot instead of cold, and had a gritty feel to it. Sometimes I felt like I was going to sink. But I was too scared to turn back now, in case the Stella woman was coming after me to take me to the vet. It was slow going, and seemed to go on forever. Despite feeling a bit stronger thanks to my delicious meal, I was getting tired from the effort of running on such difficult ground. After a while, I obviously had to stop for a cat nap, so I hid myself behind one of the prickly bushes. I didn’t sleep too well – I had a very vivid dream where I was being attacked by a giant dog with big sharp teeth, and I woke up to find I’d inadvertently wriggled closer to the bush and got scratches on my head and my back. Yelping to myself miserably, I trudged on through the sand, without any idea where I was going. It was only by sheer luck that I caught a tiny little bird who’d been feeding from the prickly bushes. I’d never seen one like him before, and he was barely more than a mouthful by the time I’d dispensed with his feathers. But he kept me going for a little longer.

To my relief, soon after I’d finished my makeshift lunch I noticed a rough path leading up the cliff, away from the sea again. Treading gingerly through an overgrowth of the horrible spiky grass, I followed the path and found to my surprise that it came out on a road. Not only that, but I was pretty sure from my superior feline sense of direction that it was the road where the girls and I had started our journey away from Mudditon-on-Sea the previous night. I was heading home, and by following the coast it had taken me far less time than it took us to make the journey on the road! All I had to do was find the little lane that led to the holiday cottage, and I’d be safe, back with Julian and Laura and baby Jessica and … well, eventually Caroline and Grace, too, once they’d been rescued from the hospital place.

Oh, if only that had been true, my friends! I raced along the road and turned hopefully into the next little lane. I didn’t recognise it, but I was sure that at any moment I’d smell something familiar, preferably my own scent markings from the night before. No such luck. I went from one lane to another, and then into streets that were more built up, with big houses, shops, and lots of humans wandering about looking in the shop windows. I turned this corner and that corner, but it was no good. I was hopelessly lost.

Finally I turned down a narrow road that arrived back by the sea, but instead of the sandy beach thing I’d come to expect, this time there was just a pathway and a sheer drop down into the water. I backed away from the edge, terrified of falling in, as you can probably imagine, and stared at the sea. It wasn’t moving so much here. There were lots of little boats floating on the water – I knew what they were from pictures I’d seen on the television. They seemed to be tied up here to stop them from running away, and they were nudging each other in their sleep, some of them making a jangling noise like the bells on cats’ collars but much louder. There were humans around here too, some of them walking along the edge, others sitting on benches looking out to sea. There was a little café, with a picture of ice creams on a sign outside, and a pub – it looked very similar to the one where you live Oliver, in our village – with a roof made of that thatch stuff, and baskets of flowers hanging by the door.

‘It’s so pretty here, isn’t it,’ I heard a female human say to her male as they walked past. ‘I’m so glad we decided to come to Mudditon again this year.’

So I was right , I thought to myself. I’m back in Mudditon . But it seemed Mudditon was quite a big place, even bigger than Little Broomford, and just my luck, I was in the wrong part, with no idea where the right part was. There was nothing else for it but to find a warm little spot in the sun behind a wall, and have another little sleep. As always, cat logic decreed that I’d feel better afterwards, and even if I didn’t, it’d be easier to cope if I was well rested.

When I woke up, it was dark. I must have had a longer sleep than I intended. For a minute I couldn’t think where I was, or what had woken me up. I lifted my head and pricked up my ears. I could hear something, but more to the point, I could sense something – some kind of threat nearby. You’ll understand what I mean when I say I could feel it in my whiskers. Then the sound came again, and I was up on my paws at once, instantly alert. There was a strange cat somewhere close to me, and whoever it was, he was making the low, rumbling, growly noise in his chest that we all know means only one thing. He wasn’t best pleased to see me.

I waited, still and tense, only my eyes moving, checking all directions. I knew I had the disadvantage. I was a stranger, in someone else’s territory, and I still couldn’t see the other cat. If I ran, I’d only precipitate the attack. But when it came, it still took me by surprise. The skinny black cat jumped out of the shadows and went straight for my throat with his claws, forcing me to the ground.

‘OK, OK,’ I managed to squawk desperately as I wriggled on my back, trying to get free. ‘Sorry. I’ll clear off.’

But that didn’t seem to be enough for him. With his claws still into me, he rolled us both over so that his back paws were kicking me. At the same time he was trying to get a mouthful of my face to sink his teeth into. Obviously not a happy chap at all.