Шейла Нортон - Charlie The Kitten Who Saved A Life

‘ Your humans? ’ he repeated, looking at me as if I’d spoken in Dog or Cow or something. ‘You have your own pet humans?’

I might be a bit slow, but it was actually only then that the truth dawned on me. These guys were the real deal – the alley cats we’ve all been warned to stay away from, the ones our mothers told us scary stories about before we could even walk. Ferals. The very word strikes fear into the heart of a cosseted domestic cat. Yes, I’m not surprised you’ve all frozen in terror.

‘Um, yes,’ I squawked, starting to back away.

‘And is it true that they let you live in their houses?’ he asked, staring at me now with wide eyes. ‘And feed you, and give you funny names? Don’t run away, I’m not going to hurt you anymore. I want to know all about it. Gather round, boys. This young tabby lives with humans! Have they given you a funny name? What is it?’

‘Charlie,’ I meowed quietly. They all stared at me in stunned silence.

‘ Charlie ,’ the tortie repeated. ‘Blimey whiskers. It makes you sound … like a human.’

‘So what’s your name?’ I asked timidly.

‘Name?’ he retorted. ‘We don’t have names! Why would we want fancy names?’

‘So you could call to each other?’ I suggested.

‘Oh, that! We just call each other what we are . Like: he’s black. He’s tail-less. And him over there, he’s stinky.’

‘Oh, I see.’ As far as I was concerned, they were all pretty stinky. But I didn’t think it’d be wise to mention that, at this point. ‘So what are you ?’

‘Big, of course,’ he said, stretching himself up to his full height. ‘That’s why I’m in charge.’

‘Right.’ And I couldn’t help it. Despite everything, I couldn’t ignore my upbringing, you see. It was only polite to say, rubbing my face against his: ‘Well, I’m pleased to meet you, Big.’

‘You too, um, Charlie ,’ he said, seeming to have difficulty with the pronunciation. ‘And if you’re lost, I suppose you’d better stick with us. At least till you find your pet humans again, eh? You won’t last long in this area without us to protect you.’

Well, that’d certainly be an improvement on having them beating the poo out of me.

‘Right, OK, thank you. You live around here, do you?’ I added, as we didn’t appear to be hurrying off home anywhere.

‘Born and bred in this yard,’ Big said proudly. ‘All the boys were. The whole of this area – the yard and the alleyways off it – is our territory. Humans don’t like us, of course, apart from the odd one or two who seem to feel sorry for us and bring us food occasionally.’

‘So you have to hunt every day, I suppose?’ I stared around me. There didn’t seem to be any bushes or trees or even grass around. ‘Just mice and rats, is it?’

‘And fish, if we can get it,’ said Black, who’d been creeping closer to get in on the conversation.

‘Yeah, the humans go out in their boats every morning and come back with loads of them,’ Big explained. ‘We take it in turns to creep up and try to nick a fish or two without them seeing us. Most of them shout at us or kick us if they catch us at it, but sometimes there’s a tame human who actually gives us a fish.’

‘Not often, though,’ Stinky complained. ‘You’d think they’d share, wouldn’t you – I can’t see why they need so many fish just for themselves.’

‘Greedy,’ said Big. ‘That’s their trouble.’

I yawned. It was fascinating, now everyone had calmed down, to hear about the ferals’ lifestyle, but I’m sure you’ll agree I’d had a tiring day one way or another, and it must have been the middle of the night by now. I looked around me, puzzled.

‘Where are your beds?’

‘ Beds? ’ They all stared at me. ‘Are you being funny?’

‘No. Sorry, why?’

‘We sleep here, in the yard, Charlie . In corners, behind walls, in doorways, or down one of the alleyways. Sometimes in summer we sleep on the roof tops,’ Big said. ‘I’ll find you a little place near me, when it’s sleep time.’

‘Isn’t it sleep time yet, then?’ I asked, stifling another yawn. I’d always thought any time was sleep time for cats!

‘No, it’s scavenging time, for catnip’s sake,’ he said, looking exasperated. ‘Don’t you know anything?’

Evidently not. I didn’t even know what scavenging was, but I wasn’t about to admit it.

‘It’s how we get most of our food nowadays,’ Tail-less kindly explained, seeing my blank look. ‘Humans make it easy for us, they’re so lazy and untidy. They feed in the street, don’t finish their food, and throw what’s left over in bins. But sometimes they just drop it on the ground instead. And also the bins get full up, and overflow, so there’s always plenty for us. The best places are outside their eating houses. Cafés , they call them,’ he added, as if I didn’t know. ‘And the ones they call fish and chip shops – they’re the best. And takeaways. ’

The others were all meowing agreement.

‘Come on, then, let’s go,’ Stinky urged. ‘I’m starving.’

So was I, now he came to mention it.

‘You’d better come with us,’ said Big. ‘Seems like you need an education.’

And with that, he led the way back out of the yard. I watched them moving off for a minute. I was so tired, and so sore from my wounds, that getting an education wasn’t exactly uppermost in my mind. But what else could I do? As he’d pointed out, it seemed I’d be in danger around here if I didn’t stick with them.

‘Why can’t we go in the morning?’ I called out, in one last attempt to get time for a nap.

They all turned round and stared at me again. I was getting used to it.

‘In the morning ?’ squawked Black. ‘Don’t be ridiculous!’

‘We can’t scavenge humans’ waste food during the daytime,’ Big explained patiently, as if I was a particularly dim little kitten. ‘That’s when the seagulls are out in force.’

‘Oh. Yes, I’ve seen some of them around. They’re not very nice, are they?’

‘ Not very nice! ’ Tail-less mimicked. ‘What an understatement, eh, boys? They’re thieving, spiteful, vicious hoodlums, that’s what they are,’ he added in a hiss. ‘We hate them, and they hate us. They’ve been known to kill cats, you know.’

That’s rich coming from you lot! I wanted to meow, knowing how close they’d come to killing this particular cat themselves. But I thought better of it, since I’d apparently now been adopted as their slightly odd posh friend.

‘I can well believe it,’ I said instead, limping after them. ‘One of them bit my human kitten’s finger.’

‘It probably deserved it,’ Big said dismissively. ‘But that’s not the point. We don’t go anywhere near the bins when they’re awake, right? We wait till the eating houses are closed for the night, then we go and get as many scraps as we can before the gulls wake up.’

‘It’s bad enough risking life and paw when the fishing boats come in,’ Stinky told me. ‘The gulls follow the boats back in from the sea – loads of them, all swarming together and shouting their heads off. If we want to try sneaking a fish when they’re unloaded, we have to be very quick and very crafty.’

‘One of us makes a run for the fish, while the others watch out for gulls and try to protect him,’ Big explained.

It sounded so dangerous, I wondered why they bothered, instead of just hunting for easy prey like mice. But then I remembered how delicious a mouthful of lovely fresh fish tasted, and my mouth started to water. I was weak with hunger. I’d have to take my lessons from these boys, whether I liked it or not.