Шейла Нортон - Charlie The Kitten Who Saved A Life

There was a silence.

‘You’re surely not going to tell me you can catch seagulls?’ I said in disbelief. ‘They’re huge! And scary!’

‘Sadly, that’s something even we wouldn’t attempt,’ Big said. ‘But chasing them away? We haven’t tried that yet. What do you think, boys? Might be a bit of fun!’

‘Are you mad?’ I said. ‘They’ve got those massive great beaks. They’ll turn on you and take a bite out of your faces!’

‘Not if we all charge at them together,’ Stinky said. ‘We’re quite a force, when we work as a team, Charlie.’

‘I know,’ I said, giving my wounded paw a little lick. ‘Tell me about it. But seagulls ? Really?’

‘Worth a try, isn’t it?’ Black said. ‘If it means the humans around here would leave us alone and stop throwing things at us.’

‘Right, that’s settled,’ said Big. ‘We’ll get up a bit earlier than usual tomorrow, boys, and see what we can do. You can watch, Charlie. Don’t get me wrong, I know you’re a lot tougher than you look, after the way you came back for me the other day. But you’re still injured. You might be able to help when that leg heals up, but meanwhile just watch and learn.’

Despite my constant worries about finding Caroline and my futile attempts to find the holiday cottage, I must admit I fell asleep that night feeling ever so slightly proud of myself. I was learning to scavenge. I was learning to steal fish. I was going to learn to chase seagulls. I was tough, I was brave – I was surviving. For a minute I’d almost forgotten I didn’t want to become like the ferals.

Over the next couple of days, between continuing the search for my holiday home and practising chasing seagulls, our little gang was kept busy. To begin with, they only chased one solitary gull at a time, picking them when they were engrossed in feeding on something dropped on the pavement, or strutting towards humans eating on the beach. It was satisfying to see the look of alarm in their beady eyes as they took off, shouting at us crossly. Gradually they progressed to chasing off three or four at a time, and by then I was so caught up in the excitement, I couldn’t resist joining in. The five of us would rush them at once, and so far we’d escaped any injuries so we were beginning to feel invincible. Inevitably, though, there came the time when, occupied with chasing off two fat gulls coming in to land on the beach, we didn’t notice one of their friends running up behind us. Flapping his huge wings, he forced poor Stinky to the ground and began pecking him viciously.

‘Get off me!’ he screamed, trying in vain to fight back with his claws and teeth.

Within seconds the rest of us were rushing at the gull, who gave one disgusted ‘Caw’ and took off to follow his friends.

‘Are you OK, Stinky?’ I asked. I was secretly pretty pleased with myself for joining in with his rescue without a second thought for my own safety, despite my injured leg. I was becoming braver and more heroic by the day!

‘Just a few scratches,’ he said, getting to his paws.

But after we’d all calmed down, I noticed him wiping blood from his head and licking a sore area of his flank where the fur had been pulled out.

‘I’ll kill that seagull for you if he comes near us again,’ I told him.

‘Nice thought, Charlie, boy,’ he said. ‘But it’d take more than one of you.’

If nothing else, the incident had reminded us all about the wisdom of keeping very close together.

Normally we’d make ourselves scarce as soon as we’d got rid of the gulls, before any humans on the beach could pay too much attention to us, as the other boys still had an instinctive distrust of them. But on a couple of occasions, as we darted back out of sight behind a rocky outcrop where we could lie in wait, there was a burst of noise from various humans who’d been watching us.

‘What’s that?’ Tail-less asked nervously the first time it happened.

‘They’re cheering,’ I said. ‘And clapping – banging their front paws together. They do it when they’re pleased.’

‘Really?’ said Big. ‘I thought they sounded fierce.’

‘No. They’re telling us we did a good job.’ I looked around at the others. ‘See? It’s just as we hoped. The humans are on our side when it comes to chasing the seagulls away from their picnics.’

This seemed to spur my friends on. It was as if we were on a mission: every time we saw a gull anywhere near humans, or looking as if it was going to start helping itself to human food, we scared it away.

‘Let’s hope those pesky gulls get the message in the end,’ Stinky said. ‘We don’t want them on our patch.’

And so it was that for the remainder of my time with the ferals, we dispersed more seagulls from the town than any cats anywhere could ever have done before. We were strong, we were powerful, we were fearless and undefeatable. Before long, we could see we were really making a difference, starting to keep the area free of scavenging seagulls and pleasing the human population, who on the whole were becoming kinder towards us.

I was particularly aware of this because of listening to the conversations of the two females called Jean and Shirley. Unknown to Big – who would definitely have tried to stop me – I’d started hanging around the café where they seemed to meet every day. They’d noticed me outside the fence again, and had called out hello to me in such friendly voices, I knew they were kind humans who wouldn’t hurt me. I was desperate for some human affection, and I knew Big wouldn’t understand. So I waited until he was having a nap, and went back to the café on my own. This time when Jean noticed me and said ‘Here he is again! Hello, little tabby cat. You’re a friendly one, aren’t you?’ – I scampered up to her and wound myself around her legs.

‘Ah, he’s really quite tame,’ Shirley crooned, reaching down to stroke me. ‘And he only looks young, Jean, not much more than a kitten. Perhaps he isn’t a feral after all.’

‘But look at the state of him. He’s definitely been fighting – and his coat’s in a terrible state. Poor little thing. How come you’re so friendly?’ Jean added, as I started to purr with the contentment of being stroked.

‘Because I’m not feral! I’m a pet, and I’m lost,’ I meowed, rubbing my head against her hand.

‘Perhaps he’s actually a lost pet,’ Shirley said, as if I hadn’t just been telling her that.

‘I don’t know,’ Jean said, looking at me doubtfully. ‘If he is, I reckon he’s been living rough for most of his life.’

‘Someone must be feeding him, then, unless he’s just hunting mice and birds.’

‘Or else he’s living on scraps, like all the other ferals – and helping to keep those dratted gulls away,’ Jean said, and then she laughed, and added, ‘although I can’t imagine this little chap chasing a seagull like the others have been doing, can you, Shirley?’

I felt a bit offended, then. Little did they know, I was getting as good at it as any of them! Anyway I didn’t hang around for much longer – I was too worried that Big would wake up and come looking for me, and I could just imagine how he’d feel about me not only fraternising with strange humans, but letting them stroke me. But I felt a bit better for having made friends with them, and I was determined to come back again whenever I could. It was, after all, how I got information for the other boys about what humans were saying. And, eventually, it was how I came to be taken home to my family. But that’s another story, and I can see there are some small kittens among you getting sleepy. So I think we should probably say goodnight for now, and I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow.