Холли Вебб - The Brave Kitten

“He’s putting weight on his bad leg a bit more now. Before he was sort of hopping, as if he was trying not to put it down to the ground. He’s got another two and a half weeks, and then hopefully he can have the plaster taken off. Oh, please can you pass me the sugar?”

The two girls were making cat-shaped biscuits to sell at the Funniest Pet Show. Mr Brown, the head teacher, had said it was a great idea, very creative. He’d told them to go ahead and arrange the show for Friday when he’d be able to judge.

“Did you send in a video of Caramel with his plaster on?” Katie asked. “I’ve done Charlie – he was brilliant. The skateboard went out from under his paws and he just sort of stared at it as if he didn’t understand what had happened.”

“Yes, I sent it, but I don’t think he’ll win,” Katie said, shaking her head. “Some of the others are so funny. Bella’s cat trying to drink out of the taps in the washbasin is the best, I reckon. It’s the way she turns her head upside down, and then shakes all the water off her whiskers. It makes me laugh every time.”

Helena and some of the others in her class had been watching all the videos with their teacher during break and lunch to find the best ones that would be in the show – they’d meant to put them all in, but there were so many, there wasn’t time to let everyone watch them all. They had already made more than eighty pounds, just from people paying a pound to send in a video. Then they were selling tickets for the show, and everyone in the class was supposed to be bringing some cakes or biscuits in to sell, too.

“We should have got orangey-gold icing for the eyes on these biscuits,” Katie said, peering down at Caramel, who’d gone to sit in his basket under the counter, since they clearly weren’t going to feed him anything. “I hadn’t noticed before what a lovely colour his eyes are.”

“I know,” Helena agreed proudly. “Mum and I talked about doing the eyes gold when we made the shopping list, but we decided green ones were more usual. Caramel’s just extra-specially beautiful.”

“He looks like he’s sulking,” Katie said. “Is he OK? He’s got his nose tucked away inside his basket.”

Helena looked down under the counter and sighed. “I think that now he’s walking better, it’s making him cross being shut in the kitchen. Every time we open the kitchen door, he’s there, trying to slip round our legs. He never scratches or bites, but you can tell he’s annoyed. His ears go all flat, and his tail’s twitchy. He wants to go and explore.”

“Couldn’t you let him out?” Katie asked. “Why does he have to stay in the kitchen?”

“Molly – that’s the vet – she said that if he tried to climb or jump he could jar his broken leg and stop it healing. Even if it was just trying to climb the stairs, he might trip and fall because of the plaster. There’s nowhere in the kitchen that he can reach to jump up to, but there’s enough space for him to exercise his leg muscles. Otherwise his leg’s going to go all thin and weak inside the plaster.”

“Oh, I see.” Katie nodded. “That’s sensible.”

“Mmmm, Caramel doesn’t think so, though. He thinks we’re just being mean.” Helena sighed. “Little grumpy-face,” she told Caramel lovingly.

Caramel heard her, and looked up. He gazed at her for a moment and then yawned hugely, showing all his teeth and his bright pink tongue.

Helena giggled. “See? That’s what he thinks of us…”

Caramel sat by the back door, his nose pressed against the narrow crack between the door and the frame. There was something out in the garden, he was sure. He could hear it – a bird, perhaps, tapping and twittering around on the little stone patio. He ached to be out there, too, smelling the smells, chasing the birds. Just feeling the air ruffling up his fur. He hated being an inside cat.

He paced up and down beside the door for a few moments, letting out a frustrated mew. His leg was so much better now. It felt stronger. He was sure he could even climb a tree, if only they would let him out. Or maybe scramble up on to the top of a fence, just to get a good look around. He wanted to see what the outside was like round here. He was so sick of being shut up indoors.

His ears twitched as he caught a sound from the front of the house – footsteps on the path, and now scratching as someone fiddled with the front door. Helena was back!

No. His shoulders sagged a little. It wasn’t the right time. It would be that other lady come to check on him.

“Hello, Caramel…” Gran was squeezing carefully round the door, making sure not to let him dart out. “How are you, darling? Want some of these nice little biscuit things?”

She brought a packet out of her handbag, and Caramel sniffed as she pulled it open, and the delicious smell wafted around. But somehow, it just wasn’t very exciting. Not nearly as good as the fresh air smell through the back door. It was starting to rain now. He could smell the wet pavement smell, and hear the heavy fat drops pattering down on the stone. He wanted to be out in it. Not for long – just enough to feel the freshness, and then dash back in and lick off all the water. It would be so good…

“Oh, it’s raining! And I didn’t bring an umbrella – what a nuisance.” Gran was staring out of the window, looking irritated. “And look, Caramel, they’ve got washing out! Well, that’s going to get soaked. And there’s Helena’s school jumper. I wonder if she needs that for tomorrow… Drat it, I’ll have to go and bring it all in.”

She put down her bag on the counter, and hurried to the door, jingling the keys as she unlocked it.

Caramel hadn’t understood what she was saying about the washing, of course, but he knew what the sound of the keys meant. She was letting him out! He stood by her feet, his tail twitching excitedly, and his whiskers fanned and bristling. Out! After all this time! As the door opened, he darted round Gran’s feet, his caramel fur brushing against her legs, and hopped down the little step on to the patio.

Gran was thinking about the washing, not about Caramel, and so she didn’t realize what had happened until it was too late. “Oh! Oh, no! You’re not supposed to go out! Oh, my goodness, how stupid of me…” She abandoned the washing and went after the cat. “Caramel! Come on… Caramel… Puss, puss…”

But Caramel was sniffing at the flower pots and twitching delightedly at the feel of the rain on his fur. He could smell other cats, which was interesting, and dangerous, and exciting. And perhaps a dog, close by, and there was a beetle walking along in front of his nose… Everything was good…

“Come here, Caramel, come on, you’ll hurt yourself…” Gran reached down and tried to grab him, but Caramel skittered out of reach, his cast knocking on the stone paving, and throwing him off balance.