Alan MacDonald - Oscar and the CATastrophe

‘Oscar isn’t messy,’ said Sam.

‘Well, only a little,’ laughed Mum. ‘But he is quite clever, sometimes we wonder if he understands what we’re saying.’

‘Heavens! I hope not!’ laughed Mrs Bentley-Wallop.

Carmen wriggled in her arms and she set her down on the floor.

‘It’s all right, princess,’ she cooed. ‘No one’s going to hurt you. Carmen’s a Persian, they’re terribly sensitive.’

Sam didn’t think Carmen looked sensitive. If anything she seemed to be enjoying the fact that Oscar couldn’t get at her. She hid behind her owner’s legs and peeped out now and then, playing a game of peek-a-boo.

‘I’m sure Oscar wouldn’t hurt her,’ said Mum. ‘Perhaps they’ll be friends?’

Carmen dared to venture a little closer. She rubbed her back against her owner’s legs, purring loudly and swishing her long tail. It was almost as if she was daring Oscar to come after her.

Oscar had seen enough. He barked.

‘OSCAR!’ cried Mum.

Mrs Bentley-Wallop scooped up Carmen in her arms and stepped back from the door.

‘Well, perhaps I ought to get on,’ she sighed. ‘It was so sweet of you to pop round. I’m sure we’ll bump into each other again.’

‘Yes, of course . . .’ began Mum – but the door had already closed.

They walked back down the path.

‘Well that didn’t go very well,’ said Mum.

‘I know,’ said Sam. ‘I’m not sure she even likes flapjack. And she called Oscar messy!’

‘We should never have taken him,’ said Mum.

‘It wasn’t his fault!’ protested Sam. ‘Carmen was showing off the whole time.’

‘She’s obviously nervous around dogs,’ said Mum. ‘You’d better keep Oscar away from her or there’s going to be trouble.’

Oscar waited until Mum had gone inside and the door had closed.

‘I warned you,’ he said. ‘I knew I smelled a cat, the worst kind too.’

‘What’s the worst kind?’ asked Sam.

‘The uppity kind,’ replied Oscar.

Sam had never thought of cats as uppity, although it was true you couldn’t tell a cat what to do. Most dogs would happily fetch a stick if you threw one. A cat would just stare at you as if you’d lost your mind.

‘Is she going to stay long?’ asked Oscar.

‘Probably,’ said Sam. ‘But there’s nothing we can do about it. Anyway, what’s so terrible about cats?’

‘If you’re asking that, you don’t know many cats,’ replied Oscar, darkly.

‘Well you heard Mum, you’ll just have to behave or you’ll get us into trouble,’ warned Sam.

Oscar gave him a look.

‘I’m a dog,’ he said. ‘And dogs chase cats – if we didn’t they’d get too uppity.’

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