Sophie Pembroke - Lara The Runaway Cat - One cat’s journey to discover home is where the heart is

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First published by HarperCollins Publishers 2019

FIRST EDITION

© Dion Leonard 2019

Cover layout design by Claire Ward © HarperCollins Publishers

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Source ISBN: 9780008316181

Ebook Edition © February 2019 ISBN: 9780008316280

Version: 2019-01-09

This book is dedicated to cats and their human slaves all around the world.

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Acknowledgements

About the Publisher

Humans are fickle. And easily led. At least, that’s my experience.

Picture, if you will, a perfect specimen of cat-kind. A beautiful Ragdoll cat, with dark face and paws and fluffy white fur all over. An intelligent, stylish cat who looks after your house, keeps your knees warm at night, has refined tastes, hardly ever wanders or gets lost, and generally adds a sense of elegance to your life.

That’s me: Lara.

Now, picture a stray dog, picked up in the Chinese desert, with ears that point almost directly outwards for goodness’ sake, who scampers along with you, wins her way into your heart then manages to get completely lost, resulting in you having to go back to China to search for her. Then imagine that you want to bring the dog home to Britain with you, but that means you have to live in another country away from your perfect cat – and your wife, actually – for months on end because of some rules about animal travel. Basically, imagine a scruffy dog that causes all sorts of trouble by having adventures .

That’s Gobi. My new sister pet, ever since Dad arrived home with her, 18 months ago.

I mean, really! Which would you prefer? It’s an easy choice, right?

Apparently not so easy as you’d think.

Ever since Dad brought Gobi into our lives it has been constant chaos.

I don’t like chaos, I like prawns for supper and quiet, predictable days.

Before Gobi came, all of my days were quiet and predictable. Ever since Mum and Dad brought me home as a kitten, from where I was born in Lancashire, more than 10 years ago now, my days have followed a pattern. Breakfast, cuddles, watching the world go by through the window, lunch, nap, play, more world-watching at my window, dinner, helping Dad watch TV by offering a constant commentary, supper, then sleep. And maybe middle-of-the-night snuggles if I felt them necessary (whatever Mum and Dad’s feelings on the subject).

There was the odd bit of variety, I suppose, but all of it familiar. Comfortable.

For instance, sometimes, if I was feeling energetic, for a while I might chase a ball or my catnip toy – elegantly, of course – or a moth. And if I felt the need for an adventure, it was easy to follow Mum and Dad into the garden to smell the flowers and chew the grass.

In fact, the biggest adventure I ever had was the time I hid under the house (because squeezing into small places is fun, right?). I thought it was a game, but apparently it took Mum and Dad a while to catch on. Even then, it turns out they’re rubbish at hide and seek because they could not find me. I could hear them calling, but they never even got anywhere close.

(Then I discovered – too late – that I was a bit stuck, and I had to meow really loudly to call them to me. It was dark and cold and I was hungry and lonely. I do not recommend it as a fun game for all the family.)

The point is, I never even dreamed about going any further than under the house. Why would I need to, when everything I wanted was right here at home?

But that was before Gobi.

The thing about Gobi is, everyone thinks she’s fantastic. Special. A miracle of dog-kind.

(I think it’s because of the book all about her. People think if you’ve had a book written about you, you’re important. But of course, Dad wrote that book, not Gobi. If Gobi had actually written the book, maybe I’d have been more impressed.)

I’m not denying that Gobi has led a more varied life – more adventures, more trouble, more chaos.

I mean, yes, she ran through the Gobi Desert with Dad when he was doing his ultramarathon there, a few years ago. I suppose that takes some sort of talent. Dad’s always talking about the training it takes, the physical and mental strength, that sort of thing. And I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t want to do it. So, okay, we can give Gobi some sort of credit for running long distances.

And yes, okay, she also survived getting lost in China, after the race was done, before Dad could bring her home. Mum and Dad were so, so worried about her. Nobody knew where she was or what had happened to her. Of course, at that point, Mum and I hadn’t met her, we’d only seen photos, but somehow it already felt like we knew her. Some people say she ran away, but I know the truth, even if Gobi doesn’t like to talk about it. Somehow she kept herself alive until Dad could find her again.

That’s how Gobi got famous – when Mum and Dad started a campaign on the Internet to find her and bring her home. It worked, sort of, even if she couldn’t come home immediately because of some stupid rule about where and when pets can travel. Still, I suppose Dad wouldn’t have spent all those months in China with her if she wasn’t a bit important. Or been so excited when they were finally allowed to come home and we were suddenly a family of four, instead of three.

Lots of other people were excited too, it seems, as many of them wrote to tell us how happy they were for us.

Really? Fan mail? For a dog ? She can’t even read!

(Neither can I, yet, but I imagine it’s only a matter of time before that skill comes to me. Most things do – I’m a very accomplished cat.)

The worst part about having Gobi in our lives isn’t the fans, though. The worst part is Mum and Dad: they adore Gobi.