Holly Webb - Sammy the Shy Kitten

“I suppose so…” Emma said, between gasps. “It doesn’t feel like long, though. If he goes to a shelter he’ll be all lost and alone. It’ll be awful.”

“Then you absolutely have to make sure it doesn’t happen,” Keira said firmly. “I’ll see if I can think of anything to help.” She gave Emma one last hug. “Ems, we have to go. Liz is waving at us. She wants us to try those dressage aids today, remember?”

Emma nodded and sniffed hard. “I’m OK. I’m so glad I told you about it, Keira. I do actually feel a bit happier.”

Emma grabbed her riding hat from the back seat and looked anxiously at Auntie Grace’s purple car parked outside their house.

“It’s all right,” Dad said soothingly. “She said she wouldn’t go near Sammy. Although we will have to try and get him used to meeting new people eventually. She’s got something for you.”

Emma hurried down the path, curious to see what Auntie Grace had brought. She had a feeling it was something important – not just a magazine or some chocolate to cheer her up, but something that really mattered.

“Emma! I’m so glad you got back before I had to go to work. Look, I’ve brought you this.” Auntie Grace whirled out of the front door on to the path. “Here. I really hope it helps.”

Emma looked down at the book that her aunt had pressed into her hands – Taming Feral Kittens . There was a gorgeous little ginger kitten on the front of it, with a shy, worried look on his face that made Emma think of Sammy at once.

“I got it at the animal shelter. I thought I’d go and ask them if they had any tips for you. They were so friendly and helpful. This was written by someone who used to work there, and they said to call if you get really stuck. I wrote the number inside the cover for you.” She hugged Emma. “Sweetheart, if Sammy does have to go there, they will look after him, I promise.”

Emma nodded. “But it’s not going to happen,” she said firmly. “This is brilliant, Auntie Grace. I’m going to go and read it now.”

Sammy sat in the doorway of the crate, looking out suspiciously. Everything was different – the crate had been moved down on to the floor, and he didn’t like that, for a start. He preferred to be high up, so he could see who was coming. High up was safe.

But he liked the open door. He thought he did, anyway. He sniffed the air beyond the crate, his whiskers twitching. He could step out, right on to the floor. He could explore. Cautiously, he extended one paw over the door frame, and then the next, and then his two back paws.

He stood nervously just outside the crate, watching, scanning the room. Emma was there, sitting in the corner, and her dad was over by the counter. She wasn’t looking at him – she was gazing off into the distance as if she hadn’t noticed what he was doing. Sammy took a few steps out into the room and sniffed.

Food! He could definitely smell food. He was sure it was well past his usual feeding time. He’d been expecting Emma to bring food, but instead she and her dad had lifted his crate down on to the floor. Determinedly, he stomped across the floor, towards the smell. Emma had his bowl on her lap. He stopped a few steps away from her, looking uncertainly at the bowl. He wasn’t sure he wanted to go any closer, but he was hungry.

His tail swished from side to side, and then he made a panicked little run, flinging himself at the bowl. What if she took it away? Sammy climbed up on Emma’s leg and started to gobble down the food as quickly as he could.

“It’s all right,” Emma murmured. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Sammy’s ears flickered, but he didn’t stop eating. Then he felt her stroking him, very gently running her hand over his shoulders and down his back. It was nice – it felt like his mother licking him. He slowed his eating down a little, almost sure that the bowl wasn’t going to be taken away.

At last, he’d finished the whole bowl. He licked round it carefully and then sniffed it to make sure there wasn’t any more. There wasn’t, but he was full anyway.

Slowly, carefully, he settled down into a crouch on Emma’s lap. She was still stroking him, so gently. Sammy stretched out his paws and kneaded them up and down on Emma’s skirt. Then he closed his eyes and purred.

Emma tucked the phone under her chin so she could talk to Auntie Grace and have both hands free for scrabbling after the ping-pong ball as Sammy sent it skittering around all over the floor.

“It really works,” she told her aunt, a little breathlessly. “We started on Sunday after I’d had time to read the book. All this week, we’ve only fed him with the bowl on me or Dad, so that he has to come to us to get his food. And he’s always hungry, so it works perfectly. The very first time we tried it, he let me stroke him and he even purred! I’m starting to think he actually does like me,” she added shyly.

“Of course he does. Oh, that’s wonderful, Emma! I felt awful when your mum said you might have to give him up.”

“Me, too. But I’m so hoping she’s going to let me keep him. She was laughing at him this morning, when he was playing with his feathery toy before school. He kept almost falling over backwards, he was trying so hard to catch it.” Emma threw the ping-pong ball again for Sammy. “We’re doing the next thing it says in the book now. He’s going to be allowed out in the kitchen all the time, not just for food time and playing. His bed and his litter tray are still in the crate, but we’ll leave it open so he can come and go when he wants to.”

“And then I suppose you’ll bring his bed out, and eventually get rid of the crate?”

“Exactly. I don’t know how long it’s going to take, though. The book says it depends on the kitten. Oh, Sammy!”

“What did he do?” Auntie Grace laughed at the other end of the line.

“He chased after the ball so fast he ran into the cupboard. He’s fine, he just looks a bit confused. One minute.” Emma laid the phone on the floor and wriggled closer to Sammy, murmuring comforting noises. She was sure that he looked embarrassed, if a kitten could. His ears had gone flat.

“It’s OK,” she whispered and without thinking about it, she scooped Sammy gently into her hands and snuggled him up against her cardigan. “Oh… I didn’t mean to…” It was the first time she’d ever picked him up. But Sammy hadn’t clawed her, or jumped away in fright. He was huddled against her, so tiny and fragile that she could feel his heart beating under her fingers. “You don’t mind?” she murmured. “Oh, Sammy, I do love you…”

“Hey…” Dad whispered from the doorway. “He looks happy!”

“Dad, can you pick up the phone?” Emma whispered. “I was talking to Auntie Grace. She must be wondering what happened to me. Can you tell her I’ll call her later?”

Dad chuckled. “Sure. I’ll tell her you’re occupied with some very important business.”