Charlie the Kitten Who Saved a Life

Contents

Cover

About the Book

About the Author

Title Page

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

Chapter Twenty Three

Acknowledgements

Read on for an extract from The Vets at Hope Green

Copyright

About the Book

Charlie the kitten would do anything for his human. Just having recovered from a debilitating illness, eleven-year-old Caroline isn’t feeling her best, and the arrival of a new baby only makes her feel even more left out.

So when Caroline decides to run away, Charlie follows, vowing to protect her at all costs. But, for such a little kitten, it’s a big and scary world outside the comfort of the cottage – how far will he go to save his greatest friend?

About the Author

Sheila Norton lives near Chelmsford in Essex with her husband, and worked for most of her life as a medical secretary, before retiring early to concentrate on her writing. Sheila is the award-winning writer of numerous women’s fiction novels and over 100 short stories, published in women’s magazines.

She has three married daughters, six little grandchildren, and over the years has enjoyed the companionship of three cats and two dogs. She derived lots of inspiration for her books Oliver the Cat Who Saved Christmas and Charlie the Kitten Who Saved a Life from remembering the pleasure and fun of sharing life with her own cats. Sheila is convinced cats can understand Human and that we really ought to learn to speak Cat!

When not working on her writing Sheila enjoys spending time with her family and friends, as well as reading, walking, swimming, photography and travel. For more information visit www.sheilanorton.com

For my lovely family – including their cats!

CHAPTER

ONE

OK, settle down, you lot. My friend Oliver here says you’re all desperate to hear my story, so please come out from behind the dustbins for a minute and stop fighting over that dead sparrow. Now, before we start, I know that some of you still think of me as a silly little tabby kitten who barely knows his tail from his whiskers, but I’ve had to grow up a lot during this summer, and you’ll understand why when you hear my story. Oliver, could you let my sisters sit next to you in case they get frightened? That’s right, Nancy. Yes, snuggle up to Oliver, Tabitha. I do feel a bit protective of you both, you see, even though we spend our lives living with separate human families. And if there are any really little kittens listening, or any scaredy-cats – sorry, I mean any cats of a nervous disposition – you may need to cover your ears with your paws at certain parts. No, Tabitha, I didn’t mean yet. I haven’t even started. I’ll tell you when we get to a scary part.

Where should I begin? Well, I suppose I should start with the day I found out about the holiday. Of course, back then, before it all happened, I had no idea what a holiday was. The first I heard about it was when my human, Julian, came home from work one evening and announced:

‘Right. I’ve booked a holiday.’

His female, Laura, just looked up at him, her eyes all cloudy with tiredness. I felt sorry for her, because I knew she hadn’t been getting much sleep. None of us had.

‘Oh, Julian,’ she said, sighing. ‘It’s a nice idea, but how on earth can we go on holiday at the moment? With all the bits and pieces we’d need to take for the baby?’

Right on cue, the baby, Jessica, who was upstairs in her little white basket, supposedly asleep, began to mew at the top of her voice. You know the sweet, soft little squeaky noises we make when we’re new-born kittens? Well, trust me, this was nothing like it. Human kittens, as I’d now learned only too well, make the most terrible din you can imagine. They howl. Their little faces go red, their mouths open so wide they seem to fill their whole face, and they scream. It happens when they want milk, but it also seems to happen for no apparent reason, any time, day or night. No wonder poor Laura looked exhausted.

‘I’ll go,’ Julian said, throwing his jacket on a chair and heading up the stairs. I trotted up after him. He hadn’t said hello to me yet. I meowed at him a bit and jumped round his feet while he lifted Jessica out of her basket, but he just said, ‘Mind out of the way, Charlie. I don’t want to drop the baby.’