Charlie the Kitten Who Saved a Life

I was particularly aware of this because of listening to the conversations of the two females called Jean and Shirley. Unknown to Big – who would definitely have tried to stop me – I’d started hanging around the café where they seemed to meet every day. They’d noticed me outside the fence again, and had called out hello to me in such friendly voices, I knew they were kind humans who wouldn’t hurt me. I was desperate for some human affection, and I knew Big wouldn’t understand. So I waited until he was having a nap, and went back to the café on my own. This time when Jean noticed me and said ‘Here he is again! Hello, little tabby cat. You’re a friendly one, aren’t you?’ – I scampered up to her and wound myself around her legs.

‘Ah, he’s really quite tame,’ Shirley crooned, reaching down to stroke me. ‘And he only looks young, Jean, not much more than a kitten. Perhaps he isn’t a feral after all.’

‘But look at the state of him. He’s definitely been fighting – and his coat’s in a terrible state. Poor little thing. How come you’re so friendly?’ Jean added, as I started to purr with the contentment of being stroked.

‘Because I’m not feral! I’m a pet, and I’m lost,’ I meowed, rubbing my head against her hand.

‘Perhaps he’s actually a lost pet,’ Shirley said, as if I hadn’t just been telling her that.

‘I don’t know,’ Jean said, looking at me doubtfully. ‘If he is, I reckon he’s been living rough for most of his life.’

‘Someone must be feeding him, then, unless he’s just hunting mice and birds.’

‘Or else he’s living on scraps, like all the other ferals – and helping to keep those dratted gulls away,’ Jean said, and then she laughed, and added, ‘although I can’t imagine this little chap chasing a seagull like the others have been doing, can you, Shirley?’

I felt a bit offended, then. Little did they know, I was getting as good at it as any of them! Anyway I didn’t hang around for much longer – I was too worried that Big would wake up and come looking for me, and I could just imagine how he’d feel about me not only fraternising with strange humans, but letting them stroke me. But I felt a bit better for having made friends with them, and I was determined to come back again whenever I could. It was, after all, how I got information for the other boys about what humans were saying. And, eventually, it was how I came to be taken home to my family. But that’s another story, and I can see there are some small kittens among you getting sleepy. So I think we should probably say goodnight for now, and I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow.

CHAPTER

THIRTEEN

Morning, everyone. I hope you’re all feeling bright-eyed and bushy-tailed today? No? What’s up? Oh, you didn’t get much sleep, Smudge? Or you, Oliver? Nancy? None of you could get to sleep, could you … for worrying about the end of my story, wondering how I finally got brought home again? Well, I’m sorry, I must say. Imagine how I felt, wondering about it myself, night after night, curled up in that nook in the brick wall with Big snoring next to me. I might have gone a little bit feral myself in some ways, but I never quite got used to not having a soft, comfy bed to sleep in. So think yourselves lucky! I shall never take my good fortune for granted again, I can assure you.

One of the things that bothered me most during those long, uncomfortable nights, when I was often sleepless with homesickness and anxiety about the future, was that my family would be getting used to living without me. Caroline might have forgotten about me. What if they gave up on me, and got themselves a new cat to replace me? If they saw me now, would they even recognise me? I had no doubt I’d changed since I’d been living rough. Quite apart from the scars I’d got from that fight, and the slight limp I still had because of my leg wound, I could feel that I was thinner. I was probably unhealthy-looking from my peculiar diet, too, although my muscles felt harder and stronger. My fur was getting matted because, although I refused to neglect my personal hygiene, and I puzzled my new friends by insisting on washing myself thoroughly after every meal, I’d been used to having my coat cared for and brushed by my humans too. I guessed I’d be taunted and teased if I mentioned any concerns about my appearance, but I hated to think that I’d probably also got fleas by now. All the boys spent so much time scratching themselves, I had to accept it was inevitable, and started to regret all the times I’d fought against Julian and Laura when they’d been administering flea treatments to the back of my neck. We really should show more appreciation of how much our humans do for us, you know, but of course, we cats prefer to think we could manage without them. I’ve learnt my lesson the hard way. I always thought they needed us more than we need them, but in fact – I hate to say it, and you might not believe it – but the reverse is probably true.