Charlie the Kitten Who Saved a Life

‘It was bloody brave of you, young Charlie,’ said Black, coming to rub his face against mine. ‘I don’t think I’d have dared go for that gull on my own. Good for you.’

This was praise indeed, coming from Black. He was the most aggressive of the boys and I hadn’t forgotten that he’d been the first one to attack me, that day when I’d been alone and defenceless. Up till now I’d always believed he still looked down on me somewhat as a naive, posh little house kitten.

‘Thank you,’ I purred. ‘Thank you all,’ I added as the other boys joined in with the congratulations. I looked around at them all. My new friends. I finally felt completely accepted by them now. I should be able to confide in them, shouldn’t I – explain why I’d suddenly been able to behave so bravely. ‘It was because of Caroline, you see – my human kitten,’ I said. ‘I told you she got attacked by a seagull, didn’t I?’

‘So what?’ Stinky said.

‘Well, she hurt herself – badly. Her poor head was broken, and bleeding, and she might still be in hospital, and she might be very ill, everyone’s worried about her, and … and I miss her so much, she’s my favourite human in the whole world, and I just want to go home to her again and find out if she’s all right, and …’

I stopped. All the boys were staring at me. I realised I’d been making a terrible mewing noise at the back of my throat all through this long meow – that in fact I was probably sounding more like a pathetic baby kitten than a brave seagull-chaser.

‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘But that was what made me so cross with that seagull.’

‘Well, at least something good came of it, then!’ Black said cheerfully.

They all turned away, and I tried to calm myself down again. It had been pointless, after all, trying to explain to them how I felt about Caroline. They’d never understand.

But just then, Big turned back again, breaking away from the others, and he came over to me and rubbed his face against mine. He didn’t say anything. He probably didn’t have a clue what to say, probably hadn’t even followed a single word of my meow. But he was showing he cared – and that, for now, was something. For now, it had to be enough. But after that day, I was even more determined I’d somehow find Caroline again, even if it took me the rest of my nine lives.

CHAPTER

FOURTEEN

There was one thing about the Chocolate Ice Cream Incident that I didn’t tell the others. Never having lived with humans, the feral boys had no understanding about the kind of toys they played with. So it would have been hard to explain to them that I knew people in the crowd watching us that day, and probably other days too, had been taking photos of us. I’d glimpsed them holding their phones and cameras up in the air and aiming them at us as we stalked the gulls before a chase, so it wasn’t too much of a surprise to me to find out eventually that someone had captured a picture of me going to the rescue of the Ice Cream woman. This is how I found out.

Once again it was because of my new human friends Jean and Shirley. When I made my secret visits to them at the café, I often heard them talking about whatever had been written in their newspaper. On this particular occasion, a day or two after the Battle for the Chocolate Ice Cream, they were sitting with their heads close together, laughing, apparently, at a picture in it.

‘That’s so funny, Jean!’ the one called Shirley was saying. ‘Just look at that seagull, terrified of one little cat!’

‘Well, you’re right about one thing, Shirl, I’ll give you that – the wild cats have certainly started being a deterrent around here. I hope that poor old dear wasn’t badly hurt.’

‘No. My niece Holly was down on the seafront that day, as it happens, and saw the whole thing. She said the cat scared the seagull right off, and although the poor woman got a nasty shock and did drop her ice cream when she stumbled, she wasn’t hurt. Someone caught her and stopped her from falling over. Apparently a lot of other cats joined in afterwards but this little one had already saved the day.’ Then she picked the paper up again and held it closer to her face. ‘Hang on a minute!’ she said, sounding excited. ‘Who does this look like to you?’

They both stared at the paper again, then at me – I was sitting by Jean’s feet, where I’d been washing my whiskers after their usual treat of a saucer of milk.

‘Are you saying you think it’s him – our little friend here?’ Jean looked back at the paper again. ‘Well, you could be right, although to be fair there are probably lots of little feral tabbies like this around.’

‘Well, the person who sent this picture into the paper wasn’t the only one to have his camera out,’ said Shirley. ‘My niece told me she’d filmed the whole thing on her phone. She’s going to show me when she comes round tonight. She’s put it on Facebook, and YouTube apparently. She says it might go viral, whatever that means. She seems to think it’ll make her famous. Kids, eh? The ideas they get into their heads!’