Charlie the Kitten Who Saved a Life

‘Yes. And there are some cat treats in the bag,’ Laura said. ‘Give him some of those, and I’ve got some milk in a container here.’

That was more like it. Caroline undid the basket and lifted me out. Jessica’s little seat was empty – she was on Laura’s lap in the front, being fed. From the window I could see lots and lots of other cars, all lined up in rows, like they were having a meeting. I crunched up all my cat treats and lapped the milk out of the dish Laura had poured it into. I was feeling better now and ready for a run around. Also …

‘I need a wee!’ I meowed to Caroline.

‘I’ve just thought,’ she told Laura, as if she’d understood me. ‘He’s going to need a wee now he’s had that milk.’

‘Damn, I didn’t think of that,’ Julian said.

‘I did,’ Laura said calmly. ‘I’ve got a portable litter tray. It’s in the boot.’

So despite my complaints I was first put back into the basket ‘for safety’ while Julian opened the car door and went round to the boot – which some of you probably know, isn’t a boot at all but part of the car. (When they have so many words to choose from, why do they use the name of a shoe to describe the back of a car?) And then, when he came back and the door was closed again, I was taken back out of the basket and pushed inside this thing they’d put on the back seat next to Caroline. I can only describe it as a cardboard box, with some of my toilet litter scattered inside, as if that was going to help! I couldn’t believe my eyes. Were they joking? Did they seriously imagine any self-respecting cat was going to use that – in the car, with all of them watching? I’d rather die! And … well, by the time we finally arrived at the holiday, with my bladder bursting, the baby yelling again, Caroline moaning about being bored and Julian snapping at her, you know what? I was thinking of giving up one of my nine lives voluntarily, if only I could be back at home in Little Broomford, playing in the grounds with Oliver or lying in my nice comfy bed!

‘It’s all right, Charlie,’ Caroline was soothing me as she carried me, in my basket, into the strange place they were calling the Holiday Cottage. ‘I’ll let you out in a minute.’

While of course it was true I didn’t like being in the basket, I was more concerned now about relieving myself before I burst, so I was grateful to see Laura was following her, carrying, among other things, my proper litter tray from home, the one I remembered using when I was very little, and then again after I came home from having that operation at the vet’s. No grown-up cat likes using a litter tray if they have the option of a proper toilet in a flowerbed outside, of course, but the circumstances were now urgent. As soon as they’d shut the door and let me out of the basket, I zoomed across the room into my tray. And only then did I feel comfortable enough to take in my surroundings. Caroline had already gone off to explore the cottage, so I bounded after her so we could look around together. It didn’t take long.

‘It’s tiny,’ Caroline complained as we went back downstairs.

Julian laughed. ‘You only think that because you’ve always lived in a big house. This is quite a decent size by normal standards.’

‘There are only two bedrooms!’

‘How many do you think we need?’ Laura said. ‘Daddy’s right – we’re very spoilt, at home. Your dad has worked hard all his life to afford the lovely home we have. But this cottage is so pretty, don’t you think? It’s obviously very old, but it’s nice and cosy. And just look at the view from this window!’ She put her paws around Julian. ‘Well done, darling. It’s a lovely choice.’

Caroline went to join them looking out of the window, and gasped, ‘Oh! The sea is right there! It almost looks like we could jump into it from here!’

I leapt up onto the windowsill to see what was so exciting – and nearly fell off again with fright. Have any of you ever seen the sea? No? Well, I don’t know how to begin to describe it to you. Try to picture that huge pond we’ve got in the grounds of the Big House. You know, Oliver, where you once told me that according to Cat legend, an ancient Siamese called Old Chalky fell in one day while being chased by a fox, and lost his ninth life. Now, imagine that pond being the size of the whole of Little Broomford. And not only that, it moves! It goes backwards and forwards, up and down, looking like it’s going to come and get you. Needless to say, my first instinct was to run, but I fought the urge, because only a scaredy-cat leaves his human family to face danger on their own. So despite the trembling of my heart, I faced up to that horrible, threatening, moving thing beyond the window, arching my back and growling at it as fiercely as I could. Not that it took any notice – it just kept on coming.

Caroline and Laura were both laughing. How could they find this so amusing?

‘Charlie, you funny little cat, it’s the sea!’ Caroline said, picking me up and, to my horror, holding me right against the window. ‘It won’t hurt you!’