Ginger The Stray Kitten

Chapter Three

The next morning, the kittens were startled awake by the noise of a vehicle driving into the yard. Mrs Bowen didn’t have a car, and she took most of her eggs to the village shop to sell, so very few people drove up to the farm. The kittens blinked at each other, then peered blearily over the edge of their straw nest. The kittens’ mother, the spotted tabby cat, went to stick her nose round the old barn door. The ginger kitten pattered after her, eager to see what was going on. He wriggled between his mother’s front paws, staring out into the yard.

Mrs Bowen was standing by the back of a van, next to two girls. One of the girls opened up the doors and started to unload some odd-looking boxes. The van smelled strange, the kitten thought. He’d never smelled anything quite like it before. And what were those wire box things?

His mother was tense beside him, her whiskers pricked out as she watched what was going on. His brother and sisters were starting to mew and cry back in their nest, as they smelled the fear scents on their mother and the other older cats who were watching, too. They just didn’t trust humans. The tabby cat backed into the barn so that her ginger baby wasn’t between her paws any more, and butted him hard with her nose.

He looked round in surprise. What was the matter? Why was she pushing him? Was it a game? Then he saw that her eyes were wide with fear, and the fur had risen all along her back. This was no game. She swiped the kitten with her paw, sending him sliding out into the yard, and then she hissed at him with her ears laid flat back against her head. It was quite clear what she was telling him to do.

Run!

The ginger kitten scooted quickly out of the barn door, heading for the old tractor. The tyre had come away from the wheel, and the ginger kitten had found this wonderful hiding place while he was playing at jumping out on top of his sisters. There he waited, his heart thudding with fear, trying to work out what was going on.

His mother had darted back into the barn to try and fetch his brother and sisters, and some of the other cats were trying to make a run for it, too. But as soon as they’d seen that the cats knew they were there, the two girls had quickly put a net round the barn door. Now they’d put on big gloves, and they were catching the cats with strange things that gripped them round the neck.

Ginger watched in horror as one by one his brother and sisters were caught, and placed into wire cages. He could hear them mewing frantically as the cages were loaded into the van. Then one of the girls walked right up to the tractor where he was hiding.

The kitten edged back as far as he could go, trembling. He didn’t want the girl to see him, but now he couldn’t see what was happening. Where were they taking his brother and sisters? Were they all in that horrible-smelling van? Had they caught his mother, too? He couldn’t see! His tail thrashed from side to side as the girl walked past, searching – for him, maybe. Ginger curled himself into the tiniest ball, his eyes wide with fear.

“I’ve just caught the last one. I’m glad I had my gloves, she was struggling like anything!” shouted a voice from across the farmyard. Ginger then listened as the girl walked away from the tractor and the van doors slammed shut.

As the van drove off, a small bright-pink nose peeped out from the wheel of the tractor. Ginger watched the van rattling out of the farm gate, carrying his brother and sisters away from him, and gave a miserable little mew. Should he try to follow them? But he was sure his mother hadn’t been happy about where they were going. Where was his mother? Maybe she’d managed to find a hiding place, too? Perhaps she would come and get him now the people had gone? Or should he try to find her?

Ginger crept out of his hiding place, and started to search the farmyard. It smelled empty, and there was no sign of any other cats at all. But he couldn’t believe that his mother had left him. She wouldn’t! Even if they had caught her, she would have got away somehow.

He wandered round the outside of the barn, mewing sadly, and wishing she would come back soon, because he was getting hungry. Maybe she’d gone hunting for a nice mouse for his breakfast. Yes, that was probably it.

As the morning wore on, he got hungrier and hungrier. He searched around for his mother and mewed pitifully for her, but still she didn’t come.

At last he went a little closer to the farmhouse, drawn by the smell from the bins. Mrs Bowen had been clearing out her fridge and cupboards, and there were some black plastic bags lying there. The kitten pawed at one of them hopefully and clawed a little hole, hooking out some old cheese. He nibbled at it. It wasn’t very nice, but it was better than nothing.

He ate all of it, his whiskers twitching at the strange taste. He wished the girl would come back and feed him some more of that delicious ham. He had been surprised when she stroked him, but he’d quite liked it. If she came back now, he wouldn’t be all on his own and she might stroke him some more. Oh, if only somebody would come!

Rosie practically towed Gran to the farmyard after school.

“All right, Rosie, all right! But we can’t stay long. Mrs Bowen is still busy packing. She’s moving tomorrow. She won’t want us bothering her today,” Gran said firmly.

“I know, but I must just find out about the kittens, whether the people did come today. Mum said we might be able to pop into the rescue centre on the way home!” Rosie looked up at her gran with shining eyes. “If she likes him, we could even take him home this afternoon!”

Gran smiled. It was lovely to see Rosie so excited, although she wasn’t sure Rosie’s mum would agree to a kitten straight away.

Mrs Bowen waved to them from the kitchen window. She was piling china carefully into a big box, and looked a bit hot and bothered.

“Did they come?” Rosie asked her excitedly. “Did they take all the kittens to the rescue centre?”

Mrs Bowen smiled. “Oh yes, dear. This morning.”

“Have you got the address?” Rosie asked hopefully. “Mum says we can go and look at the kittens – she might even let me keep one of them! The sweet little ginger one, you know?”

Mrs Bowen wrote it down, and Rosie folded up the piece of paper and tucked it carefully in her pocket.

Mum had said she’d try and leave work a bit early so they could go to the rescue centre that evening, and now Rosie sat by Gran’s front window, watching for her car. When her mum arrived at last, she dashed out to meet her.

“The kittens are at the rescue centre! I’ve got the address, Mum. Come on, they’re only open until six!” she cried.

Her mum laughed. “All right! But remember, Rosie, we’re just looking. I know you hope we’ll be taking that kitten home, but I still need to think about this. And anyway, I can’t imagine we’ll be allowed to take one of them yet. They’ll need to be checked by a vet, to make sure they’re fit and healthy.”

Rosie nodded. “But at least let’s go and see!” she pleaded.

Secretly she was sure that as soon as her mum saw Ginger, she would give in. Maybe they wouldn’t be able to take him home today, but they could still tell the rescue centre people that they wanted him!

The rescue centre was in the next village. The girl at the reception desk knew about the kittens, and she smiled at Rosie’s eager questions.

“I’m sure you can go and see them,” she said. “We wouldn’t usually let people visit the kittens until we’d checked them over, but seeing as you already know them…” She led Rosie and her mum through to a room at the back, with large cat-runs in it.

Rosie spotted the tabby mother cat at once. She was prowling up and down the run, looking anxious.

“Oh, she really doesn’t like being shut in. And she must be upset that she’s not with her kittens,” Rosie said sadly.

The girl from the rescue centre nodded. “I know. But because she’s a feral cat we need to separate her kittens from her now, before they get too old. It’s so the kittens can get used to humans and to give them the best chance of settling in when they go to their new homes. They’re in that run at the end, want to see them?”

“Oh, yes… Come and see, Mum!” Rosie whispered, grabbing her mum’s hand and pulling her along.

“Oh, they are sweet!” her mum agreed, peering through the wire. “Look at that little black one!”

But Rosie was staring anxiously into the run. There were four kittens in the basket, curled up asleep – one black, and three tabbies. There was no lovely little ginger kitten.

Ginger wasn’t there!