Sammy the Shy Kitten

Chapter Seven

“Emma! You’re still up!”

Emma jerked awake. Mum was standing in the living-room doorway, looking surprised.

“Sorry,” said Auntie Grace. “Emma was upset, I didn’t want to make her go to bed…”

“What happened?” Dad asked, just at the same time as Mum noticed Emma’s scratched wrist and swooped down to check it.

“Emma, you’ve hurt yourself! Oh no, was it Sammy?”

“He didn’t mean to.” Emma looked sleepily at Dad and Mum. “It was an accident. And, um, I broke his food bowl. Sorry… We swept it up.”

“What’s been going on?” Dad sat down on the arm of the sofa, and Mum came to sit next to Emma.

Emma sighed. She was so tired it was hard to explain. “I went to feed him, but he was scared of Auntie Grace.”

“It was my fault. I should have thought, of course, he’s never seen me before,” Auntie Grace put in. “And he’s a bit more nervous than most kittens. I frightened him and he jumped out of the crate and scratched Emma by accident.”

“And that made me drop his bowl, and he got even more scared and ran up the curtains.”

“Oh my goodness,” Mum muttered.

“I’m afraid he did tear them a bit,” Auntie Grace went on slowly. “But he’s back in the crate now and he’s calmed down. In fact, last time Emma checked he was asleep, wasn’t he?”

Emma nodded.

Mum leaned back against the sofa and let out a huge sigh. “I knew this was a mistake. We should never have brought him home. He was so upset when we took him away from the stables and his mum. I just don’t think it’s fair.”

“Mum!” Emma gasped.

“Oh, Emma. You have to see I’m right – just look at your wrist!”

Emma looked down at the three long red lines, and the little scratches that she’d got all over her hands when she was taking Sammy off the curtains. They were sore, but it hadn’t been Sammy’s fault. He was just scared – he hadn’t meant to hurt her.

Mum put her arm round Emma. “I know how hard you’ve tried with Sammy, but he might not be the right cat for us after all. He needs to go to a shelter, I think. Where they’ve got people who are used to looking after cats like him.”

“I’m not sure,” Dad said. “I know Sammy was difficult when we brought him home, but he is getting better.”

“Getting better!” Mum stared at him. “Emma’s covered in scratches!”

“I don’t think it’s that big a deal,” Auntie Grace said gently. “Even Whisky scratches me sometimes, if I go to pick him up and he just doesn’t feel like it.”

Mum sighed again. “I’m sorry, Emma, but he’s too unpredictable. I’m not sure he’s ever going to be really friendly. Maybe he needs a home more like the stables, where he doesn’t have to be around people if he doesn’t want to.”

“Mum, please don’t send him away!” Emma wailed. “I don’t want any other cat, only Sammy! He’ll be fine, he will. I’ll do anything to keep him.” She stared pleadingly at her mum, tears trickling down her cheeks. She couldn’t bear the thought of poor Sammy going to a shelter – somewhere else strange and new and frightening. He’d have to start all over again, and soon it would be too late to tame him. He’d be shy and wild forever.

“Look, just give us a few more weeks, love,” Dad suggested. “Of course today’s a bit of a setback, but we have to keep trying.”

“Two more weeks.” Mum looked from Emma to Dad and back again. “We have to be able to tell by then, don’t we?”

Dad nodded slowly. “All right. Emma?”

“I suppose so,” Emma whispered huskily. She was so upset her voice seemed to have disappeared. Two weeks! It was no time at all.

“What’s the matter?” Keira asked, as she led Jasmine past Emma and Sparky. “Is Sparky being a pain about getting tacked up again? You look, well, a bit sad…” she trailed off, not sure what to say. Emma looked like she might be about to cry.

“No.” Emma sniffed. “Actually Sparky’s been a total star. Maybe he can tell I just can’t deal with a tricksy pony today.”

“Oh no, what is it?” Keira swapped Jasmine’s reins to her other hand and gave Emma a hug. “Don’t cry!”

“I can’t help it.” Emma’s voice shook. “Mum says we might have to give Sammy to a shelter. She thinks we can’t cope with him.”

“But wasn’t it going really well?” Keira said, confused. “You showed me that photo your dad took of him eating off your fingers. He looked so happy.”

“He’s still jumpy, though,” Emma gulped. “Mum thinks he’s not going to adapt to living in a house. He got scared last night because my auntie was there and he scratched me. I didn’t mind – not much – but Mum was really upset about it. She says we’ve got two weeks to prove he can be a proper pet, or he has to go.” She could hardly get the last words out, she was crying so much.

Keira hugged her tighter, and even Sparky and Jasmine leaned in close, as if they wanted to make Emma feel better.

“Two weeks is a long time,” Keira said. “Honestly, it really is. And I saw how friendly and tame he was with you here. You nearly had me stroking him, Emma, and I’m scared of cats!”

“I suppose so…” Emma said, between gasps. “It doesn’t feel like long, though. If he goes to a shelter he’ll be all lost and alone. It’ll be awful.”

“Then you absolutely have to make sure it doesn’t happen,” Keira said firmly. “I’ll see if I can think of anything to help.” She gave Emma one last hug. “Ems, we have to go. Liz is waving at us. She wants us to try those dressage aids today, remember?”

Emma nodded and sniffed hard. “I’m OK. I’m so glad I told you about it, Keira. I do actually feel a bit happier.”

Emma grabbed her riding hat from the back seat and looked anxiously at Auntie Grace’s purple car parked outside their house.

“It’s all right,” Dad said soothingly. “She said she wouldn’t go near Sammy. Although we will have to try and get him used to meeting new people eventually. She’s got something for you.”

Emma hurried down the path, curious to see what Auntie Grace had brought. She had a feeling it was something important – not just a magazine or some chocolate to cheer her up, but something that really mattered.

“Emma! I’m so glad you got back before I had to go to work. Look, I’ve brought you this.” Auntie Grace whirled out of the front door on to the path. “Here. I really hope it helps.”

Emma looked down at the book that her aunt had pressed into her hands – Taming Feral Kittens. There was a gorgeous little ginger kitten on the front of it, with a shy, worried look on his face that made Emma think of Sammy at once.

“I got it at the animal shelter. I thought I’d go and ask them if they had any tips for you. They were so friendly and helpful. This was written by someone who used to work there, and they said to call if you get really stuck. I wrote the number inside the cover for you.” She hugged Emma. “Sweetheart, if Sammy does have to go there, they will look after him, I promise.”

Emma nodded. “But it’s not going to happen,” she said firmly. “This is brilliant, Auntie Grace. I’m going to go and read it now.”

Sammy sat in the doorway of the crate, looking out suspiciously. Everything was different – the crate had been moved down on to the floor, and he didn’t like that, for a start. He preferred to be high up, so he could see who was coming. High up was safe.

But he liked the open door. He thought he did, anyway. He sniffed the air beyond the crate, his whiskers twitching. He could step out, right on to the floor. He could explore. Cautiously, he extended one paw over the door frame, and then the next, and then his two back paws.

He stood nervously just outside the crate, watching, scanning the room. Emma was there, sitting in the corner, and her dad was over by the counter. She wasn’t looking at him – she was gazing off into the distance as if she hadn’t noticed what he was doing. Sammy took a few steps out into the room and sniffed.

Food! He could definitely smell food. He was sure it was well past his usual feeding time. He’d been expecting Emma to bring food, but instead she and her dad had lifted his crate down on to the floor. Determinedly, he stomped across the floor, towards the smell. Emma had his bowl on her lap. He stopped a few steps away from her, looking uncertainly at the bowl. He wasn’t sure he wanted to go any closer, but he was hungry.

His tail swished from side to side, and then he made a panicked little run, flinging himself at the bowl. What if she took it away? Sammy climbed up on Emma’s leg and started to gobble down the food as quickly as he could.

“It’s all right,” Emma murmured. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Sammy’s ears flickered, but he didn’t stop eating. Then he felt her stroking him, very gently running her hand over his shoulders and down his back. It was nice – it felt like his mother licking him. He slowed his eating down a little, almost sure that the bowl wasn’t going to be taken away.

At last, he’d finished the whole bowl. He licked round it carefully and then sniffed it to make sure there wasn’t any more. There wasn’t, but he was full anyway.

Slowly, carefully, he settled down into a crouch on Emma’s lap. She was still stroking him, so gently. Sammy stretched out his paws and kneaded them up and down on Emma’s skirt. Then he closed his eyes and purred.