The Brave Kitten

“He’s definitely looking better,” Katie said after school the next day, watching Caramel trying to investigate the fridge. Helena had opened it to get out the butter, and Caramel could smell the ham for her packed lunches. It smelled delicious – and very close to his nose.

“He is, isn’t he,” Helena agreed happily. “No, you can’t climb in there!” She nudged Caramel back with her toe and closed the door. “Sorry. Am I mean, puss?”

Caramel stalked away with his tail in the air, as though he wasn’t bothered, but his plastered leg made it a bit tricky. He was still feeling wobbly.

“He looked quite sad in that photo you brought in,” Katie said. “But now he’s cheered up a lot, I think. It’s lovely to finally meet him in person. Caramel! Puss, puss, puss…” She made kissy noises, and Caramel padded cautiously across the floor towards her, sniffing her outstretched fingers, and letting her rub his head and tickle his ears.

“He’s much more friendly now,” Helena said happily. “I don’t think he’d have done that on Saturday when we brought him home. When you think that it’s only Wednesday. He’s got ever so much better, and in such a short time. When he was still at the vet’s he was so shy and miserable. He’s quite nervous sometimes, though,” she added. “He hates loud noises.”

“He walks really well, doesn’t he,” Katie said, watching Caramel prowl round their ankles as they weighed out the ingredients for their biscuits.

“He’s putting weight on his bad leg a bit more now. Before he was sort of hopping, as if he was trying not to put it down to the ground. He’s got another two and a half weeks, and then hopefully he can have the plaster taken off. Oh, please can you pass me the sugar?”

The two girls were making cat-shaped biscuits to sell at the Funniest Pet Show. Mr Brown, the head teacher, had said it was a great idea, very creative. He’d told them to go ahead and arrange the show for Friday when he’d be able to judge.

“Did you send in a video of Caramel with his plaster on?” Katie asked. “I’ve done Charlie – he was brilliant. The skateboard went out from under his paws and he just sort of stared at it as if he didn’t understand what had happened.”

“Yes, I sent it, but I don’t think he’ll win,” Katie said, shaking her head. “Some of the others are so funny. Bella’s cat trying to drink out of the taps in the washbasin is the best, I reckon. It’s the way she turns her head upside down, and then shakes all the water off her whiskers. It makes me laugh every time.”

Helena and some of the others in her class had been watching all the videos with their teacher during break and lunch to find the best ones that would be in the show – they’d meant to put them all in, but there were so many, there wasn’t time to let everyone watch them all. They had already made more than eighty pounds, just from people paying a pound to send in a video. Then they were selling tickets for the show, and everyone in the class was supposed to be bringing some cakes or biscuits in to sell, too.

“We should have got orangey-gold icing for the eyes on these biscuits,” Katie said, peering down at Caramel, who’d gone to sit in his basket under the counter, since they clearly weren’t going to feed him anything. “I hadn’t noticed before what a lovely colour his eyes are.”

“I know,” Helena agreed proudly. “Mum and I talked about doing the eyes gold when we made the shopping list, but we decided green ones were more usual. Caramel’s just extra-specially beautiful.”

“He looks like he’s sulking,” Katie said. “Is he OK? He’s got his nose tucked away inside his basket.”

Helena looked down under the counter and sighed. “I think that now he’s walking better, it’s making him cross being shut in the kitchen. Every time we open the kitchen door, he’s there, trying to slip round our legs. He never scratches or bites, but you can tell he’s annoyed. His ears go all flat, and his tail’s twitchy. He wants to go and explore.”

“Couldn’t you let him out?” Katie asked. “Why does he have to stay in the kitchen?”

“Molly – that’s the vet – she said that if he tried to climb or jump he could jar his broken leg and stop it healing. Even if it was just trying to climb the stairs, he might trip and fall because of the plaster. There’s nowhere in the kitchen that he can reach to jump up to, but there’s enough space for him to exercise his leg muscles. Otherwise his leg’s going to go all thin and weak inside the plaster.”

“Oh, I see.” Katie nodded. “That’s sensible.”

“Mmmm, Caramel doesn’t think so, though. He thinks we’re just being mean.” Helena sighed. “Little grumpy-face,” she told Caramel lovingly.

Caramel heard her, and looked up. He gazed at her for a moment and then yawned hugely, showing all his teeth and his bright pink tongue.

Helena giggled. “See? That’s what he thinks of us…”

Caramel sat by the back door, his nose pressed against the narrow crack between the door and the frame. There was something out in the garden, he was sure. He could hear it – a bird, perhaps, tapping and twittering around on the little stone patio. He ached to be out there, too, smelling the smells, chasing the birds. Just feeling the air ruffling up his fur. He hated being an inside cat.

He paced up and down beside the door for a few moments, letting out a frustrated mew. His leg was so much better now. It felt stronger. He was sure he could even climb a tree, if only they would let him out. Or maybe scramble up on to the top of a fence, just to get a good look around. He wanted to see what the outside was like round here. He was so sick of being shut up indoors.

His ears twitched as he caught a sound from the front of the house – footsteps on the path, and now scratching as someone fiddled with the front door. Helena was back!

No. His shoulders sagged a little. It wasn’t the right time. It would be that other lady come to check on him.

“Hello, Caramel…” Gran was squeezing carefully round the door, making sure not to let him dart out. “How are you, darling? Want some of these nice little biscuit things?”

She brought a packet out of her handbag, and Caramel sniffed as she pulled it open, and the delicious smell wafted around. But somehow, it just wasn’t very exciting. Not nearly as good as the fresh air smell through the back door. It was starting to rain now. He could smell the wet pavement smell, and hear the heavy fat drops pattering down on the stone. He wanted to be out in it. Not for long – just enough to feel the freshness, and then dash back in and lick off all the water. It would be so good…

“Oh, it’s raining! And I didn’t bring an umbrella – what a nuisance.” Gran was staring out of the window, looking irritated. “And look, Caramel, they’ve got washing out! Well, that’s going to get soaked. And there’s Helena’s school jumper. I wonder if she needs that for tomorrow… Drat it, I’ll have to go and bring it all in.”

She put down her bag on the counter, and hurried to the door, jingling the keys as she unlocked it.

Caramel hadn’t understood what she was saying about the washing, of course, but he knew what the sound of the keys meant. She was letting him out! He stood by her feet, his tail twitching excitedly, and his whiskers fanned and bristling. Out! After all this time! As the door opened, he darted round Gran’s feet, his caramel fur brushing against her legs, and hopped down the little step on to the patio.

Gran was thinking about the washing, not about Caramel, and so she didn’t realize what had happened until it was too late. “Oh! Oh, no! You’re not supposed to go out! Oh, my goodness, how stupid of me…” She abandoned the washing and went after the cat. “Caramel! Come on… Caramel… Puss, puss…”

But Caramel was sniffing at the flower pots and twitching delightedly at the feel of the rain on his fur. He could smell other cats, which was interesting, and dangerous, and exciting. And perhaps a dog, close by, and there was a beetle walking along in front of his nose… Everything was good…

“Come here, Caramel, come on, you’ll hurt yourself…” Gran reached down and tried to grab him, but Caramel skittered out of reach, his cast knocking on the stone paving, and throwing him off balance.

He hissed as a twinge of pain ran through his injured leg, and backed away furiously.

“Oh no…” Gran hurried after him, but Caramel hissed again, frightened and hurting, and darted away around the corner of the house, up the little side passage where the bins were.

Gran was chasing him but he didn’t want to be caught. His leg was throbbing as he scurried up the passage, and now there was a gate, shutting him in again. Caramel spat angrily and pressed up against it. He wasn’t going to let her grab him! He couldn’t be shut up inside again. He darted a clawed paw at Gran as she came close and reached to pick him up. Desperate, he squashed himself down and scrabbled under the wooden boards, dragging his plastered leg behind him. He struggled, mewing, for a second – and then he was out, at the front of the house, on the road.

Once he’d squeezed under the gate, Caramel hobbled out on to the pavement, going as fast as he could with his plastered leg. He was determined not to let Gran catch him. He scurried along the pavement and darted behind someone’s wheelie bin when he heard the gate squeak open, and Gran dash out after him. He could hear her calling, but he stayed tucked behind the bin.

Caramel peered out, watching her, and when she hurried off the other way down the road, he pressed himself close against the garden wall, and slunk away. Everything smelled so good in the damp, rain-fresh air. His leg was aching a little – he hadn’t gone so fast or so far on it for ages – but he didn’t mind. He was so tired of cages and that tiny room.

The rain had stopped now and the clouds were blowing over. He shivered with pleasure as he felt the warm autumn sun shining down on his fur. That was what he wanted to do! He would find somewhere to lie in the sun. If only Gran hadn’t been chasing him, he could have stayed in the little garden at the back of Helena’s house. He was sure there would have been a nice sunny place to curl up. And when Helena came home, she could stroke him while he snoozed.

He glanced uncertainly back down the road. He could go and see. He could squeeze back under the gate… But he could hear Gran calling him, her voice more and more worried. That high, panicked note made the fur lift a little along his spine, and he hurried on a few steps further.

He couldn’t go too far, though, he realized, after he’d gone past a few more houses. It was hard, half hopping along with his cast like this, and he was already getting tired.

He was looking around, wondering where he could go and rest and sleep in the sun for a little while, when he heard it. It drowned out Gran’s shouting – the low rumble of a car, heading down the road towards him.

Caramel’s ears went back, and his tail fluffed out to twice its normal size. He had heard cars before, of course. But now the sound reminded him of the accident, and that strange blaze of light, and then waking up to find he couldn’t walk.

He whipped his head desperately from side to side as the growl of the car grew louder, and as it roared past he shot into the nearest garden, forgetting how much his leg was hurting, and how weary he was. He had to get away.

Caramel darted under the bushes, not even noticing how wet they were. And then he huddled there, shivering and terrified, and wishing he’d never strayed outside the house.