The Brave Kitten

“We’d better hurry, Helena,” Lucy said, glancing at her watch and walking faster. “There’s loads to do this morning, with two dogs coming in to be operated on. I need to get everything ready.”

“I’ll help,” Helena said cheerfully, twirling along the pavement in front of her cousin. Helping out at the surgery was her biggest treat. “I can do the feeding and clean the cages on my own. I know what I’m doing.”

Lucy grinned at her. “I know you do. You’re like the youngest veterinary nurse in the country, Helena – you’ve had almost as much practice as me.”

“I haven’t decided yet what I want to be – whether I should be a nurse, or an actual vet,” Helena said seriously. “Being a vet’s harder. And I’m not sure about doing operations. I don’t really like blood. But maybe I’d get used to it.”

“You do,” Lucy said. “I didn’t like it much when I first started training as a nurse, but now it doesn’t bother me at all.”

“I suppose that cute lop-eared rabbit has already gone home?” Helena asked. She’d loved stroking the rabbit when she’d gone to see Lucy at the surgery after school a couple of days before. “He was so friendly and— Lucy, what’s that?” Helena stopped dancing along the pavement and peered worriedly at the parked car up ahead of them. There was a little mound of pale, sandy fur tucked just underneath the car.

“Oh no…” Lucy murmured. “Helena, don’t look, OK? Just wait there.”

“What is it?” Helena asked. She was suddenly feeling a little bit sick, and her heart was jumping. She didn’t want to go closer and see whatever it was. But at the same time she couldn’t just stay back. The little heap of fur looked like a cat to her, but cats didn’t usually lie sprawled like that, not on a road, anyway. Only if they were somewhere warm and safe. “Is it a cat?” she whispered miserably to Lucy, coming closer. “Has it been run over?”

Lucy glanced back at her, frowning, but she could see that Helena wasn’t going to stay out of the way. Her cousin loved cats, even though she didn’t have one of her own. And Lucy knew how sensible she was. “I think so. Don’t cry, Helena. It must have been quick.”

But Helena wasn’t listening. “Lucy, look! He moved! I’m sure he did.”

Lucy whipped round. The little cat had been so cold and lifeless that she hadn’t thought he could still be alive, but Helena was right. He’d twitched, just a bit. “Oh, wow…” she muttered. “We need to get him to the surgery, now. Molly and Pete should be in soon – he’s definitely going to need a vet to look at him.”

“How are we going to get him there, though? Won’t it hurt him if we pick him up?” Helena crouched down by the car, peering at the little cat. One of his back legs was really swollen and seemed to be at a funny angle, and she could hardly see him breathing at all. But his eyes were open now, just a tiny slit of gold. He was looking at them.

“Yes,” Lucy admitted. “And he might not want us to touch him, either. But we need to get him there quickly. He’s in shock, and I’ve got a feeling he’s been here for ages – he’s so cold.” She pulled off her big scarf and gently wrapped it round the cat, scooping him up and trying to support the injured leg as well as she could.

Helena watched, biting her lip. She’d seen cats at the surgery hissing and scratching at Lucy and the vets because they were frightened or hurting. She hoped this cat wasn’t going to fight – he didn’t look as though he had the strength.

Maybe he was just too weak, or maybe he understood that Lucy and Helena were trying to help, but the cat lay still in Lucy’s arms as they hurried down the street. Helena was jogging beside Lucy, carrying her bag and looking up at the cat. His head was drooping over Lucy’s arm, and from time to time his mouth opened in a tiny, soundless mew.

“You might be hurting him,” Helena told Lucy worriedly.

“I know. But we’re nearly there. Look, I can see Molly’s car, she’s arrived already.”

Helena pushed open the surgery door and looked around. Molly must be out the back somewhere, or upstairs making a coffee.

“Helena, you hold him.” Lucy carefully passed over the scarf-wrapped bundle. “Take him into the back room. I’ll go and find Molly.”

Helena stood there helplessly. The cat hardly weighed anything at all, and he wasn’t moving. She had an awful feeling he wasn’t going to survive – he was too weak. “Just hold on,” she whispered, as she carried him through to the room where Molly and Pete operated. She wondered if she ought to put him down on the table, but she didn’t want to. The table was cold and hard, and she wanted the cat to know that somebody loved him. “Just hold on, please… We’re going to make you better.”

The golden cat opened his eyes and gazed up at her. He didn’t understand what was going on. Everything seemed to hurt and he was frightened. He still wasn’t sure what had happened – there had been bright lights suddenly flashing out of the darkness and so much noise. He didn’t remember anything after that, until he had woken up at the side of the road and his legs wouldn’t work properly.

He had wanted so much to go home, to curl up in his basket, and hide away until he felt better. But he was so dizzy and sick, he wasn’t really sure where home was. And it hurt to move. He couldn’t walk, one of his back legs wasn’t working at all and the other one ached. He could only do a strange sort of hop, dragging his bad leg behind him. He’d managed to get a little way up the road, but then he’d felt so cold and weary, he’d hidden under the parked car. Once he’d lain down, it just seemed too hard to get up again.

Now he could feel the warmth of the girl’s arms round him. He liked the softness of her voice, too. She sounded gentle, and he rubbed his head against her arm, just a little, to show her he was grateful. But it hurt too much to do anything more, and his eyes flickered closed again.

“Lucy, he woke up a bit, but now I think he’s getting worse!” Helena said anxiously, as Lucy and Molly clattered down the stairs and into the operating room. “He’s gone really limp. Please say you can help him, Molly, he’s such a sweet cat. He hasn’t hissed or scratched or anything.”

Molly took the cat and laid him carefully on the table. “Definitely a broken leg,” she murmured. “But it’s the shock that’s really dangerous at the moment. Let’s get him on a drip. That’ll get some fluids back into him,” she explained, seeing Helena frown. “It’s a bit like you having one of those energy drinks after you’ve been running.”

“Oh.” Helena nodded, wishing the cat would open his eyes again. He looked so weak. He hadn’t even flinched when Molly had moved him.

“Once he’s warmed through we can examine him properly,” Molly explained. “I don’t want to fuss him with X-rays while he’s like this. But we can at least check if he’s got a microchip, so that if he has, we can ring his owner.”

Lucy passed her the microchip scanner and Molly held it above the cat’s neck – but it didn’t beep. It didn’t make any sound at all.

“No chip,” Molly sighed. “Oh well. We can put a sign up in the surgery window, I suppose.”

“But what if his owners never find out where he is?” Helena asked, her voice shaking a little. Life seemed so hard for the poor cat – run over, and now maybe homeless as well.

“Once they realize he’s missing, I’m sure they’ll ring round the local vets,” Lucy told her comfortingly. But she glanced at Molly. “Are we going to be OK to operate?” she asked. “I mean, he is very skinny. If he’s a stray…”

Molly nodded, frowning. “I know. We could send him over to the PDSA clinic – they’d treat him. But he’s so wobbly already, I don’t think it’s a good idea to move him.”

“Why can’t you sort his leg out here?” Helena asked. She didn’t understand what was going on. Surely they needed to operate on the cat as soon as they could? Helena knew that Molly sometimes worked as a volunteer vet at the PDSA clinic, which was for pets whose owners had problems paying for expensive vet treatments. But why did the cat have to go there?

Lucy put an arm round her shoulders. “It depends on the X-ray, but he might need to have the broken leg pinned,” she explained. “It’s a really expensive operation, and then he’s going to need to be looked after for a while. Plus he’ll have to have another operation to take the pins out. If he’s a stray, there’s no one to pay for all that, or for his medicine.”

“And even if he does have an owner, they might not be able to afford the treatment.” Molly ran her hand over the cat’s caramel-coloured ears, looking sad.

“You mean, you might not be able to do the operation?” Helena whispered. “Even if it would make him better?”

“Of course we want to sort him out,” Molly explained. “He’s young enough to recover really well. But…”

“You have to!” Helena’s eyes filled with tears as she stroked the cat under the chin. “He’s so lovely. He nuzzled me… He’s trusting us to look after him!”

“I bet the PDSA would help look after him while he’s getting better,” Molly said, eyeing the cat thoughtfully. “They might cover the costs if we have to operate, too.” She crouched down to be eye to eye with the caramel cat, and gave a firm little nod. “We have to help him.”