The Brave Kitten

“But we can’t… We don’t have anywhere to keep him.”

“We do, Mum! In here – in the kitchen would be all right. He couldn’t jump on the counter. We could put a blanket in that space under the counter for him, with his food bowls and litter tray, and I promise I’d clean it out, always.”

“I can come and check on him, Clare, at lunch time,” Gran suggested.

Helena’s mum frowned, looking round at her little kitchen.

“He can’t go to Lucy’s house, Mum,” said Helena. “And he’ll be miserable at the shelter, I know he will. No one’s come to claim him, even though we put posters up all round where we found him, and in the vet’s window. He’s been in the local paper today, with a message saying to ring the surgery, but no one has yet. Maybe his owner will see the photo, but he was so thin, Lucy thinks that could mean he’s been a stray for a while. I want to be able to look after him. It feels like I have to, since I was the one who found him.”

Her mum was silent for a moment, then she turned round to look at her. “I suppose not. Oh, Helena. It’s going to be a lot of work, you know. But I am proud of you.”

“You mean … yes?” Helena asked, confused. She’d expected to have to beg for an awful lot longer than that. And even then, deep down, she’d been almost certain that her mum would never agree.

“Yes. I mean, we’d have to give him back, if his real owner contacted the surgery, but yes. Do you think he could stay at the vet’s until the weekend?” her mum asked. “Then we’d have two whole days to get him used to being at our house, before we have to leave him on his own.”

The cat was sitting up the next afternoon when Helena brought her mum to meet him. He peered out of the cage bars, waiting for her. He could hear her talking to someone in the next room, and she sounded excited and happy. She had brought him cat treats the last time she came, fishy ones that he liked. And sometimes she opened the front of the cage and sat for ages, stroking his fur and murmuring to him. She made him feel safe. Even when he was stuck here in this place that wasn’t his home, and he could smell the dogs at the other end of the room.

He sat up, wondering if perhaps she’d let him out of the cage this time. He could sit on her, and then she’d be able to stroke him better and rub his ears.

When he saw the girl come in, he skittered nervously back, knocking his cast against the floor of the cage. She wasn’t on her own – the young woman was with her, the one he saw every day, and someone else, too.

“It’s all right,” Helena murmured. “This is my mum. We’ll be taking you home to our house soon…”

The caramel cat didn’t know what Helena was saying, but he liked hearing her soft voice. And the other person spoke softly, too.

“He’s beautiful, Helena. Even more than in the photos. What are we going to call him? Or have you named him already?”

Helena opened the door of the cage, and the cat stepped out slowly, sniffing at her outstretched hand. She rubbed the dark caramel stripes between his ears, and smiled at her mum.

“I haven’t really named him. But when I think about him, I call him the cat with the caramel fur. Do you think we could call him Caramel?”

“We’re here!” Helena said gratefully, turning round to peer at the crate strapped into the back seat. Caramel had been howling dismally ever since Mum drove off. He clearly hated the crate, and didn’t like the feeling of the moving car at all.

“Do you think being in a car reminds him of the accident?” she asked her mum worriedly.

“No – I think all cats hate being in boxes. Shut in them, I mean. They like getting in by themselves.” Her mum turned off the engine, and looked round, too. “Even when he’s been in the cage at the vet’s for a whole week, it’s not the same. He can’t see out of that travelling basket very well. He’ll be much better when we let him into the kitchen.”

“It’ll probably feel huge,” Helena agreed, opening her door and going to get the basket out of the back. “We’re here, Caramel. This is your house now, too. Just your kitchen for the minute, though. But Molly says you’ll be able to have the plaster off in about three more weeks, since you’re still a kitten, and you’ll heal quicker than a big cat.” She carried the box into the house as she chatted to him, and her mum came in behind her, shutting the door of their little kitchen. There were only the worktops in there, and the oven and the fridge, and Helena was almost sure Caramel wouldn’t be able to jump up on those. So it was a safe place to keep him.

“Look,” she said gently, unlatching the top of the box and taking it off, so Caramel could decide to come out when he wanted to. “There’s a special soft basket for you. And a litter tray. And I’ll get you some food.”

They had gone to the pet shop the night before and got it all – the travel box, and the cushiony basket, and the food bowls. It had been so exciting. Helena had looked at cat toys as well, but they hadn’t bought any, not for the moment. They were all designed for chasing and rolling and batting with paws, and Caramel needed to stay quiet and rest. Helena promised herself she’d go back, once he was better.

Caramel sat pressed against the back of the crate, looking around suspiciously. He hadn’t understood what was happening when they’d lifted him out of the cage and into this horrible little box. Then he’d thought that perhaps they were going home. It had been such a long time since he’d been there.

He hunched his shoulders, ears laid back, and watched Helena and her mum both watching him. But they were quiet and still, and no one was grabbing at him. The fur along his spine flattened down a little and he padded his paws thoughtfully into the blanket. Then he sniffed and shook his ears, standing up a bit lopsided. This wasn’t his old house, of course. But it smelled good. Not like the surgery, full of sharp strong smells that hurt his nose. This place smelled of the girl, and food. He lurched out of the basket, his plastered leg tangling in the blanket, and set out to explore.

“I thought he was never going to come out,” Helena breathed to her mum, watching Caramel sniff the doors of the cupboards.

“I know. Why don’t you put some food down for him?”

Helena stood up. She tried to do it very carefully and slowly, but Caramel still flinched back against the cupboards when he saw her move. It made her want to cry. “It’s all right. I was just getting you some breakfast,” she murmured. “Lucy said she didn’t feed you this morning, just in case you were sick in your basket.”

She fetched one of the tins out of the cupboard and pulled up the ring on the lid. Then she laughed as Caramel hurried across the kitchen floor, his plastered leg knocking on the tiles. “You sound like a pirate cat, with a wooden leg,” she told him, as she put the bowl down.

“I’m so glad he’s eating,” her mum said, leaning against the counter to watch him.

“I know – I was worried he’d be too upset being in a new place,” Helena agreed. “But look at him, he’s wolfing that down.” She stood up, putting an arm round her mum. “Thanks for letting us have him.”

“You’re not disappointed?” Mum asked. “I mean – it’s not like having a normal cat. He’s not very friendly. And he can’t sleep on your bed or anything like that.”

Helena shrugged. “I know. But he will be able to one day. And I know he’s not that friendly yet, but think how special it will be when he is.”

She crouched down again to watch Caramel licking out his food bowl. He’d definitely got his appetite back, and he was making sure to get every last morsel of food. He stood up again, rather clumsily, and licked his whiskers.