The Killer Cat Runs Away

18

All the Usual Rubbish

The children all rushed off into the school. Then, through the tangles of woolly bits, I saw Ellie’s head teacher. She was hurrying out to greet Arif.

‘There you are! I was just getting worried. Everyone’s here, with their pets. I’ve even brought my parrot Gregory to be part of the display. And all the children are keen to listen to your little talk about how important it is to care for animals properly.’

Yes, I thought bitterly. Care for them properly. Not swing them about in a cage.

Arif only grinned. ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘It took a bit of time to lug this great big lump all the way from the park.’

Did you hear that? ‘Great big lump’. Nice!

The head teacher was in too much of a hurry to bother to peer through the strands of tangled wool and take a look at me. So we went into the school hall together. Arif the Insensitive, Ellie’s parrot-loving head teacher. And me.

Arif dumped my cage on the table, beside a few other pets. I took a look along the line. Pathetic! A couple of scaredy-baby mice who cowered in their cage. (I only looked at them. I did not pretend to grab.) A bowl of brainless fish scooped out of the garden pond by that rough carrot-top gang. (The boy who’d tried to catch me was still sucking his scratches, I was glad to see.) A rabbit so old it was nearly dead. Gregory the Parrot. (At least, I guessed it was him. His cage was covered with a cloth.) A guinea pig or two. A snake. A family of hamsters. Some stupid dog that wasn’t even half my size. Two whimpering gerbils.

All the usual rubbish.

Well, I consoled myself, at least I’m bound to be Star of the Show. After all, Arif was giving the talk and he’d brought me. He must have thought that cats were something special.

And then Arif started, lifting up each cage and bowl and box in turn along the line. He praised the fish: ‘Nobody’s overfed these so they’re in quite splendid condition.’ He cooed over the gerbils: ‘Lovely cuddly things, but you must handle them gently.’ Dogs: ‘It is so important to train them properly.’

Bleh, bleh, bleh. On and on and on about how to care for your pets. (Try this, Arif! Don’t swing them in a cage!) His talk was so, so boring. All that stuff you’ve heard a million times before about keeping the cage clean, and making sure all these pathetic pets who can’t look after themselves have nice, fresh water. (Tip from myself. Save all the trouble. Get a cat!)

I could have yowled. But I was determined not to make a single kittenish mew in case he got annoyed and shoved me under the table, out of sight. You see, I hoped that, even though Ellie wasn’t there, when Arif finally got to my cage and pulled off the tangles of wool, someone else from Acacia Avenue would recognize me and shout, ‘Catnapper! That is Ellie’s cat! You have to give him back!’

Then I’d be rescued.

At last it was my turn. Arif tugged all the bits of wool away from the wires of the cage so everyone could see me better. And then he held me up.

‘See?’ he said, shaking his head in sorrow. ‘See what can happen if you aren’t careful?’

I blinked. Sorry?

He kept on. ‘Take this cat here. He’s obviously been brought up in a good family. His fur is thick and glossy. His eyes are bright. His paws are in excellent condition.’

Well, thank you, Arif. Thank you for pointing out the obvious. I am a fine, fine specimen of a cat.

‘But,’ said Arif.

Excuse me? But?

I turned my head to stare. Would you believe it? He had the nerve to carry on.

‘But this pet is the perfect example of what we all want to avoid in our pets. This cat has been allowed to let himself go. Recently he has been horribly, horribly overfed, and doesn’t it show?’

He swung the cage around so that everyone could gawp at me! Cheek! I know Ms Whippy’s pedal bin is a fine cornucopia of splendid grub; but surely no cat can put on that much weight in a few days . . .

Surely . . .

You wouldn’t think so to listen to Arif. He was still swinging me about. ‘Look at the size of him! Just look! No doubt this feline fellow has always teetered on the edge of getting tubby. But take a proper look. The cat inside this cage is a dire warning of what can happen if you don’t keep tabs on your pet’s diet. I hate to say it, but this cat is downright fat.’