The Killer Cat Runs Away

3

The Same Old Boring Cat-Chat

He was a whole lot crosser than I thought. I slipped out for a quick smell tour around the wheelie bins with Tiger and Bella and Snowball. But when I strolled back in, what should I come across but what he calls ‘a family conference’ and I call ‘The Same Old Boring Cat-Chat that I’ve heard over a thousand times’.

‘What shall we do about Tuffy?’

There they all were, huddled together in the living room: Old Mr Grumpy. The Kitten-Loving Queen. And Ellie.

I hung around outside the door, eavesdropping as usual.

‘So,’ says Mr Football-on-Telly-Addict-Gone-Mad, ‘I say that was the last straw, and we should find another home for Tuffy.’

Just like she always does, Ellie burst into tears. ‘No! No! You can’t! Tuffy’s my pet!’

Her mother usually sticks up for me. But not this time. ‘But he’s not safe with babies. Or with kittens.’

‘Or televisions,’ Ellie’s dad added bitterly, still harping on about his own sad loss.

Now Ellie stamped her foot. ‘But he’s my pet!’

That’s when her father turned even more cunning than usual. ‘Ellie, I know you’re very fond of Tuffy. But we could always find you another pet.’

‘Yes,’ said her mother. ‘One that’s a bit more gentle and doesn’t cause quite so much damage.’

‘Perhaps a kitten . . .’ said her dad.

‘Like Tinkerbell . . .’ her mother said hopefully.

‘But what about Tuffy?’ Ellie said through her tears. ‘What will happen to him?’

‘Oh, you know cats,’ said Mr Get-What-You-Want-Whichever-Sneaky-Way-You-Can. ‘They’re not like dogs. They don’t adore their owners. So long as they’re warm and comfy, and the grub’s good, cats can be happy anywhere. And there are plenty of other places Tuffy could go.’

I took a peek round the door and saw Ellie’s mother shaking her head at the pulled threads on her sofa where I like to scratch to keep my claws in trim. ‘Yes,’ she agreed. ‘Homes that are far more suitable than ours.’

‘That’s right,’ said Ellie’s father. ‘We’ll find a home where he’ll be just as happy.’

This is the moment when Ellie always hurls herself face down on the sofa, sobbing and wailing, and threatens to run away if they get rid of me, her precious pet. This is the moment when she’s supposed to shout at them: ‘If you don’t love dear Tuffy enough to keep him, then you don’t love me!’

But there was silence.

Just a long, long silence.

The longest silence ever.

I peered round the door again and couldn’t believe my eyes! Ellie was dashing away her tears and looking hopeful.

‘Really? Another home where Tuffy will be just as happy?’

‘That’s right!’ said Mr I-Never-Did-Like-That-Cat-Anyway.

‘And I could have another pet? A pretty kitten, just like Tinkerbell?’

‘Why not?’

Shall I tell you what I did then? I sat behind the door and waited. And I didn’t just wait. I counted to myself. One, two, three, four . . .

And would you like to know how long it took before Ellie burst into tears again and started sticking up for me?

It took eleven seconds! Can you believe it? Eleven whole seconds before that disloyal child finally remembered who is supposed to be her amazing, precious Tuffy. The Tuffy she even thinks she will be taking to the special ‘My Wonderful Pet’ show in her school hall next Thursday evening. (Ho, ho! She’ll be lucky!) The Tuffy she loves ‘so much and always have and always will, for ever and ever and ever’.

Eleven great long seconds!

What a cheek!