The Killer Cat's Birthday Bash

8: Here comes Ugly Club

HATE ME FOREVER if you like, but I’m still going to say it.

I hope your mum and dad keep you inside on Halloween!

And if you manage to nag them long enough to let you go out to show your brand-new monster mask to all the neighbours, I hope they’ve taught you how to shut a gate. The kids in our town must have let out every dog for miles around while they were Trick or Treating. By the time we cats sneaked out of the barn to get away from Buster and the terriers, the place was swarming with dogs of every shape and size and description, all running up to join the fray and all barking their heads off.

‘Hey, pussies! Don’t even bother trying to escape! We’re going to eat you up and spit you out as fur balls!’

‘Quick, Rusty! Head them off!’

‘Grrrrr!’

‘Max! Wolfie! Don’t let the wee sleekit beasties get away over that wall!’

I tell you, if I had known that I was going to have to leg it all the way back into town at that speed, I would never have finished up that tub of pâté.

Or the last three fish heads.

Or that cream puff.

We took the shortcuts, over the walls those four-footed slugs can’t jump. Most of my party guests peeled off as we shot past their homes.

‘Night, Tuff! Thanks for an ace bash!’

‘Volcanic night, Tuff! See you around!’

‘Roll on same time next year!’

By the time we turned the corner into our street, there were only me, Bella and Tiger left.

Bella glanced back over her shoulder to check for dogs. ‘I think we lost the dandruffy little creeps.’

‘Way, way behind,’ agreed Tiger. We skidded to a halt in front of my house and stared. The place was humming – bursting with party people. We could see them all through the windows, holding their glasses high, and talking and laughing.

We watched for a moment, and then I asked the other two, ‘What do you reckon? There’s bound to be someone in there who’s allergic to cats. We could have a good laugh. Shall we creep in?’

But they were no longer looking at the people inside the house. Tiger and Bella were staring at the big bright circle thrown on the house wall by our brand-new floodlight.

‘Groovy!’ said Bella.

‘Seriously cool,’ Tiger agreed.

I looked at the gleaming ring of light.

‘It is good, isn’t it?’ I found myself admitting.

‘Hey!’ Tiger said. ‘We mustn’t waste it. Let’s play Guess the Shadow.’

‘Me first!’ insisted Bella.

Standing beside the little floodlight set in the grass, she stuck out her tail and curled it round, till just the tip was sticking up at the top.

Sure enough, inside the circle of light on the wall of our house fell an enormous shadow.

‘A Mister Softee ice cream?’ guessed Tiger.

‘Dog doodoo!’ I suggested.

I won that round. Then it was Tiger’s turn. He stepped in front of the floodlight and curled himself into a perfect oval. When he was steady, he stuck the very tips of his paws out at the top.

Bella and I stared at the silhouette he’d made on the wall.

‘A sack of coal?’ suggested Bella.

‘Two slugs having a race down a rubbish bag’ was my guess.

I think we might have stood there guessing all night. (It was an owl.) But just at that moment the hysterical barking and baying noise that had been getting closer and closer finally came round the corner.

‘Oh, oh!’ said Tiger, hastily unravelling himself. ‘Game over. Here comes Ugly Club.’

‘No, no,’ I reassured him. ‘None of that pack of ratbags is fit enough to jump over our fence. We’re perfectly safe.’

Forget playing Guess the Shadow. Let’s play Guess Who Was Superwrong.

Yes. That’s right. Me.

Because that rattlesnake-eyed Alsatian who thinks she’s such a star for winning gold cups at the Dog Agility Class swept over the fence, screeched to a halt, then, getting up on her hind legs, jammed her paw down on the gate latch.

And suddenly every dog in town was in our garden.

Ugly Club had arrived.