The Killer Cat's Christmas

3: ‘The whole of Christmas in a cattery!’

IT WOKE ME up, though, all that boohooing from Ellie’s mum. Then Mr Grumpy rushed up the stairs to find out what was going on, and things turned nasty. There were some harsh words.

‘You furry vandal!’ Ellie’s father snarled. ‘You foul and spiteful beast!’

I played it cool, raising an eyebrow at him.

He hates it when I put on my ‘not bothered’ look, and flick my tail at him. ‘Look what you’ve done!’ he fumed. ‘You’ve turned a beautiful and expensive frock into a filthy rag!’ He waved it in my face. ‘Look at it! Torn to shreds!’

Now Ellie had arrived, with Lucilla and Lancelot in tow. They all stuck up for me. ‘Oh, please don’t blame Tuffy!’ begged Lancelot.

‘He didn’t mean to spoil the frock!’ insisted Lucilla.

‘He’s just unsettled from having visitors,’ Ellie explained to her father.

But Mr Blame-The-Cat-For-Everything was not having that. He wagged his telling-off finger. ‘Don’t you believe it! This whiskery little waster knows full well what he’s about. And I tell you this house would be a far, far better place if we just made the sensible decision to ask the vet to simply –’

I didn’t catch the last few words. Ellie had let out a fearsome screech, and clapped her hands over my ears.

I wriggled free in time to hear the end of his next threat: ‘– or spend the whole of Christmas in a cattery!’

Up came Ellie’s hands again. This time, when I tugged back my head enough to hear, the only words I caught were: ‘– in some strong cage!’

Ellie was almost in tears. And so were Lancelot and Lucilla.

‘Oh, please don’t say that, Uncle George!’

‘No, don’t say that!’

But Ellie’s father was still in a rage. ‘Well, it’s my view that –’

‘No!’ Ellie cried. ‘We three will look after Tuffy! You needn’t worry. We’ll keep him well away from you.’

Her father was still scowling. ‘And well away from all the clothes in the cupboards? And the tree? And all the food? And all the presents and the decorations?’

‘Yes! Tuffy won’t spoil anything, I promise!’

Ellie pounced on me. And since for once I felt I would be safer out of there, I let her scoop me up and carry me off, down to the living room, well away from Mrs Still-Red-And-Weepy-Eyes, clutching the torn shreds of her ruined frock, and Mr Total-Grump.