by Alan Dapré
To Lesley, Sarah, Cathy, Cath, Margaret, Libby & Sue – and awesome aunties everywhere! – A.D.
To my family – with love! – Y.S.
Contents
Title Page
Dedication
1 MOGnificent Me
2 One Lunchtime…
3 Any Moment
4 Flash And Grab
5 Lots Of Spots
6 Lots Of Pots!
7 Something’s Up
8 A Short Chapter…
9 Told You It Was Short!
10 The Town Hall
11 The Obstacle Course, Of Course
12 It Wasn’t
13 It’s A Cat Fling
14 Taken For A Ride?
15 A Sticky Trick
16 The Great Scottish Show-Off
17 Wash And Go
18 Pretty As A Picture
19 Haste Ye Back
20 All Change
21 Cat Has Trophy
22 In A Big Flap
Copyright
1
MOGnificent Me
Hi, it’s time for another tartan tale all about me!
Plus a pesky guest called Auntie Hettie and her pampered pooch Fluffy-Wuff. We all end up at a pet show – showing off! Speaking of showing off, I’m the only cat with a MOGnificent tartan coat.
Once upon a tin…
I fell in.
Me-splosh!
I fell into a tin of tartan paint!
Och, I do lots of suPURR silly things – like playing in a box, juggling mice and balancing on one tail. Sometimes I do them all at once!
Me-wow!
I also love to go on adventures with the McFun twins, Isla and Ross. We’re a great team. I keep them out of mischief – and they keep me out of tins of tartan paint! Afterwards, I cat-a-log everything that’s happened into a brawsome book, just like this one.
I’ve only just finished writing it, so be careful when you turn the page. The ink might be a wee bit wet!
Me-drip!
2
One Lunchtime…
…I heard the letter box go
Ka-lunk!
I didn’t budge. I stayed in my basket while the twins scampered off on their four legs – like a daft dug! – to fetch mail.
“Mum, it’s for you,” said Ross, bringing back an envelope.
“Ooh, this looks interesting,” oohed Mum. She opened the envelope and unfolded a crumpled letter. After she read it, her face crumpled too.
“What’s wrong?” asked Isla.
“It’s from Auntie Hettie in the Highlands!” Mum groaned. “Look!”
She showed us some writing in big bold letters.
It’s true. Fluffy-Wuff hates cats. The last time he was here, I spent a week hiding in a wee shoebox no bigger than a wee shoebox. (Next time I’ll take the shoes out.) And another time that moochy pooch visited, I hid in the greenhouse behind a marrow called Hamish. (Dad always gives names to his plants. Except Daisy and Rose, who have them already.)
“All she ever talks about is that pampered poodle,” said Dad. “Auntie Hettie thinks Fluffy-Wuff is Top Dug.”
Och no, I am… even though I’m a cat.
“Yes she does,” said Ross, “and she’ll get even worse if he wins ‘Best Pet in Scotland’.”
Best Pest in Scotland, more like.
Everyone sat in silence. Except me. I sat in my comfy basket and noisily crunched a fishy biscuit.
Me-crunch!
No one said a word, not even “Pass the tomato soup, please,” which is why there was lots of tomato soup still left in the pot after lunch.
Eventually Isla asked Mum, “Why do we have to call Auntie Hettie our auntie when she isn’t one?”
“Auntie Hettie is almost, sort of, like part of the family,” Mum rambled. “She’s, um, a bit like a big sister to me.”
(The last time Mum did that much rambling she had hiking boots on.)
“A very loud and very annoying big sister,” sighed Dad.
Mum nodded. “At school, Auntie Hettie made everyone run around after her all day – even the teacher. One day she was so tiring, poor Mr McFrazzle hid in the stock cupboard, pretending to be a pencil!”
“She thinks everything is a competition,” said Dad. “When you two had chicken pox, Auntie Hettie boasted she had turkey pox!”
Mmmm. Chicken.
Mmmm. Turkey.
“If you’ve broken two legs, she’s broken three,” said Mum. “Auntie Hettie has to win everything and she loves showing off.”
Aye, she’s always showing off Fluffy-Wuff! The last time they stayed, she made him wear a flashy collar. So flashy it needed ten batteries to light up all the bulbs!
I was just about to tear Auntie Hettie’s envelope into confetti (it’s a scratchy cat thing) when Isla spotted an inky postmark on the front. “Oh no! This letter was posted two weeks ago!”
Ross groaned. “That means Auntie Hettie could arrive at any…
Ding-dong!
…moment!”
DING-DONG!
3
Any Moment
When Mum opened the door we didn’t see anyone, just a big pile of bags. I ginger-ly squeezed past (even though I’m tartan) and saw Auntie Hettie jogging back up the path with lots more luggage.
There was no sign of Fluffy-Wuff.
“I RAN ALL THE WAY,” puffed Auntie Hettie.
“From the Highlands?” gasped Dad.
“FROM THE GATE!” yelled the pesky guest, as her taxi zoomed off. Auntie Hettie was VERY LOUD!!! All the time.
“Would you like to come in?” asked Mum.
“NOT YET,” replied Auntie Hettie, littering her luggage all over the lawn.
“What are you doing?” asked Ross.
“I’M CREATING AN OBSTACLE COURSE, OF COURSE! SO FLUFFY-WUFF CAN PRACTISE HIS SPECTACULAR PET SHOW SKILLS! MY DARLING DUG MUST BE IN TIP-TOP CONDITION FOR THIS AFTERNOON’S COMPETITION.”
Hmmm. There was still no sign of Fluffy-Wuff. But Auntie Hettie had a fluffy towel draped around her neck.
Me-suspicious…
“Where is Fluffy-Wuff?” wondered Isla.
Auntie Hettie lifted the white towel off her shoulders and placed it on the grass. It opened its eyes and yapped! It wasn’t a towel; it was Fluffy-Wuff! Her pampered pooch!
“STRETCH YOUR LEGS AND RUN ABOUT!” commanded Auntie Hettie.
Fluffy-Wuff stretched and gave a yawn, then padded slowly across the lawn. He clambered over boxes and shuffled around suitcases.
“If he walks any slower he’ll start going backwards,” giggled Ross.
“HE’S JUST WARMING UP!” said Auntie Hettie.
As Fluffy-Wuff made his way wearily past the front door, I sat in front of a big tartan bag so I’d be completely camouflaged from top to tail.
Me-hide!
Suddenly ma hungry tum began to rumble.
Me-oops!
I’d only had 327 fishy biscuits for breakfast.
Och, if it carried on grumbling I’d be spotted (even though I’m tartan). I rummaged in ma coat and pulled out an emergency fishy biscuit. The tasty treat was old and whiffy.
There’s something fishy going on beside those bags, said Fluffy-Wuff, sniffily.
But he said it in Dug language so no one else heard and I munched the evidence.
Me-crunch! Me-crunch!
A bit too loudly.
Fluffy-Wuff barked: Fancy that! It’s a baggy old cat!
Charming!
I scrambled up the side of a big pile of bags.
Och – I stumbled – and everything tumbled.
Me-oops!
I dropped onto
a soft suitcase… and was CATapulted into the ’orrible obstacle course. Fluffy-Wuff woofed and gave chase!
I bounced on some boxes and soared over a suitcase. Ten times faster than the hound on the ground.
Auntie Hettie was surprised to see me so speedy: “I THOUGHT THAT CAT WAS SLOW AND GREEDY!”
Double charming!
I boinged on a big bag and landed…
Me-phew!
…in Isla’s handy goalie glove.
“Great catch!” said Ross.
“Nice of you to drop in.” Isla grinned.
Fluffy-Wuff stood in a huff, all out of puff. Auntie Hettie scooped him up and soon he was just a fluffy white towel again.
“I’m the best,” growled the towel.
“I don’t think so,” I purred. “Everyone knows cats are better than towels, I mean, dugs.”
“There’s only one way to prove it,” said the towel with a scowl. “Enter the Best Pet Show this afternoon! Or are you a big scaredy-cat?”
Nope! I’ve faced lots of frightening things. Awfully scary wolves, horribly sneaky spies and – worst of all! – terribly empty food bowls.
Me-shudder!
But the talkative towel was gone. Auntie Hettie was jogging inside, with Fluffy-Wuff wrapped around her neck again.
“What shall we do with your things?” called Dad. There were bags of bags all over the grass.
The pesky guest’s voice echoed down the hallway. “BRING THEM IN!” she boomed. “AFTER THAT, GET RID OF THAT TROUBLESOME CAT!”
I looked around. There was no sign of a meddling moggy.
“She means you,” whispered Isla.
Triple charming!
Me-grr!
4
Flash And Grab
Isla carried me into the kitchen and I looked for somewhere to hide from our pesky guests.
“Pretend to be a tartan cushion,” said Ross. So I did. I’m ever so very good at it. I bet you can’t tell which one of these cushions is me.
We watched Auntie Hettie jog around the kitchen, proudly showing off her flashy tracksuit. Its wee bulbs sparkled and shone like stars.
“IT’S THE ONLY ONE EVER MADE,” she boasted. “APART FROM ALL THE OTHERS IN THE SHOP.”
Auntie Hettie jogged over to the twins. She held out her arms and said, “I’VE GOT SOMETHING FOR YOU.” It was a big bear hug! I can’t bear bear hugs (I’m only a wee kitty cat). Poor Ross and Isla were squeezed like a pair of lemons.
The pesky guest boomed: “NOW I’M HERE WE CAN HAVE LOTS OF FUN FUN FUN!”
Och, I’d rather have lots of FISHY FISHY FISHY BISCUITS.
Just after this comma, Auntie Hettie bent down beside my basket. “ONCE I’VE GOT RID OF THE SAGGY CUSHION THIS WILL BE PERFECT FOR FLUFFY-WUFF.” She prodded the cushion. (Me!)
Me-owch!
Then she picked it (me) up. I was rudely dropped on the floor as Fluffy-Wuff plopped in my basket (which sounds stinky but wasn’t).
What a rotten, awful, so-rotten-I’ll-say-it-again, rotten thing to do! A cat basket is for moggies, not doggies.
Me-grumble!
But Fluffy-Wuff heard my grumble: I was rumbled!
“You’re not a lumpy cushion,” he woofed. “You’re lumpy Porridge!”
I sprang to ma feet and yowled (in dodgy Dug language), Bed out of my get!
“THIS MEWLING MOGGY IS UPSETTING MY PET!” roared Auntie Hettie. “FLUFFY-WUFF MUST BE KEPT CALM BEFORE THE SHOW. THAT MEANS NO NOISE IN THIS HOUSE – AND NO CATS!”
Auntie Hettie patted her moochy pooch. “IT’S BEST THAT YOU REST. NO SCAMPERING FOR YOU, JUST PAMPERING,” she cooed like a pigeon.
Mmmm. Pigeon.
Before you could say ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ, Fluffy-Wuff was fast asleep – in MY basket!
5
Lots Of Spots
Mum and Dad staggered into the kitchen with bags and bags of bags.
“TAKE THEM UPSTAIRS TO THE BIGGEST BEDROOM,” said Auntie Hettie. “A GUEST MUST GET THE BEST!”
“But that’s our room,” groaned Mum, looking at Dad.
“SLEEP ANYWHERE YOU WISH, BUT NOT IN FLUFFY-WUFF’S BASKET,” said Auntie Hettie.
It’s MY basket!
“Don’t worry, Porridge,” whispered Isla, as Mum and Dad followed Auntie Hettie upstairs. “Tonight you can sleep on my bed and stay out of her way.”
Me-phew
In the morning I’ll dash downstairs to see if the Fishy Biscuit Fairy has been in the night! Claws crossed.
I leapt onto the table and clumsily clattered a ladle.
Me-oops
It splattered tomato soup all over Fluffy-Wuff, flecking his fur with big red dots.
“OH NO!” cried the twins.
Hearing the cry, Mum and Dad rushed in, followed by a horrified Auntie Hettie.
“SPOTS!” she spluttered, waggling a fearty finger at sleeping Fluffy-Wuff.
“Is it measles?” asked Mum.
“IT’S FLEASLES!” sobbed Auntie Hettie. “A DREADFUL DISEASE FROM FRIGHTFUL FLEAS! IF MY SPOTTED DUG IS SPOTTED AT THE BEST PET SHOW, HE’LL BE DISQUALIFIED! ALL BECAUSE OF THAT FLUFFY FLEASOME FELINE!”
Me-scratch!
I couldn’t help it! Whenever I think of fleas I start to scratch. (It’s a scratchy cat thing.)
“SEE? HE’S GOT FLEAS!”
Her sudden shout made everyone jump, especially Fluffy-Wuff, who jolted awake and landed SPA-LOOOSH in my water bowl with a startled bow-wow-wow!
A wave of wet stuff sploshed away some of the soupy spots, worse luck.
Fluffy-Wuff grumpily shook himself dry.
(Sorry if he made this page a bit soggy.)
Auntie Hettie bent closer. “THEY’RE NOT SPOTS… THEY’RE SPLOTS OF TOMATO SOUP!”
The pesky guest saw red: a red paw print on the table – made by a clumsy tartan cat! She glared at my scarlet paws and roared, “OCH, IT’S A GROTTY SPOTTY PLOT BY PORRIDGE TO STOP FLUFFY-WUFF FROM WINNING THE SHOW.”
I jumped back and accidentally bumped the big soup pot with ma bahookie!
Flip-a-tip!
One sentence later, Fluffy-Wuff was completely covered in sloppy-ploppy soup!
“I look silly,” he barked, going red, not that you could tell – he was all red already. The soup pot sat on his head like a hat. Auntie Hettie turned to the twins with the grumpiest look in this book.
“THAT TARTAN CAT HAS GOT TO GO!”
“Go to the Best Pet Show?” asked Ross, with a mischievous grin. “NO, NO, NO!” roared Auntie Hettie. “TARTAN CATS CAN’T ENTER. THEY ONLY ACCEPT TABBY CATS!”
She plucked a long list of rules from her pocket.
Me-suspicious!
She began to fuss over Fluffy-Wuff. “MY POOR DUG IS COVERED IN SOUP! YOU’LL HAVE TO GET SOMETHING TO CLEAN UP THIS GLOOP!”
Nice rhyme!
“We’ll have to clean your paws too, Porridge,” Isla said softly.
Och, I can do that.
Me-lick!
“Do you want to go to the Best Pet Show today?” whispered Ross in a quiet voice that only I could hear and only you could read.
Oh yes. I wasn’t going to be left behind. I never like being left out. Especially at night – because I STILL HAVEN’T GOT A CAT FLAP!
Before the twins could say any more, Auntie Hettie shouted to them: “RUN UP UP UP TO MY ROOM AND BRING DOWN DOWN DOWN MY PRECIOUS PET PAMPERING PACK.”
“Okay, okay, okay,” they cried, darting off with me not far behind.
“Somehow we have to get you into the show, Porridge,” said Isla, as I hopped up the stairs.
“We could give you two long floppy ears and a carrot and pretend you’re a cute rabbit,” joked Ross.
Me-bunny?!
Not funny.
6
Lots Of Pots!
The door to Auntie Hettie’s borrowed bedroom was slightly open.
“It hasn’t shut properly since you clawed up the carpet,” sighed Isla.
(It’s a scratchy cat thing.)
Mum and Dad had left all of Auntie Hettie’s saggy bags in the middle of the room. I hopped onto the biggest bag.
BIG MISTAKE!
Ma claws caught in the zip!
Me-clumsy!
I suddenly slipped and the bag unzipped!
Bottles toppled and big tins clanged. Jars clattered and boxes banged.
Me-oops!
I’d accidentally opened Auntie Hettie’s precious PET PAMPERING PACK!
“I hope Auntie Hettie didn’t hear that,” said Isla. “The door’s ajar.”
“This is a jar too,” said Ross, picking up a wee container.
“What about this one?” said Isla, opening up a wee pot. “This’ll help Fluffy-Wuff if he’s feeling ruff.”
Ross waved another big bottle.
Auntie Hettie’s voice suddenly howled through the house like a hurricane. It shook lots of walls – and words!
“HURRY. HURRY. HURRY! THE BEST PET SHOW STARTS THIS AFTERNOON!”“We’d better put everything back in the bag,” said Isla. The twins ran around scooping up Fluffy-Wuff’s lotions and potions and tubs and tubes.
I couldn’t see any more things on the floor, but I could feel something under ma bahookie. I hopped off and discovered a jar with no lid.
“I wonder what this stuff does,” Isla said.
Ross looked inside and saw nothing.
“Maybe the cream has vanished,” he joked. Suddenly his smile flipped down into a frown. “Hey, Porridge! What’s happened to your tail?”
I looked round and saw nothing.
Me-GULP!
A whole load of NOTHING where ma tail should have been!
