Porridge the Tartan Cat Books 1 to 3

by Alan Dapré

  “That’s because she’s here,” whispered Vijay. “She can’t get enough of my brawsome beans.”

  The kids turned to see Windy Wendy sitting in the far corner, eating a bucket of beans. She had her sad face on, which was just like her happy face. And her grumpy face. And her I-can-juggle-frogs face…

  Vijay dropped his voice and his dishcloth: “If she’s lost in the pet shop, Mini Mum is in maximum danger. She might be chomped by a chameleon or flattened by a flatfish! Or worse – if Windy Wendy finds out she’s been trespassing in the shop!”

  “We need a way to get back inside,” said Ross.

  Just then, Windy Wendy waltzed around the tables towards the counter. “I’m the best waltzer in town,” she boasted. (Even though the one at the funfair was way better.)

  “Can I help you?” asked Vijay.

  “Bring me another bucket of beans!” she boomed, before turning to the twins with her sad face on. “What a pity you weans lost your tartan cat.”

  “We’ll find him,” said Ross firmly.

  Windy Wendy shrugged. She fished in her pocket and pulled out a wee bug. “Why not take home Buggy the poisonous fang bungler instead?”

  “That’s a squeaky dung beetle,” said Isla, who was wise in the ways of smelly six-legged insects.

  “Buggy just needs oiling,” fibbed Windy Wendy. “But beware! One bite and you will turn into a clumsy zombie.”

  Vijay skated over to Windy Wendy and said, “Please take these beans – and that bug – away. I don’t want any more beasties in my café.”

  He handed her a huge bucket, and threw open the door.

  Windy Wendy glared at the twins. “After ma lunch, I always have a wee nap. So the pet shop is shut until I wake up. No customers allowed – or I’ll create a big stink!”

  On her way out, Windy Wendy accidentally-on-purpose chucked Buggy on the floor.

  “Oopsie,” she giggled, waltzing off down the street… She still wasn’t the best waltzer in town.

  Wasting no time, Buggy scuttled into a hole in the wall. Wasting no thyme, Vijay skated over and plugged the hole with a clump of parsley.

  19

  Someone Should Write a Book About This

  “She’ll gobble those beans in a flash,” said Vijay, pleased with himself. “Beans make people sleepy. It won’t be long before we hear her snoring. I put in EXTRA beans to make her EXTRA sleepy.”

  Ross and Isla smiled at each other. This was their chance to find Mini Mum and look for more Porridgy clues.

  Me-phew.

  Just then, the twins heard squeaking from the hole in the wall. The squeaks grew louder.

  “Sounds like Buggy the poisonous fang bungler is back!” whispered Ross.

  The three of them crept towards the parsley-packed hole to listen.

  SCUTTLE SCUTTLE SCUTTLE…

  SQUEAK SQUEAK SQUEAK…

  …and got a huge shock when the six-legged mini-beast burst out with Mini Mum on his back! She was riding him as if he was a six-legged pony called Sparkle or Misty (not Buggy because that sounds like a pram).

  “Hi, twins!” she squeaked. Her wee trusty steed reared on two legs and neighed like a mouse.

  Mmmm. Mouse.

  “Well, blow me down with a wonky helicopter.” Vijay fell back in amazement and a chair. “It’s Mini Mum!”

  Everyone patted her head (and then washed their hands because she had been riding a really smelly dung beetle).

  “Where did you go?” asked Isla.

  “I saw a big sign on a wee WENDY, I mean, PORIDJ HOUSE,” she answered. “It was such a shock I fell out of your hood.”

  “Did you find Porridge?” asked Ross.

  “Yes, but he’s still trapped inside, guarded by crocodiles! I think Windy Wendy wants to keep him forever!”

  “Never!” said the twins together.

  “Forever!” repeated Mini Mum. “And it gets worse – there’s another cat in there and he’s dangerous.”

  “We have to save him quick,” said Ross. “But how?”

  “We work as a wee team.” Isla pulled a piece of super-short shortbread from her pocket.

  “You’ll be in big trouble if you eat that!” squeaked Mini Mum. “It’s very dangerous being wee. You might get chewed by a Chihuahua or squished by a squid!”

  “Too late,” said the twins, each taking a nibble of the rather incredible… and rather inedible… super-short shortbread.

  The twins let out a wee BURP! and SWOOSH! grew down instead of up.

  Within a minute they were minute.

  Vijay knelt down carefully and said, “While you’re gone, I’ll look in my old recipe books. I’ll cook up something special to get you three big again.”

  “This way, twins,” said Mini Mum. Her gallant steed rose on two legs and galloped bravely into the hole in the wall. The twins ran after her, their tiny footsteps echoing. Echoing. Echoing. Echoing…

  “Someone should write a book about this,” said Vijay, shaking his head in wonder…

  20

  Not A Pretty Sight

  Windy Wendy plonked herself in her favourite chair, hungry as a dustbin lorry.

  She tipped up the big bucket of beans and greedily guzzled them all in one go.

  SLOPPA-PLOPPA-GLOPP-GLOPP-GLOPPA!

  It was not a pretty sight, and I really hope the illustrator does not draw you a picture of it:

  Sorry about that.

  She ended her meal with a TRUMP-PA-RUMP! so terrifying that all the hedgehogs inside the shop went green, rolled into spiky balls and pretended to be conker cases. The WENDY PORIDJ HOUSE shuddered and its door slammed shut, jarring the bolt back into place.

  I was trapped inside with Moggiarty!

  Me-help!

  Lucky for me, he was still trapped under a mountain of fishy biscuits.

  Me-phew.

  “That was luvvalicious,” Windy Wendy cackled, picking her teeth with an unlucky stick insect. She glanced around the cluttered pet shop and grumbled. “I need more hippos and wasps and giraffes and extra hippos.”

  Carrot the parrot squawked glumly above her head. “And fewer parrots.” She rose from her chair and pulled a thick cover over his cage. Then she slumped back wearily and closed her tired eyes.

  A moment later she heard a squeak from the back of the room. It came from near the shadowy WENDY PORIDJ HOUSE. Och, the pet shop was always full of annoying animal noises.

  “Quiet. It’s ma naptime.” She sleepily launched a boot into the darkness.

  SPLABBA-BOING!

  It booted a hole through the boarded–up window of the WENDY PORIDJ HOUSE! The boot spun to a stop by the heap of fishy biscuits. Moggiarty wiggled his tail tip in disgust at the smell. The battered boot ponged like a year-old school dinner.

  Me-shudder!

  The wee house shuddered too. Windy Wendy was asleep and snoring so loudly that the whole shop rattled. Especially the rattlesnakes.

  I heard some more squeaking… it was Mini Mum!

  “I’m back with reinforcements,” she squeaked, climbing through the WENDY PORIDJ HOUSE window with the wee twins by her side.

  “We’ll soon get you out of here,” whispered Ross. “Once we get down.”

  “We’ll have to jump on the cushion,” said Isla. “One… two… three… Go!”

  They leaped all at once…

  BA-BOINGGG!

  My three would-be rescuers bounced off the cushion…

  …and tumbled inside Windy Wendy’s stinky tartan boot.

  Me-pooh!

  They staggered out, holding their breath… and a rusty key!

  “I banged my head on this,” grumbled Ross. “I wonder why it was in Windy Wendy’s boot?”

  I had definitely seen that key before – in Chapter 16. She’d plucked it from her boot to lock up the pet shop. I purred with happiness and told the twins we could work together to open the front door.

  (Unfortunately they can’t speak Cat. So I picked up the key and mimed opening a
big door and walking through. Then closing the door and walking home and eating a big bowl of fishy biscuits.)

  “A-ha! It must be the key for the shop door,” said Isla. “That means it’s the key to our escape!”

  “How do we reach the keyhole?” groaned Ross, rubbing his head.

  “Porridge could do it,” said Isla, as she dragged the heavy key onto the cushion.

  “He can’t leave the Wendy house, or we’ll all be eaten by crocodiles!” warned Mini Mum.

  I froze at the thought. Then I suddenly thawed and clawed at the collar until hot sparks flew off it.

  Me-sigh.

  It was still good as new.

  I slumped on my cushion, a fed-up feline, feeling sorry for myself.

  BURRRP!

  Everyone looked at the cat, still buried in stale fishy biscuits. We noticed his nose was poking out, as green as a poorly gooseberry. He had something to say. “I’ll help you escape, if you help me.”

  I had a wee think about that.

  One think later:

  NEVER!

  “You poor thing,” said Isla, walking over and stroking Moggiarty’s trapped tail. “This is no place for a handsome cat like you.”

  The grumpy, grey cat blinked in surprise. No one had ever said anything nice to Moggiarty before, probably because he was a grumpy grey cat. Isla tickled his chin and he trembled like an electric toothbrush.

  21

  Seeing Red

  “Please help me, Porridge,” pleaded Moggiarty. Isla’s kindness in the last chapter must have warmed his cold heart. “I don’t want to be in Windy Wendy’s pet shop any more. Free me now and we’ll give that big bag o wind a lesson she’ll never forget.”

  Me-OK.

  I dug like a DUG into the big heap of biscuits. (How uncool is that? Never tell anyone. Not even yourself.) By the end of this paragraph Moggiarty was free!

  Suddenly his eyes narrowed, and he sprang out through the broken window. Gone like the wind. If the wind was grey and had fur.

  “He’s going to tell Windy Wendy we’re here!” squeaked Mini Mum, diving for cover in my fur. The twins dived in too.

  “Porridge, can you escape through the window?” squeaked Ross, clinging on by my ear.

  I shook my head. Ma big bahookie would get stuck.

  Me-sigh.

  Then, just as suddenly as he had left, Moggiarty was back! He squeezed through the window and dropped onto my cushion.

  SNAP SNAP SNAP

  “Nae worries, it’s not the crocs,” said Moggiarty, seeing my furry frightened face. He held a snapping turtle close to my glowing green collar.

  SNAP!

  Its powerful jaws bit the collar in two.

  Me-phew!

  It fell from my neck and dropped onto my cushion… and I was free!

  Me-phew!

  But wait – the collar bounced again and dropped to a stop on the floor of the wee wooden house. It began to flash red for danger (and if you take away the d you get anger too).

  Me-oops!

  BLANG-A-LANG-A-DANG!

  An alarm bell rang and the floor tilted down. One turtle and two cats clung to the cushion, while the Wee Yins clung to me! Then the cushion started sliding like a sledge down the slope.

  Slowly…

  then faster…

  towards the cellar!

  I saw restless shapes splashing, yellow eyes flashing and sharp teeth clashing in the dank, dark water below.

  Save yourself! Turn the page!

  22

  Green Again

  The flashing red collar was sliding just ahead of us. Soon it would tumble among the crocs. Then we’d be next!

  Suddenly I had a brawsome idea.

  I curled my tail around the turtle. Then held it out as far as I could in front of us.

  Me-strreetccchhhhh!

  “Grab the flashing red collar, and make it snappy!” I said, totally talking Turtle.

  (It turtley understood me too!)

  SNAP!

  The collar was safely clamped in the turtle’s jaws. I hauled him back onto the cushion.

  Me-phew!

  The collar stopped flashing red and glowed green instead, making the floor tilt up suddenly, away from the crocodiles, who scowled at the thought of missing their lunch. And then they were gone.

  See you later, alligator. (Close enough.)

  We paused to hear if Windy Wendy had been awoken by the alarm, but she carried on snoring. We all lay panting on the lovely flat floor of the WENDY PORIDJ HOUSE.

  Me-pant pant pant.

  “Well done, everyone,” squeaked Mini Mum.

  Ahem. I was the hero. OK, with a wee bit of help from that turtle.

  Now I no longer had the horrid flashing collar locked around my neck, we could finally escape the pesky WENDY PORIDJ HOUSE. I put the rusty key in my mouth and yowled, “Letshh getshh outshh ofshh shhere.”

  But how?

  Moggiarty pointed to the window.

  “I’ll getshh shtuck,” I muttered.

  “Just do it,” he hissed. “And I’ll follow.”

  A moment later I was stuck! Most of me was out the wee house, but ma big bahookie was still inside!

  Told you!

  Not for long. Moggiarty picked up the snapping turtle and it BIT MY BAHOOKIE!

  SNAP!

  Me-OWWWWWWWWW!

  I flew through the air like a furry football and splat-flat-cat-landed in Windy Wendy’s lap.

  She woke with a jump. And a terrible TRUMP-PA-RUMP!

  The big blustery blast blew her onto her feet. I flew up, up, up off her lap and clawed the parrot cage! Windy Wendy didn’t see me hanging above her head. Instead, she saw Moggiarty, halfway out of the WENDY PORIDJ HOUSE.

  Me-gulp.

  “I’m fed up with you, Moggiarty!” She strode over, grabbed her boot and snatched the cat. “Soon my piranhas will be fed up with you too.”

  Moggiarty swung upside-down as she clomped across the pet shop. He saw everything the wrong way up, except for the bats, who were the right way down.

  “Oopsie. I forgot to feed these hungry fishes yesterday.” Windy Wendy dangled poor Moggiarty over the piranha tank.

  She forgot something else too: to look up!

  23

  Bite Like A Crocodile

  There was only one way to save Moggiarty. I let go of the parrot cage…

  …and dropped on Windy Wendy, bahookie first. She fell backwards and I squashed her flat like a pressed flower (probably a stinkwort).

  “I thought you loved me, Porridge!” she wailed. Her arm stuck out, still clutching a grey cat. With the other arm she flung me away from her.

  I said nothing. I still had the pet-shop key in my mouth, remember?

  Let me go, hissed Moggiarty, but he was still on the pesky piranha menu.

  “Once I’ve fed Moggiarty to the fish I’ll see if they like Porridge too.” Windy Wendy staggered to her feet and swaggered back to the piranha tank. She dangled Moggiarty over the side, just inches from a sea of snapping jaws.

  I tucked the key into my collar and yowled, No, you don’t!

  I thundered across the room, zinging and springing from cage to cage. When the animals saw me they roared with delight. Windy Wendy gulped hard.

  Bite like a crocodile… spring like a flea!

  Me-smoosh!

  (I bit her bahookie.)

  OW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOWTCH!

  Windy Wendy threw her hands in the air – and Moggiarty too!

  As he flew overhead, I held up the key. He grabbed it, slotted it skilfully in the door lock, and…

  SKLUNK-KER-LIKKK

  Moggiarty swung on a heavy handle and dropped to the floor. The shop door creaked open and BASHED Windy Wendy’s bahookie again!

  OW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOWTCH!

  The Wee Yins clambered onto my back and watched in amazement as Windy Wendy tottered and spun into a stack of fat sacks, then skidded sideways and knocked open a trunk of skunks.

  All at once, a
bad stink filled the air and the skunks blamed it on Windy Wendy, even though it was probably one of them.

  Me-pong!

  Next, a crate of chickens crashed to the ground and the birds broke free. Soon the pet shop was a flurry of feathers and fur and ants and antlers and whiskers and husks and tusks and bugs and slugs and…

  It was time to go. The sunny pavement looked warm and inviting. I darted forward…

  “Where do you think you are going?” Windy Wendy blocked the doorway with her bruised bahookie. “Get back in your WENDY PORIDJ HOUSE or I’ll squash you flat with this baby hippo.”

  (She was actually holding a baby walrus, but it wasn’t the right time to correct her.)

  I felt a wee tug on my right ear.

  “Let’s get rid of that big old meanie!” said Ross.

  “She can’t hold us all in!” Isla shouted. “Let’s start a stampede!”

  We ran around the room opening cages, then, like speedy sheepdugs, we herded the animals towards Windy Wendy and the open door. All the creatures were hungry for food and revenge…

  Mmmm. Food.

  Windy Wendy squawked in terror and tumbled backwards onto the tortoise, who carried her through the door, really, really, really, really, really slowly. Squawking parrots and parakeets pecked at the petrified pet-shop owner, while the rest of the animals followed the tortoise out into the sunshine.

  Me-phew!

  “Get back inside!” screeched Windy Wendy. “What have I ever done tae you?”

  Locked us all up, Moggiarty hissed. But not any more!

  An army of animals chased her down the street. They were all free as birds now – especially the birds.