For a while old Mags and Ben would bring food and leave it for the vixen down by the tall grasses at the edge of the cliff.Soon the cubs grew healthy and strong and were very playful. The vixen did not become tame or mix with the other animals, but one day, she came over to speak to Caesar, who immediately started to shake his multi-coloured feathers, which puffed out and he ran to the back of Mags’ caravan. It was Rhona who stood her ground the other chickens behind her.
“What do you want, fox?” she said.
“I have not come to harm you,” replied the fox. “My name is Freda and I am grateful to this community for helping me. We are going now, but word will get round to all the other foxes to not harm you chickens, goodbye,” and with that she trotted over to the tall grasses, collected her cubs and they were gone.
Caesar’s cockscomb appeared round the back of the caravan, “Ha… s-she… gone,” he said in a shaky voice. Mabel, who was a rather naughty chicken, had crept round the back of the caravan until she was behind Caesar. She then, in her loudest cluck said, “BOO!” to which Caesar jumped high into the air and ran as fast as his legs could carry him, squawking all the way back to their barn. All the chickens collapsed and fell about in helpless laughter. All the humans could hear was wild squawking and they all ran out towards the barn g just in time to see the fox leaving.
“Where is she going, Mummy?” said Mariella.
“Well probably to find other foxes to live with; her cubs are now big and so they will leave her soon,” replied Sonia.
“We helped them, didn’t we, Mummy?”
“Yes we did, darling, I think we did.”
“Bye, bye, lady fox and little foxes.” Mariella waved and Elliot waved and Freda seemed to stop for just a moment to look back and then she was gone. And that is why the chickens in the caravan park now live safely and freely.
All in all, the family and old Mags rub along peacefully together and Elliot and Mariella love to go and play in her caravan. They are both fascinated by old Mags’ one tooth which she sucks on whilst singing her old traveller songs to them and dancing around the caravan, twirling round and round. The children can often be heard laughing and screeching with delight, Mags will often look after the children, and in return Ben and Sonia will fetch shopping, oil for heating and straw for Malachi, often with an extra treat such as apples or carrots added. Old Malachi will accept the treats from the children’s hands and then will say, “Hurmph!” and walk off, whisking his tail. As for Fergus, his favourite place is sitting on the caravan steps on a piece of old carpet. His human, old Mags looks after him very well; she cooks everything in a big pot either on the oil stove or outside on a log fire. Fergus never knows what will go in the pot and he has grown up with potatoes and greens and lots of different scraps and tit-bits thrown in, but his all-time favourite is a lovely piece of boiled ham hock. Fergus is like old Mags, sleek with not an ounce of fat on him. He is twenty-five years old, old for a cat but he is still lithe though not as fast as he used to be. He is pure black in colour and, like Mags, has only a couple of teeth left. Several years ago when the caravan park was busy and old Mags told fortunes, she would put a kerchief round his neck, a bright red and blue one. Fergus still wears it today so everyone knows he is a ‘gypsy cat’ who knows a great deal about the future, who can read paws and who always has at least one eye open all the time. Fergus knows there are lots of adventures, to be had here in Butterwick!
For as long as anyone can remember the strays and lost cats of Britain would somehow make their way to Butterwick, not all arrived, some managed to find homes along the way and some gave up trying to get to Butterwick and went back the way they came. The ones that did arrive would end up on the old fairground and caravan site. There are lots of cats living all around the site, we can just get to know some of them and join them in their escapades! Most of the cats in Butterwick, Barrow-on-Sea and Fairmile were all once stray cats themselves.
So if you should ever happen to find yourselves at Happy Days caravan park, you may catch a glimpse, amongst the weeds in the old swimming pool or in the long grasses now covering the Pitch and Putt, the swish of a tail, the glimpse of a whisker or an emerald eye blinking at you. These are the old caravan and fairground cats, those cats who, for one reason or another have no homes of their own. Here are just some of them: Jonty and Milo, Tina and Lala, Finlay, and of course, Reggie, the biggest and most self-important cat of them all. He is a very large tabby cat with two very pointy ears, a former police station cat, when Fairmile had its own police station. He likes to be called ‘Sarge’ or ‘Sergeant’ and he is in charge of the sites. He also likes to think that he is in charge of all the Butterwick cats as well. He is a very bossy cat indeed!
3
A Very Hot Day
It was a glorious summer and Butterwick was bathed in hot sunshine; it had been that way for many weeks. All the cats in the caravan park were lolling about, having found the shadiest places to sleep. Jonty is quite a young cat; he ended up in the park because he jumped out of the family trailer, as it was leaving the park and couldn’t find his way home again and so he made his way back to the site. He sleeps with Reggie in an old caravan with no wheels, which they enter by squeezing through a hole in the bottom. Of course Reggie sleeps on the top ‘bunk’ on an old mattress and Jonty is on the bottom bunk. Jonty very much sees himself as Reggie’s second in command. On this hot day they were both sprawled out in the shade of their caravan. Reggie was flat out with his paws in the air, showing his tummy. He is a very large cat with four white paws and very large pointed ears, both of which are torn from the many scrapes that Reggie has been in whilst ‘policing’ the park. Jonty on the other hand is much smaller; he is grey with a white tip on his tail and is rather thin but very quick on his feet. Jonty is not very clever but he is very willing and will do whatever Reggie tells him to do, even if it gets him into trouble at times.
“I feel too hot to do my rounds, Jonty,” said Reggie, “but I suppose I must do my duty.” When Reggie lived in the police station he learnt all about policing. The station was in Fairmile and he was actually the station ‘ratter’ but he also saw himself as a police-cat. When the station closed, Reggie did not want to go and live with the nice old lady who wanted to adopt him, so he jumped out of her cat-basket and ran all the way to Butterwick sands where he soon found the wild caravan park cats and soon became ‘top-cat’… after a few battles of course. Now all the cats and Butterwick animals generally accept Reggie, even if they find him a bit pompous at times and every day Reggie would do ‘his rounds’ making sure everyone is safe. He casually swotted away a fly and in one swift movement he was up on his big paws. “Let’s go, Jonty,” he said.
“Yes Reggie,” said Jonty, stretching himself and yawning as he was really feeling quite sleepy.
“I feel really thirsty,” said Reggie, “let’s have a drink and some fun!” Reggie had that mischievous gleam in his eye that Jonty knew so well and Reggie knew that there was water to be found in Bowler, the terriers bowl, over at his humans’ Ben and Sonia’s caravan. Reggie also knew that Bowler would start up a furious barking and yapping if he saw the two cats drinking his water! Now, Reggie had no time for dogs and found them incredibly silly. They would run after balls, jump in rivers to chase sticks and even roll over and have their tummies tickled… all so they could please their humans. Cats on the other hand, are much more independent and proud and cats never did anything they did not want to do. Yes, thought Reggie, cats were by far the most superior species. Today they would have just a small adventure as it was so hot but nevertheless it would be fun!
Jonty was thinking to himself that life could be so much easier on such a hot day, they would only need to do the ‘cute face’ as Reggie had taught him and miaow nicely and old Mags or Ben and Sonia would give them lovely cold milk or even some tasty tit-bits. The cats on the park and fairground rarely went hungry, as leftover food was often left for th
e cats; the trick was to grab it before those pesky seagulls arrived. They would swoop really low and grab the food first and they had no real fear of the cats. Jonty really did not like the seagulls as they were so greedy and were very rude and, although he would never admit it to Reggie, he was a little afraid of them. There was an especially large one called Gunther who was always spying on the caravan cats. He loved to frighten Jonty. He had a really beady eye and all the other birds gave him a wide berth. Well, now he would have to follow his sergeant even though he could never understand how an officer of the law could be so naughty! But as Reggie often said to him, being able to be sneaky and spying is all part of the ‘training’ for the police.
“Come on,” said Reggie, “you go first.” Jonty went in front and they started to do ‘the sideways walk’ that cats do when they are stalking. They make themselves as flat and as thin as possible and creep forward r-e-a-l-l-y, r-e-a-l-l-y slowly. Reggie and Jonty flattened themselves out and crept toward the caravans. The earth and sand blown up from the beach was very dry so they moved noiselessly under each caravan, inching forward and relishing the cooling shade to be found under each van as they crept along. It was very quiet as all the animals and birds were either resting or sleeping in the heat, except for two small sparrows that were squabbling noisily nearby. Normally ‘Sergeant’ Reggie would have intervened but today he was on a mission. They finally reached the two inhabited caravans and all was quiet, old Mags was having a sleep in her caravan and Fergus was curled up on the roof under the shade of the big apple tree that stood on the cliff edge. Malachi was also under the tree idly grazing and swishing flies with his tail. Ben, Sonia and the children had gone to the beach. Caesar the rooster and his chickens were also lying down in the shade of the old barn. Where was Bowler? Had he gone to the beach too? They crept around to the front of Bowler’s caravan, there he was! The door to his caravan was open and he was lying on the doormat with his head on his paws… was he asleep? Reggie and Jonty continued to creep up slowly. There was the dog bowl! just under the steps leading up to the open door. Jonty could see the bowl was full of lovely cold water and he was thirsty now too. He looked behind him and saw that Reggie had puffed his fur out and looked quite fearsome. Reggie pushed Jonty with his paw. “Go on,” he cat-whispered and very slowly Jonty edged his way toward the bowl. He flattened himself so flat he could have been mistaken for a grey mat. He was there! The steel bowl felt cool, Jonty leaned over and started to drink very fast, the cool water was lovely, Jonty’s little pink tongue was lapping away furiously and then Reggie joined him lapping away, but all the time keeping his eyes and ears open and that would have been that, except that the two squabbling sparrows had taken their argument right up to the two caravans and they were making a terrible racket. Bowler opened one eye and saw the birds, he then yawned and opened his other eye and saw the cats! In a flash he was up barking and growling and was so excited that he fell backwards down the stairs! Bowler could not believe what he was seeing; it was bad enough having to live with a cat that always seemed to have the upper hand but this… It was just too much!
“How dare you cats steal my water!” he barked angrily. “Why it’s even the so-called Sergeant Reggie, I’ll show you!” But of course the cats were too fast for him. As fast as lightening they ran up the apple tree and sat on the upper branches having a good old laugh, whilst Bowler stood at the bottom on his short little legs barking furiously. “How dare you, come down at once. I shall report you.”
“To who?” laughed Reggie.
“Yes, to who?” echoed Jonty.
By now, Bowler was in such a state that he was chasing his own tail going round and round and panting hard in the heat, “Come down, you cowards, I will bite your tails off.”
“Like to see you try, you silly old puppy dog!” cried Reggie. At this insult, Bowler’s barking reached fever pitch.
There was such a commotion that the sparrows stopped squabbling to watch, Fergus the cat lifted his head, smiled to himself and then went back to sleep, Malachi said, “Hurmph! What a disgrace! No respect these days, these cats and dogs and birds, all with no care of the noise, some of us are trying to graze. Why when I was a young horse this would never have been allowed, that’s what comes of having a cat as an officer of the law, and another thing…”
“Oh, shut up!” said the sparrows. “We love a good fight!”
Kiya the cat, who had been sleeping under a nearby caravan opened an eye and said, “I’m not really bothered.” and promptly went back to sleep. Caesar the rooster and his chickens came running to have a look. “Careful my dears,” he crowed, “let’s not get excited.”
“Out of the way, you silly old boiler!” squawked Daphne, “Let’s have a look.”
Even old Mags who is a bit deaf was roused. “’Ere what’s going on! Bowler what’s the matter now, you silly dog!” Mag’s eyesight was also failing, so she did not see the cats in the tree. “Bowler, stop that now!”
Bowler was trying to say, “Look up there,” but to no avail.
“You’re going back in the caravan until Ben and Sonia get home,” and with that she grabbed Bowler’s collar and heaved the barking dog up the stairs of the caravan locking the door with the spare key Ben and Sonia had given her. Mags is a very strong old lady due to living outdoors for so long, so she was able to cope with Bowler, who was so incensed he was whining, yelping and scratching at the door.
“You don’t understand,” he was barking.
“Well I never did,” she was muttering to herself, “a body can get no peace round here. What a carry on!” Later on when recounting it all to Ben and Sonia and the wide-eyed children, who were a lovely colour and very excited, having spent a lovely day on the beach, all agreed that the cause of Bowler’s extreme excitement must have been the heat. “Sends them mad, you know,” said Mags, “when it’s too hot.”
“Yes I guess so,” said Sonia, “it’s not like Bowler at all, he barks a lot but usually he calms down quickly.”
“Has Bowler been naughty?” asked Mariella.
“Just a little bit, I think,” answered Sonia.
“Naughty doggy,” said Elliot.
Later on Bowler, who had now been allowed out, was sitting outside in the dusk looking up at the empty tree branches, “I’ll get them next time, just you wait and see,” he said out loud to himself. Fergus, now back on the caravan steps, was washing himself after a particularly nice fish and chip supper. It had been bought back by Ben, who had given him some tit-bits on the chip paper. He heard Bowler talking to himself, he licked his lips and started grooming his whiskers and thought, Cats 1, dogs 0!
On the other side of the caravan park, lounging in the tall grasses of the pitch and putt course are two cats. Reggie and Jonty are sharing some leftover chicken and chips in a box thrown there by the local teenagers or walkers, who came up there for the view over the bay. In the balmy evening air the two cats eat in companionable silence except for, every so often, when Reggie starts laughing to himself. Jonty can see Reggie’s emerald eyes shining in the dark and he thinks how lucky he is to have a comfortable bed, food and most of all a friend like Reggie.
“Good day, eh Jonty,” said Reggie.
Jonty pushes over the last scraps of chicken toward Reggie. “Oh yes, Reggie, great fun! What will we do tomorrow?”
I wonder, thought Reggie, as he gobbled up the last of the chicken.
4
Hamish And The Chip Shop
Butterwick has about 1,500 people who live in the village and this would swell to about 2,000 people during the summer months. There is a long high street with several shops, a small church, a school and a local pub. There is a big supermarket in Fairmile but on the whole, the locals shop in their village shops. “Got to support the local shops,” they would say, “use ’em or lose ’em! Of course, being Butterwick, every shop, the church, the pub and the school have their own cats. It has alw
ays been that way in Butterwick and there are as many cats in the village as people. Whenever cats ‘disappear’ from their homes all over Britain, they will often be found in Butterwick, having made themselves at home, in their new home as it were. The cats and the people live side by side and on the whole, very peacefully.
In the centre of the village after you come down the cliff path from the caravan park is the fish and chip shop. It is run by Mrs Mary McAllister who came to live in Butterwick from Scotland with her husband Stuart, her five children and Hamish the cat. Hamish is a ‘Scottish fold’ breed which means he has folds instead of ears which are called ‘lops’. Hamish is not a ‘pure’ breed Scottish fold, he is part tortoiseshell and part fold which means he is a curious mix of a grey top half and tortoiseshell bottom half. He has a large fluffy tail, quite short whiskers and is all topped off with no real ears! He has a very strong Glasgow meow, so that sometimes, the other cats cannot understand him but they tend to not tell him, as Hamish is a very bad-tempered cat. This could be of course because the five children in this family mean that the peace that Hamish craves is nigh on impossible!
The Cats of Butterwick Sands Page 2
