The Cats of Butterwick Sands

by Gabriella Thomas

  “Please just try, Mario!” replied Ernie, oh how he wished Percy was here, he would know what to do. Just as Mario ran off around the corner to the restaurant as fast as he could go in all that snow, a wonderful thing happened. Ernie, who was normally a level headed cat, was feeling a bit panicky about the situation, when who should come around the corner at the top of the street but Percy!

  “Hello what going on here?” said Percy as he trotted up.

  “What are you doing here, Percy? Boy I am glad to see you!”

  “Oh, I had forgotten to tell you a couple of things about the concert next week at the fairground… well, well what’s happened here?” he said, seeing Brewster on the ground.

  “We found him like this,” said Ernie. “I have sent Mario to try and get his human.”

  “Good idea,” said Percy, “he will die of cold out here.”

  “That’s what I was saying,” explained Oatmeal who was always trying to get into Percy’s good books.

  Percy narrowed his eyes and gave his inscrutable look; he had not been expecting this! Not for the first time tonight, he thought about the roaring log fire at The Old Sea Dog. He bent down near Mr Brewster’s head; he could hear a low moan. “Right,” he said, “I want you all to lie down on top of Mr Brewster and we can make a ‘fur blanket’ to keep him warm until help arrives.”

  The cats all did as they were told and as the snow continued to fall, they climbed on top of Mr Brewster, laying down close to each other, keeping their heads down in their paws to keep warm. Percy was the last one to start climbing on top. Just then Coleman and Parker, two brother tom-cats from the big school in Fairmile had been on a night out and they were making their way home. As they turned into the street where Mr Brewster was, they saw the strange sight of several cats lying on top of a mound with legs sticking out the bottom.

  “What on earth…” said Coleman. Percy quickly explained to them what they were doing, Coleman and Parker knew of Brewster of course, but they had great respect for Percy and they were related to Ollie, although you would never think so as they were as sleek as Ollie was fat.

  “Hello cousin,” they said to Ollie, who had managed to heave himself onto Brewster’s prostate body.

  “Oh hello boys,” said Ollie, “this is a very strange night tonight, by the way I’m starving, you wouldn’t happen to have a morsel would you?”

  “Well we were saving this piece of KFC chicken until later, but you can have it I suppose.” Parker, who had not said anything until now, opened his mouth and dropped a piece of breaded chicken next to Ollie, who was positioned on top of Brewster’s right shoulder.

  “Gee thanks, chaps!” snorted Ollie with glee.

  Oatmeal, whose mistress fed her only the best organic vegetarian cat food said, “Really Ollie, don’t you ever stop thinking about food?”

  “No,” said Ollie and in truth, Oatmeal’s stomach was rumbling because of her strict vegan diet. She was rather lean and her waistcoats often were a little too big and now she was eyeing Ollie gobbling the chicken with just a little bit of longing.

  Coleman and Parker jumped onto Mr Brewster and sat on his lower half, in amongst the other cats. Meanwhile Mario had gone to the restaurant; there was a cat flap through into the kitchen but Mario didn’t use it, instead he did the only thing he could think of to do, he sat underneath where he knew Mr and Mrs Ravioli’s bedroom was and he started to sing, “e lucevan le stelle” (which means, ‘and the stars shone’) by the composer Giuseppe Verdi and he sang at the top of his voice. A window flew open, Mrs Ravioli, her hair in curlers and wearing her shocking pink dressing gown shouted out, “Waz ze matter with you, you stupid cat stoppe that noise! Reno, you come ’ere dat blinking cat ’e iz singing outside, ’e will wake up the ‘ole street, Reno come ’ere!”

  Mr Ravioli had been in the bathroom doing his nightly gargle with lemon, which he believed kept his ‘tubes clear’. He came running out the bathroom, “Whate ze matter now, I canna get no peace!”

  “Listen to ’im,” said Mrs Ravioli, as Mario was singing louder and louder. Mr Ravioli looked out the window and saw Mario getting covered in the heavy snow, his mouth wide open and singing one of his favourite arias. Somehow he knew something wasn’t quite right, he put on his ancient blue dressing gown which was frayed and faded and was now several sizes too small; his massive belly strained against the fabric and he couldn’t do it up. He had the dressing gown since 1960 and nothing would persuade him to get rid of it, “It iz disgustin’ papa, throw it in ze bin,” Mrs Ravioli would say. Luigi had brought him a lovely new one a few Christmases ago but Papa had said, “It is still good this gown, plenty of wear an’ tear.” And so the new one stayed wrapped up in his wardrobe. “I will go and see whatta iz the matter, Mama,” said Mr Ravioli. He put on his mule slippers and went downstairs. He ran through to the kitchen and flung open the back door. Mario stopped singing.

  “What’s ze matter, Mario, tella your dada,” but Mario just starting running up and down the front path from the restaurant to the road, which was very unusual as Mario NEVER ran anywhere. Mr Ravioli understood that Mario wanted him to come outside and he gingerly stepped into the cold air and snowflakes. He had scraped the snow away from the front of the restaurant earlier, but now it was icy, so very carefully, he stepped down the path and began to follow his cat. Mario started walking to the corner and waited for Mr Ravioli to catch up and then rounding the corner, he had to plough his way through the snow. It now arrived to the top of his legs and he tried not to think how cold it felt. He ran up to Mr Brewster as Mr Ravioli’s slippers sank into the snow and his dressing gown flapped open in the icy air. He peered up the road. What was that? he thought. He adjusted his glasses which were now iced over and very slowly and with great effort, he managed to reach Mr Brewster. He could not believe his eyes: there on the ground was Brewster who was very still and on top of him what looked like a multi-coloured fur blanket, except that it was moving! Mr Ravioli moved closer. Why they were all cats! Mario gave a series of small miaows; Reno looked at him and managed to understand. He bent down and felt Brewster’s pulse; it was weak but still there. Mr Ravioli knew what he had to do, he understood now that the cats were keeping Brewster warm. He still couldn’t quite believe it, couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing, but there it was! Mr Ravioli managed to get home and telephone an ambulance and the rest became history as they say. A helicopter had to come and airlift Brewster as ambulances were unable to get through the snow and, until it arrived the cats continued to keep him warm.

  Brewster ended up covered in foil in a hospital bed in Fairmile hospital and it was general accepted by all, that the cats had actually saved his life! All the cats and humans talked of nothing else for weeks; The Barlington Bugle ran the headline: ‘MAN’S LIFE SAVED BY LOCAL MOGGIES’ and beneath it was a picture of Mr Brewster lying in his hospital bed with his thumbs up SMILING. And then a few weeks after that, another headline: ‘HERO MOGGIES RECEIVE AWARD’ and there was a picture of Oatmeal, Coleman and Parker, Ernie, Mario and of course the mastermind of the whole thing, Percy. The Mayor of Fairmile, Councillor Len Grubb had put medals around each of the cat’s necks and a whole array of delicious cat treats were laid out for them on the floor of the Council Chamber. The cats all began tucking in, all except Percy, of course, who was looking directly at the camera with the medal round his neck and what looked like the merest glimmer of a smile on his lips.

  Several weeks after that came another headline: ‘MAN SAVED BY CATS GIVES LARGE DONATION TO CATS’ CHARITIES’. The article began:

  “Mr Archibald Brewster, resident of Butterwick Sands and owner of the pier amusement arcade in the town, has given a considerable donation to the local cat charity shop in Barrow-on-Sea. He has also arranged for regular food to be put out for all the stray cats in Butterwick, who for years have lived on the site of the old Happy Days Caravan Park and fairground in Butterwick Sands. Mr Bre
wster said, “I owe my life to those cats and I hope, by making this donation I can show my appreciation.”

  There was a picture of Mr Brewster stroking Percy with one hand and poor old Bingo, the arcade cat, with the other! Mr Ravioli, whose restaurant had become even more popular after these events said to his customers, “My Mario ’e iz a hero and he canna sing as well.” Mario was petted and spoilt even more by the Raviolis and given extra helpings of his favourite spaghetti meatballs. At the station, old George patted Ernie and laughed as he read the newspapers, “Well, me old friend, what you been up to eh? You’re famous now, saving old Brewster,” and he kept laughing until he cried and dished up Ernie’s favourite salmon in cream sauce. Oatmeal’s owner Arabella at the health food shop knitted a special gold waistcoat with silver buttons, “Who’s my clever girl then?” and gave Oatmeal a special treat of organic pilchards in tomato sauce.

  Coleman and Parker, the two toms from Fairmile Comprehensive School were fussed over by all the schoolchildren and by their humans, the caretaker Willy White and his wife, Dora. Percy of course, simply took it all in his stride; Ivor and Ella were used to their clever cat surprising them all the time and Bilko basked in the reflected glory. He would tell any dog that was willing to listen, “Oh yes, me and Percy are best mates you know, we’ve had lots of adventures and he often asks my advice about things.” Of course none of the dogs believed him except Madame Frou-Frou, the rather dim Pekinese, who belonged to Mrs Pitkin a retired nurse living in Butterwick. Madame Frou-Frou is yappy and silly but she absolutely adores Bilko. She thinks he is clever and big and strong and she hangs onto his every word, “Oh Bilko,” she would yap, “I’m sure that Mr Percy listens to you all the time.”

  As for Mr Brewster…? Well he is a changed man. The arcade is now full of life and fun. Gerald only works part time as he goes to college on the other days in Barlington, to learn about how to make computer games. Sue still works in the café at the back of the arcade, but now it is a bright place to work as Brewster has had the whole arcade re-furbished. It now has lots of new ‘claw’ machines with lots of new cuddly toys; there are new carpets and lighting and the little café is brightly painted with new little tables and chairs. Brewster has brought in a cook who can make nice food and another boy Darren, who lives at the petrol station just outside Fairmile, helps out on the days when Gerald is at college. Darren and Sue get on very well indeed, so maybe those bridal magazines will come in useful after all! Even the booth has been transformed; it now is bright and airy and all in all, a lot of money had been spent doing the place up, “Can’t take it with you,” Brewster now says, “Life’s too short!” The arcade now has pussy cats dropping in all the time to see Bingo, Tina and their kittens. They live in a snug room at the back of the arcade, but Tina and Bingo will often go and visit Tina’s old friends’, Lala, Milo and the others in the old fairground with their babies. Lala would often say to Tina, “He may be from the wrong side of the tracks but he will take good care of you, darling, just like my dear Milo,” She would look over at Milo and Milo would give a happy and contented sigh.

  Over at the pub on one of the occasions that Bilko and Percy discussed that evening, sitting in their favourite place on the pub garden bench. Percy said, “You see old chap, only cats could have possibly saved the day as our body heat per square centimetre is the equivalent of a duvet, tog for tog.”

  Bilko thought that Percy said, ‘Dog for dog’. “Oh no,” he answered, “dogs could never have done it, I agree not dog for dog.”

  Percy looked at Bilko with total distain. “I really don’t know why I bother speaking to a canine, but good night to you.” With that he turned tail and went off.

  Blossom and Burt, the two donkeys in the pub garden, had been trying to listen in on the conversation. “That cat thinks a lot of himself,” said Burt.

  “Well he would he doesn’t have to be a DONKEY, does he?” remarked Blossom, chewing on a blade of grass.

  And so, every Christmas, you will now find a happy little gathering at Ms. Amelia Brewster’s house in Fairmile. There at the head of the table is Mr Brewster, with a big smile on his face carving the turkey and beside him are Sue and Darren who are now married and have a little boy called Archie after his granddad. Opposite them at the dining table sits Gerald, who now lives in London but comes down for holidays with his mate Carl. At the other side of the room, tucking into their Christmas dinner, are Sooty, Bingo, Tina and their kittens who are now quite grown up – their names are Figaro, Betty, Toto and Lucy and they all live in the arcade with their parents. Ms. Brewster’s dining room is decorated with tinsel and jolly Father Christmases and the table is very festive; a beautifully decorated Christmas tree twinkles in the corner. Mr Brewster cannot recall feeling so happy in a long time and he knew that he didn’t want to waste any more time being miserable. Sue and Darren were now running the arcade with the cats of course, and Mr Brewster and his sister now spend six months a year in the holiday home that he had bought in Spain. He has a cat there too called Pablo and has also taken in lots of strays (but that’s for another story!). Mr Brewster looks over at a photograph on the mantelpiece; he is shaking the mayor’s hand and around him are all the cats that saved his life proudly wearing their medals. Brewster smiles and carries on carving. “Merry Christmas everyone,” he says.

  13

  Big Changes In Butterwick.

  One day in early autumn, a big maroon car rolled into Butterwick Sands and parked in the car park at the Old Sea Dog. A tall rotund gentleman wearing a grey raincoat and trilby hat emerged from the car and went into the pub. He was carrying a large wicker basket and he booked into the best room in the place: the ‘Blue Suite’, overlooking the sea. Percy, the pub cat who knows about most things including cars, came out sniffing around the car and jumped on the bonnet whilst Bilko, the pub dog trotted out to have a look.

  “Hey Perse, that’s a big car, isn’t it?” he said.

  Percy narrowed his eyes and was staring at his reflection in the shiny bonnet. “This is a Rolls Royce, rather nice one too, and it’s in beautiful condition. They don’t make them like this anymore and, by the way, don’t call me Perse.”

  ”Oh, er sorry, old chap,” said Bilko, “I mean Mr Percy; I wonder who the man is?”

  “Well these cars are very, very expensive,” Percy replied, turning around a couple of times before settling himself down and curling his tail under him; from this position he could survey everything that was going on. “He is obviously someone of importance,” he added.

  At that moment Gunther and his pals were out doing their evening ‘swoops’, up and down the sea-front, screeching and laughing and swooping down into any bins for food or sometimes even stealing food from people’s hands! Gunther’s favourite was a bit of burger from the fish and chip shop and he would swoop so quickly that he was up and away before the person could do anything; it was a great game for him and the other seagulls who were not quite so brave would laugh and screech at his daring. Gunther’s brother Sigmund for example, would only swoop to steal from the smaller children. Today and full of mischief as usual, the seagulls decided to drop their bird poo on the shiny Rolls Royce, however, Gunther was careful to drop it on the back part of the car and not on Percy, as even he was a little in awe of the clever cat. A big splat was heard and Bilko, who had just turned round to go indoors, looked back and saw Gunther swooping and laughing. He started barking loudly, “How dare you do that, this is a Rollaroy car and we have a very important person staying here, so go away!” Bilko was very loyal to the pub and to Ivor and Ella but Gunther just laughed all the more. A while ago, Gunther had saved a small kitten and for a time he was in everyone’s good books, but he had soon gone back to his nasty ways. Percy did not even bother to look up and calmly started to groom himself.

  Bilko was going bonkers yapping and running round in circles. “Percy old chap, look at what that bird has done! What shall we do, shall I go
and find Reggie, the officer of the law?”

  “There’s no point,” said Percy, “they have done their business and now they will go, unfortunately this is how lower creatures such as birds amuse themselves; by the law of averages the seagull is too large to capture and therefore we must not waste time and energy trying to bring them to justice. The man who owns the car who is called Bertie Peabody, by the way. We will get a lackey to clean it for him, so don’t waste any more time thinking about it, it will be supper time soon,” and with that Percy continued his grooming. Bilko started scratching his ear and not for the first time, he wondered how Percy seemed to know everything; how did he know the man’s name? The rest of what Percy had said was lost on poor Bilko but as usual he thought whatever he said it must be right. Well now he could hear Ella calling him for his supper so Percy was right about that as well!

  With a big sigh Bilko trotted into the pub. It turned out that in the wicker basket Bertie had brought his Balinese grey and white cat named Stan. Ivor and Ella always welcomed pets to their pub and hotel. Stan was used to the best of everything but rather like his master he was a down to earth; a no nonsense cat who took everything in his stride. He soon made himself at home taking up a comfortable position in one of the pub’s comfy armchairs near a window overlooking the bay. Bilko was quite incensed that another cat had taken up residence in the pub, but he thought he should introduce himself and gingerly went over to Stan in the armchair. Bertie had unpacked and was enjoying a pint at the bar and buying drinks for everyone; he really was very friendly. Bilko went up to Stan. “Hello my name is Bilko and I am the pub dog,” he said, “I own the pub with my master and mistress, Ivor and Ella, I hope you will be comfortable here. There is another cat who lives here called Mr Percy, I am sure you would like to meet him.”