by Helen Peters
Tom and Jasmine lay silently in their beds, with Holly curled up in her shoebox on the floor between them, fast asleep with a tummy full of milk. They listened for the sound of Mum leaving her study, planning to get up as soon as she went downstairs. But Mum just carried on tapping at her computer. Was she ever going to stop working?
Jasmine was woken by a little mewing noise. Her heart leapt with excitement. Holly!
It was pitch dark. She pressed the light button on her alarm clock.
Six thirty-six am.
Oh, no! They hadn’t woken at two o’clock. Holly would be starving. They were terrible kitten owners.
Jasmine slipped out of bed. She could just see the shoebox in the shadows. She put her hand gently inside it and her fingers touched the kitten’s soft warm fur. Holly gave another squeaky miaow. Jasmine stroked her and picked up the box. “I’m so sorry, Holly,” she whispered. “I’m going to feed you right now.”
As she was tiptoeing out of the room, she heard Tom stir. She turned.
“Jasmine?” he said sleepily.
Holly mewed again. Tom sat bolt upright.
“I’m going to feed her,” said Jasmine.
“Wait, I’m coming,” said Tom, scrambling out of bed.
They padded down to the kitchen. Jasmine fetched the milk and warmed it.
“Can I feed her?” asked Tom, lifting Holly out of her box. She was mewing continuously now.
“She’s so hungry,” said Jasmine. “I hope she wasn’t mewing for ages before I woke up.” She tested the milk on her wrist. “OK, this is the right temperature.”
“Look,” said Tom. “She’s sucking my finger.”
It didn’t take long for Holly to drink her milk. Tom burped her, and then held her up to his face.
“All kittens are born with blue eyes,” he said. “I read that last night. It said they start changing colour in a month. I wonder what colour Holly’s will be.”
“Maybe they’ll stay blue,” said Jasmine. She raised her finger a few centimetres in front of Holly’s face and slowly moved it in a circle. Holly looked at it for a few seconds, and then she batted a tiny paw at it. Tom and Jasmine laughed.
“She’s playing with us already!” said Jasmine. “That’s a great sign.”
Tom scratched the red bites on his hand. “We’d better flea-comb her again once she goes to sleep. And that won’t be long. The website said kittens sleep for twenty hours a day.”
Sure enough, a few minutes later, Holly fell asleep in Tom’s lap. Jasmine went to get the flea comb. Toffee and Marmite looked up from their bed on the work surface as she came in to the scullery. Toffee jumped to the floor and rubbed himself against Jasmine’s legs.
Tom and Jasmine had read last night about introducing older cats to a new kitten. Before you introduced them, you were supposed to get them used to each other’s scents, as a cat’s sense of smell is its most important sense for communication.
“Sorry you can’t go in my room at the moment,” said Jasmine, as she stroked Toffee’s ginger fur. “Once you get to know Holly, you can go wherever you like again, but we need to take it slowly.”
Toffee nuzzled at her hand, investigating the new scent.
“That’s Holly you can smell,” Jasmine told him. “We’ll introduce you to her soon. I’m going to swap your blankets, so you’ll get used to each other’s scents. And remember, even though we have a new kitten, I still love you just as much as I always did, and I’ll give you just as much attention as I always have.”
After they had combed Holly and put her back in Jasmine’s room, Jasmine said, “We should go and see if the other kittens are OK.”
“But what if we disturb them,” said Tom, “and the mother moves them again?”
“We’ll tiptoe up really quietly and peep in the shed window. I just want to make sure they’re all right. What if she’s rejected them too?”
That settled it. They put on coats and wellies and went out to the garden. To their relief, the cat and her two remaining kittens were nestled together in a heap of empty paper sacks.
“They look so cute,” said Tom. “Do you think they’ll be OK? It’s horrible to think what hard lives they might have, living in the wild.”
“We won’t let that happen,” said Jasmine. “We’re going to bring them indoors.”
Tom stared at her. “Your mum will never let you.”
“We have to persuade her,” said Jasmine. “We’ll make a plan. After all, she’s a vet. She surely doesn’t want to see animals suffering in her own back garden?”
When they went downstairs for breakfast, Mum was making scrambled eggs. Ella was sitting at the table, highlighting passages in her book. Tom and Jasmine sat opposite her.
“Morning, you two,” said Mum. “How’s Holly? I gather you’ve fed her, from the mess you left on the draining board.”
“Sorry,” said Jasmine. “I’ll clear it up. She seems fine. Do you really think there’s something wrong with her?”
“Don’t worry, Jasmine,” said Mum. “If she’s eating well and she seems well, I expect she’ll be fine. I’ll give her a proper examination this morning, anyway.”
“It was so lucky we found her, wasn’t it, Tom?” said Jasmine, giving Tom a meaningful look. This was his cue to put their plan into action.
“Yes,” said Tom. “Otherwise she’d have died. Eighty per cent of feral kittens die in their first year.”
Ella looked up from her book, her eyes wide with alarm. “Eighty per cent?” she said. “Why?”
“Accidents or disease, usually,” said Jasmine. “We’ve been reading about it. And the females can become pregnant at four months’ old if they’re not rescued. And then they’re pregnant or rearing kittens their whole lives. It’s so hard for them, and they can get terrible diseases.”
“And they abandon their kittens, and then the kittens starve,” said Tom. “It’s awful.”
“It is,” said Mum. “That continual breeding cycle is no good at all. As soon as the kittens are weaned, we’ll catch them in a humane trap and I’ll neuter them and the cat. Then they’ll have much healthier lives.”
“And then can we bring them inside and tame them?” asked Jasmine.
Mum gave her a hard stare. “Jasmine, I’ve already told you we can’t. This house is quite chaotic enough without two more feral kittens.”
“We’re not asking to keep them forever. Only until they’re tamed and old enough to go to new homes.”
“I know it’s hard to understand,” said Mum, “but cats that haven’t had human contact in their first few weeks of life are actually much happier living outdoors, as long as they have food and shelter. These ones are in an ideal situation. They can sleep in the shed, they’ll have the whole farm to roam over, and you can put food and water out if you want to. Put it somewhere quiet and out of the way – under a bush or something. And do it in the daytime, not at night, so you don’t get nocturnal wildlife taking it.”
“But what if the kittens like us,” said Jasmine, “and they want to be pets?”
“Jasmine, I’ve said you can rear Holly and you can feed the others. I think that’s quite enough, don’t you?”
Jasmine decided not to push her mother any further right now. She would have to bide her time.
After breakfast, Mum gave Holly a full health check. She examined her all over, took her temperature and finally listened to Holly’s heartbeat through her stethoscope.
“Is she all right?” asked Jasmine anxiously, when Mum unhooked the stethoscope.
“So far as I can tell, she’s absolutely fine. Clear eyes and nose, normal temperature and a good strong heartbeat.”
“But you said her mother had probably rejected her for a reason.”
“It might be any one of a number of reasons, though,” said Mum. “We’ll probably never know. It might be something to do with the mother, not Holly. I can’t be completely certain that Holly is fully well, because there might be a problem with one of her o
rgans that hasn’t shown up yet. But she certainly seems to be a healthy little kitten. And very beautiful, too, aren’t you, Holly?”
She put out her finger and Holly batted it with her tiny paw.
“She’s the cutest kitten ever,” said Tom. “I wish I could have her.”
“Ask your mum when you get home,” said Jasmine.
“I will. But she won’t let me. I know she won’t. She hates cats.”
“She couldn’t possibly hate Holly,” said Jasmine. “Nobody could.”
Tom went home an hour later. That afternoon, he phoned Jasmine.
“Mum saw the flea bites,” he said. “She went crazy. There’s no way she’ll let me have Holly now.”
“But Holly won’t have fleas when you take her home.”
“I told her that, but she wouldn’t budge. It’s not just the fleas. She went on and on about how cats scratch the furniture and leave hairs everywhere and bring dead animals into the house. She said cats are dirty nasty creatures and there was no way she was having one in her home. I haven’t spoken to her since.”
If Tom’s mum was going to be so horrible about cats, Jasmine thought, then there was no way she was ever going to have Tom’s mum in her home. How dare she call them dirty nasty creatures!
“Well,” she said, “if your parents really aren’t going to change their minds, I’ll just have to persuade mine.”
It was the first Monday of November, the day school started again after half term. Mum was stirring a pan of porridge on the big Aga stove. Ella sat at the kitchen table with a cup of tea, a book lying open in front of her as usual. Jasmine was kneeling on the floor, playing with Holly.
At four weeks old, Holly was much steadier on her feet and wonderfully playful. Jasmine pushed a toy kitten across the tiles to her. Holly jumped on it and started to bite it with her tiny new teeth. Jasmine pulled the toy away and Holly leapt on it again, nuzzling and nipping at its fur.
“It’s so unfair that we have to go back to school just as Holly’s getting really playful,” said Jasmine. “She’ll be so lonely all day without me.”
Jasmine and Tom had turned Sky’s puppy crate into a playpen for Holly, where she would spend the days while Jasmine was at school. The wire crate had a fleecy blanket on the floor, and contained a sleeping hammock, a box that Holly liked to hide in, and her scratching post and litter tray. Jasmine had also put some of Holly’s favourite toys in there, including toilet roll tubes and ping-pong balls which she loved to chase.
“She’ll be fine,” Mum said. “She’ll play manically for a while and then she’ll curl up and sleep, and you can lavish attention on her when you get home. She’ll be able to see the other cats, so she won’t be lonely. And Dad’s going to check on her regularly, isn’t he?”
“But it’s not the same as me being there,” said Jasmine. “If we could bring the other kittens in when they’re weaned, she’d have companions all the time.”
Mum gave her a warning look. “Don’t even start, Jas.”
The scullery door rattled as Dad came in from the farmyard. Jasmine heard him taking off his wellington boots and washing his hands. He walked into the kitchen and warmed his hands at the Aga.
“Chilly out there,” he said. “Shouldn’t be surprised if we have frost tomorrow.”
Mum served the porridge into bowls. Jasmine sat at the table and sprinkled hers with sugar.
Holly padded over and started batting at her trouser hems. Jasmine took a fluffy toy mouse on a string out of her pocket and dangled it in front of Holly. The kitten jumped up on her hind legs and grabbed the mouse in her front paws.
“You’re so clever, aren’t you?” said Jasmine, bending down to stroke her. “You’re the cleverest kitten in the whole wide world.”
Mum looked up as Manu walked into the kitchen, still in pyjamas.
“Oh, Manu, go and get dressed,” she said. “And hurry up, or your porridge will be cold.”
Manu was in the doorway when he suddenly stopped.
“Oops,” he said.
“What?” asked Mum.
“I just remembered. I have to go to school dressed as Samuel Pepys.”
“What?” said Mum and Dad together.
“Yes, we’re doing the Great Fire of London and I’m Samuel Pepys.”
“But that’s ridiculous,” said Mum. “We’d have had a letter if you had to dress up today. They’d have given us some warning, at least.”
Manu looked sheepish. “There might have been a letter.”
“Where is it?” asked Mum in her deadliest voice.
Manu took his book bag from one of the coat pegs on the wall, rummaged amongst its contents and eventually produced a crumpled paper aeroplane.
He handed it to Mum. She unfolded it, read the letter and sat down heavily.
“Oh, dear lord, the local paper’s coming in to photograph the whole of Year One in their 1666 costumes this morning. Manu, how could you have forgotten to mention this for the entire two-week holiday?”
“He’ll just have to go in a bin liner,” said Dad. “I’m sure Samuel Pepys wore something black and shiny.”
“He can’t go in a bin liner again,” said Mum. “You’ll have to do something, Michael. I need to be at the surgery in half an hour.”
“I’d love to,” said Dad, “but I’ve got a bloke coming to deliver the new calf feeders, remember?”
The doorbell rang. “That’ll be him,” said Dad. “Sorry, must be off.” He practically sprinted out of the door.
Mum put her head in her hands. “I can’t believe you’ve landed me in this, Manu. What on earth am I going to do?”
“I’ll make him a costume,” said Ella.
They all stared at Ella. She held out her phone, on which was a picture of an old-fashioned man in a long curly wig and a shirt with ruffles under a brown jacket.
“That’s him,” said Manu excitedly. “That’s Samuel Pepys!”
“I’ll need your black leggings, Jas,” said Ella, “and your white knee-length socks to go over them. I’ll make some buckles out of foil for Manu’s shoes.”
“But you’ll be late for school,” said Mum.
“I’ll only miss registration,” said Ella. “It’ll be fine.”
Jasmine was studying the picture. “He can wear his normal school shirt,” she said, “and we can tear up some strips of sheet from the rag bag to be the ruffles.”
“If we put a belt round Mum’s brown jacket,” said Ella, “that will be perfect.”
“And he can have that wig from the dressing up box,” said Jasmine. “I’ll cut it and brush it a bit.”
Mum was staring at her daughters in wonder. “You’re angels, you really are. I’m eternally grateful to you. Just remember to put Holly in her playpen before you leave, won’t you, Jas?”
Jasmine picked Holly up. “Look at her beautiful little face,” she said to Mum. “She hasn’t been any trouble, has she?”
“She’s been very good,” said Mum. “Where are my car keys?”
Jasmine fetched them from the dresser. “And she gets on fine with the other cats, doesn’t she?”
“Thanks,” said Mum, taking the keys. “Yes, they seem to have settled down well together.”
“So it wouldn’t be any trouble to keep her, would it?”
Jasmine fixed her mother with what she hoped was a soulful gaze.
“An extra animal always means more work,” said Mum. “Not to mention more expense.”
“But she’s so lovely,” said Jasmine. “Who would want to get rid of such a beautiful little kitten? You don’t really want to let her go, do you?”
Mum sighed. “Jasmine, you promised not to pester. And this really isn’t the time to discuss it. I have to go to work, and you have to make a costume and go to school.”
Jasmine sighed. “School is so annoying. Six whole hours in the same room as Bella Bradley. Ugh.”
Jasmine and Manu arrived at school just as everyone was filing into the building. Manu
, resplendent in wig and ruffles, made his way to the Infants. Jasmine’s classmates were hanging up their coats outside their classroom. There was lots of chatting going on, but Bella Bradley’s voice could be heard above everybody else’s.
“What are you getting for Christmas?” she asked her friend Sadie. “My parents said I could get a new pet.”
“You’re so lucky,” sighed Sadie. “You’ve already got a dog.”
“Rupert’s not all mine, though,” said Bella. “He belongs to the whole family.”
Jasmine and Tom exchanged glances. Bella’s dog Rupert had killed Button’s mother as she had sat on her nest last spring. Bella had been letting him run free amongst Jasmine’s dad’s sheep.
“I can’t choose between a puppy and a kitten,” said Bella. “I’ve been researching, and I’ve seen the cutest little cat collars and cat beds, and these gorgeous matching feeding bowls.”
“Why don’t you get a kitten then?” asked Sadie.
“Yes, but then if I get a puppy, you can buy the most amazing coats for them, and if you get one of those tiny ones you can carry it around in a special puppy handbag. I wish I could get both. It’s not fair.”
“Ugh,” said Jasmine to Tom, as they walked into the classroom. “I can’t believe she’s getting a pet and all she cares about is what accessories she can buy for it.”
“She shouldn’t even be allowed to have a pet,” said Tom, “after letting her dog kill Button’s mother.”
“If I ever meet her parents,” said Jasmine, “I’ll tell them how irresponsible they are.”
“I don’t suppose your mum has changed her mind about you bringing the other kittens indoors?” said Tom.
“Nope. Has your mum changed her mind about you having Holly?”
