Felix the Fluffy Kitten and Other Kitten Tales

by Jenny Dale

  He began to climb. He leaped lightly from branch to branch, getting higher with every jump. The tree swayed gently in the breeze, but that didn’t worry Super-Snuggles the Wonder Cat. He just kept right on going.

  “I did it!” Super-Snuggles miaowed, as he jumped up onto the highest branch. “I climbed the tallest tree!”

  It should have been one of the best dreams ever.

  “But it isn’t,” Super-Snuggles miaowed sadly. He looked down into next door’s garden. Mark was out there, playing with his little sister. He was chasing her round the garden, and they were laughing happily.

  “You know what?” Super-Snuggles the Wonder Cat miaowed. “I wish I could play with Mark!”

  Chapter Six

  “OH!” Snuggles woke up with a jolt.

  “Snuggles!” Mr Chapman was staring at his kitten, looking puzzled. “You made me jump! What’s the matter?”

  “It’s OK, Mr Chapman,” Snuggles mewed. “Now I know why my Super-Snuggles adventures aren’t such fun any more.”

  Mr Chapman stared down at his excited little kitten. “What on earth is the matter with you, Snuggles?”

  “My real world is more exciting than my dream world, now that I’ve got Mark to play with!” Snuggles explained happily.

  He jumped off Mr Chapman’s lap, and charged to the front door, tail waving madly. “I’m tired of dreaming. Can we go and see Mark now?”

  “Snuggles, what’s the matter?” Mr Chapman came out into the hall. “Don’t scratch the door!”

  “Please, Mr Chapman,” Snuggles mewed.

  Mr Chapman picked up his kitten, then looked at his watch. “Let’s go next door,” he said. “It’s nearly time for lunch. And at least that will stop you scratching my front door to pieces!”

  As Mr Chapman carried Snuggles outside, the kitten’s heart thumped with excitement. How could he have thought that silly old dreams could be better than having real adventures, playing with Mark?

  Mark was looking out for them. His face lit up and he dashed outside to open the front gate.

  Mr Chapman handed Snuggles to him.

  The kitten rubbed his furry cheek against Mark’s. “Sorry, Mark,” he purred. “Playing with you is the best fun ever!”

  “Woof! Woof!”

  Snuggles turned round and saw Barney the Alsatian walking down the street with his owner.

  “Grr!” Barney had spotted Snuggles, and was trying to pull his owner towards him. “I don’t like cats!” he growled fiercely.

  Snuggles’s fur bristled in fear. But he couldn’t let smelly old Barney spoil his fun with Mark. He knew he had to be brave. What would Super-Snuggles do?

  The kitten arched his back and lowered his ears, hoping it made him look fierce. “You’d better not talk to me like that, Barney,” he hissed. “Or I’ll chase you right up the street!”

  Barney was so surprised that he stopped barking at once.

  “You showed him, Snuggles!” Mark laughed, as he carried the kitten inside.

  “Yes, I did, didn’t I?” Snuggles purred, rather surprised himself.

  There were delicious smells coming from the kitchen which made Snuggles’s whiskers twitch.

  “Let’s go into the garden, Snuggles.” Mark put the kitten down, and went to open the back door. “I’ll show you my new tree house.”

  “Great!” Snuggles purred happily.

  Mark’s tree house was perched in the branches of the tallest tree in the Bournes’ garden. Snuggles could see that the tree was even taller than the one Super-Snuggles had climbed in Mr Chapman’s garden. There was a long ladder leading up to the tree house.

  “Shall I carry you up there, Snuggles?” Mark asked, bending to pick the kitten up.

  “No,” Snuggles miaowed bravely. He shrugged away Mark’s hand. “I’m going to climb up the tree – just like Super-Snuggles would!”

  “You’ll never get up there!” someone miaowed rudely.

  Snuggles turned round and saw Timmy the tomcat perched on the fence, his tail swinging.

  “Oh yes, I will!” Snuggles mewed back. It was funny – he didn’t feel scared of Timmy at all now!

  Mark began to climb up the ladder and Snuggles scrambled up the tree trunk behind him. It wasn’t easy and his legs were tired out before he was halfway there. But he kept going.

  The sun was warm on the kitten’s back. A gentle breeze ruffled his fur. “I did it!” Snuggles miaowed, as he finally reached the tree house.

  He could see all the streets and gardens for miles around. He was so close to the blue sky that he felt as if he could reach out with his paw and touch it.

  Snuggles thought that this was better than any of his Super-Snuggles dreams. He wasn’t scared at all, now that he’d got used to the swaying movements of the tree. But best of all, Mark was there too.

  Snuggles and Mark played in the tree house until lunch was ready.

  Then Mrs Bourne called them in, and everyone sat down to a huge roast chicken, with lots of potatoes, vegetables and gravy.

  Snuggles had his own special bowl under the table, which was full of small pieces of meat. And Mark kept slipping him more bits too! Snuggles had never been so full in his life.

  After lunch, Snuggles curled up on Mr Chapman’s lap and yawned. He was tired out from all their energetic games and from eating so much food.

  “Look, Snuggles is going to sleep again,” laughed Mrs Bourne.

  “Well, I think he deserves a nap this time,” Mr Chapman smiled.

  “Yes, he’s been awake for ages,” agreed Mark.

  “Don’t worry, Mr Chapman,” Snuggles mewed. “I’m not going to sleep for long. As soon as my tummy’s not so full, I’m going out with Mark to climb another tree!”

  Star

  the Snowy Kitten

  Special thanks to Mary Hooper

  To Maisie – a star in her own right

  Chapter One

  Michael knelt down beside the fire in his gran’s flat and ruffled Archie’s fur. The big tabby cat began to purr.

  “I wish Archie could come and live with us,” Michael said.

  “Don’t be silly,” Mrs Tappin, his mum, replied. “What would Gran do without him?”

  Michael put his head down onto Archie’s tummy. “I’d love a kitten of my own even more.”

  His mum and gran looked at each other and raised their eyebrows.

  Michael closed his eyes and wished. I really hope I get a kitten for Christmas.

  It was Christmas Eve and Michael and his mum had just popped in to see his gran. Archie, her cat, was dozing in front of the electric fire.

  Archie was old now, with raggedy fur. Once he’d been lean and active, but now he was large and soft, his body sprawled out like a bag of knitting.

  “I thought you wanted a mountain bike!” Michael’s gran said. Michael opened his eyes. “I’m saving for a mountain bike,” he replied. “I’ve been saving for ages. But I’d like a kitten for my Christmas present.”

  “You got a kitten last Christmas,” his mum reminded him.

  “But that wasn’t a real one,” Michael argued.

  Because he’d kept on about kittens so much, one of Michael’s presents last year had been a toy kitten, with fluffy ginger fur and curly whiskers. He now sat on the shelf above Michael’s bed. Sometimes, when no one was looking, Michael gave him a cuddle.

  “You’re too young to look after a real kitten yourself,” Mrs Tappin said.

  “I still want one,” said Michael. “I’ll always want one.”

  “They cost a lot of money, kittens do,” said his gran. “There’s food and vet’s bills.”

  “And cat baskets and flea collars!” Mrs Tappin put in.

  “But Archie doesn’t cost you much, does he, Gran?” Michael asked. He stroked the pale fur on Archie’s tummy, which was soft as feathers.

  “Not now,” his gran replied. “He doesn’t need a lot of fuss and expense. All he needs now is a laze in front of the fire and a snooze.” She smiled
. “Like me!”

  Michael put his face close to Archie’s and touched the tip of the cat’s damp, pink nose with his own. Archie’s whiskers quivered and one ear twitched slightly. “Did he play a lot when he was younger? Did he do naughty things?” he asked.

  “Oh, my goodness, yes,” said his gran. “He used to run up these curtains quicker than a rat up a drainpipe!”

  “One Christmas he climbed the tree!” Michael’s mum put in. She nodded towards the funny old plastic Christmas tree that his gran put up every Christmas. It was a bit bent and a bit bare. But she said she liked it like that.

  “That’s how it got bent,” said his gran.

  Michael looked at Archie’s crumpled, sleeping face. “Oh, please let me have a kitten!”

  Michael’s mum and gran looked at each other again.

  “You’ll have enough money for your bike soon,” Mrs Tappin said. “Then you won’t want to stay in with a kitten.”

  “I will,” said Michael. “I’ll have plenty of time left for a kitten.”

  Michael’s gran walked over to the window. “It said on the news that it’s going to snow,” she said. “We might have a white Christmas this year!”

  Michael looked up. “That would be great!” Then he sighed, and leant down to scratch the soft furry folds around Archie’s neck. “But not as great as having a kitten,” he said quietly to himself.

  On the way home, it began, very gently, to snow. A few flakes circled the street lights and fluttered to rest on Michael’s anorak.

  Chapter Two

  On Christmas morning, Michael woke up at six o’clock. Christmas Day, he thought. Presents!

  It was still dark but there was a strange glow coming through the curtains. Michael jumped out of bed to have a look. He pulled back the curtain. “Snow!” he breathed.

  There was snow everywhere: on the road, in the gardens, along the roofs of the houses opposite.

  Michael had never seen so much snow. “Oh, wow!” he said. Part of him wanted to dash out and build a snowman. But then . . . Christmas was waiting!

  There, in the shadows by the bottom of his bed, Michael saw his stocking. It was bulging with presents! Full of excitement, Michael dragged it up and tipped everything out onto his bed.

  All the parcels were wrapped in silver and gold. Michael tore off the wrapping to find all sorts of goodies. His favourites were a box with a black cat on it and a book about kittens.

  Right at the bottom of the stocking, in its toe, Michael found a handful of chocolate coins covered in gold foil. He peeled four of them, crammed them in his mouth and then pulled on a jumper, ready to race downstairs.

  Under the tree in the sitting room, he knew he’d find his big presents. He still hoped that there might . . . just possibly . . . be a kitten.

  Downstairs, the sitting room was lit by the same soft glow as Michael’s bedroom. Under the tree, parcels of all different shapes, colours and sizes had arrived, as if by magic. But Michael couldn’t see a kitten.

  For a moment he felt disappointed.

  “Michael!” his mum called from upstairs. “We can hear you!”

  “Come up and show us your presents!” his dad said.

  Michael began to feel a little bit excited again as he looked at the parcels with his name on them. “Coming!” he called back. He picked up as many of his presents as he could carry and made for the door. But just as he was going out of the room, Michael heard a strange noise.

  Miaooww!

  Michael was so surprised he dropped some of the parcels he was carrying. He put the rest of them down and began to look for where the noise was coming from.

  He looked under the sofa, under the table and chairs, and behind the sideboard. But no luck.

  He looked behind the bookcase and out in the hall. He still couldn’t find anything. Perhaps he’d imagined it.

  Miaaowww!

  But there it was again! And it was coming from outside . . .

  Michael ran over to the curtains and pulled them open. The garden was blanketed with snow.

  And there, pressed up against the glass door that led to the back garden, was a small black kitten. A very snowy kitten.

  “Oh!” Michael cried. He opened the door and scooped up the kitten in his arms. “What are you doing out there in the snow?”

  Holding the bedraggled black bundle against the warmth of his jumper, Michael shivered and quickly closed the door. “I wonder who you belong to?” he whispered.

  The kitten looked up at Michael with bright green eyes, then mewed.

  And to Michael, it seemed she was saying, “I belong to you!”

  Chapter Three

  Very quietly, Michael crept upstairs to his bedroom. He put the kitten on his bed and covered it with a fold of duvet to keep it warm.

  He stroked its soft damp fur, hardly able to believe it. A kitten, waiting for him on Christmas morning!

  The kitten was black, except for a white, star-shaped mark that stretched from nose to chest.

  “I’m going to call you Star,” Michael decided. He thought the kitten looked like a girl. He tickled her tiny pointed ears. “You’re my Christmas Star!”

  The kitten began to purr softly, and rubbed a tiny black cheek against Michael’s hand.

  “Michael, what are you doing?” came his dad’s voice.

  “Almost there!” Michael called back. He didn’t dare tell his mum and dad about Star. They might not let him keep her. No, he’d have to hide her for the time being. And then, after Christmas, he’d think about what to do.

  Michael bent to kiss Star’s soft forehead. “I’ll be back as soon as I can, Star,” he whispered. “I’ll bring you something to eat.”

  Quietly, Michael left his bedroom and went downstairs to pick up some of his parcels again.

  “Happy Christmas!” his mum and dad said as he went into their bedroom. “Let’s see your presents.”

  There were some great things in Michael’s parcels – a computer game, a video and two more books from his favourite animal series. There was also a safety lock, a horn and some lights for his bike – and some money from his gran towards buying it!

  “So are you pleased, love?” Mrs Tappin asked, smiling.

  Michael nodded. “They’re all brilliant!” he said happily. Especially my secret present, he thought to himself.

  Later that morning, Michael’s mum and dad were getting suspicious. Usually Michael spent Christmas morning downstairs, playing with his new toys and watching TV, but today he’d spent a lot of time upstairs in his room.

  “Do you feel all right?” Mrs Tappin asked. “One minute you’re here, next you’re gone! You’ve hardly looked at your new bike stuff. I don’t think you’ve even opened your books!”

  “I feel great!” Michael replied. “I’m just going upstairs to . . . to write some thank-you letters.”

  His dad looked at him with astonishment. “Are you sure you feel all right, Michael?”

  “Course I do!” Michael said, then he ran up to his room and closed the door behind him.

  Snuggled in Michael’s duvet, Star was snoozing. Earlier, Michael had brought her up a bowl of breakfast cereal, mashed up with lots of milk. She’d eaten every bit; then, with a round, full tummy, she’d fallen fast asleep. Michael was planning to bring her some turkey later.

  Suddenly the kitten’s eyes opened. Seeing Michael, she began to purr madly.

  Michael gently ruffled the fur around her ears. “Are you ready to play, now?” he asked. He trailed a piece of tinsel that he’d picked off the Christmas tree across the duvet.

  As she caught sight of it, Star’s green eyes opened wide. She leapt to her feet, then crouched, ears pricked, quivering all over as she prepared to pounce. Suddenly she leapt on the moving tinsel, attacking it with tiny paws and teeth.

  Michael laughed out loud. Then his face grew more serious. “I don’t know what to do about you going to the loo, Star,” he said. “You’re going to want to go soon, now you’ve woken up.
” He looked around his room thoughtfully. Star put her head to one side, watching his every move. “I think I’d better put some newspaper under the bed and then you can—”

  Suddenly, Michael’s door opened and his mum stood in the doorway. Her eyes widened as she saw Star. “Where did you . . . Where has that kitten come from?” she gasped.

  Michael ran over and scooped up Star. “She was outside!” he said. “This morning, when I got up to open my presents, she was outside in the snow.”

  “I don’t believe it!” Mrs Tappin said faintly. She sat down on the bed. “Clive,” she called to Michael’s dad, “come quickly!”

  Mr Tappin came hurrying in. He too stopped still in the doorway when he saw the kitten in Michael’s arms.

  “She’s mine!” Michael said fiercely. “I wished for a kitten and Star came along!” He held her close. “You will let me keep her, won’t you?” he pleaded.

  Mrs Tappin sighed. “I’m sorry, love,” she said. “She belongs to someone else. Kittens don’t just turn up on your doorstep like magic.”

  “And whoever she belongs to will be missing her,” Mr Tappin added. “We’ll have to put her outside again so she can go back to her real home. It’s only right.” Michael hugged Star even tighter.

  “Think how you’d feel if you had a kitten and it just disappeared,” his mum said gently.

  Michael nodded slowly.

  “She’ll find her way back to where she came from,” Michael’s dad reassured him. “But you must say goodbye to her now.”

  When his mum and dad had left the bedroom, Michael put his head down on Star’s fluffy tummy. His wish had come true: he’d got a kitten for Christmas. But now she was being taken away . . .

  Chapter Four

  “Anyone for second helpings?” Mr Tappin asked. The family were sitting at the dining table, eating Christmas lunch.