Felix the Fluffy Kitten and Other Kitten Tales

by Jenny Dale

  Tom sighed. He knew Jo was right, but he found it hard to be angry with Nell. She was such fun! Much more interesting than his goldfish, Eric. Tom knew that Hattie and Jo loved Nell too, but not as much as he did.

  “Well, we don’t have to tell Mum,” said Tom as he walked back to the house holding Nell tightly, just in case she decided to do something else naughty.

  “I bet she’ll know anyway,” said Hattie. “Poppy won’t stop squealing.”

  “Mum always knows if Poppy is upset,” said Jo. “And she’ll guess it was Nell again.”

  “But promise you won’t tell her,” shouted Tom over the noise of his mother’s tractor coming into the farmyard.

  “We won’t,” said Hattie and Jo.

  Tom took Nell into the kitchen and put her into her basket. “Now you stay there,” he said, trying to be stern. “Don’t muck around any more today!”

  Nell didn’t like it when Tom was cross. “Can’t we play with my toy mouse?” she miaowed.

  But Tom still looked serious.

  Nell sat back in her basket and yawned. She decided to give herself a bit of a wash. But before long, she fell asleep.

  Tom got up and looked out of the window. He watched his mum get down from the tractor and look into the pigpen. Hattie and Jo were shaking their heads solemnly.

  “I hope Poppy’s all right,” Tom muttered to himself as his mum marched across the farmyard towards the kitchen.

  The kitchen door opened and Mrs Morgan stomped into the house.

  “Hi Mum,” said Tom warily.

  “Where’s that cat?” replied Mrs Morgan.

  “She’s not a cat, Mum, she’s only a kitten,” said Tom. He went over to the cat basket where Nell was fast asleep.

  “And she’s too young to understand about pigs,” said Hattie, coming into the kitchen.

  “And she’s usually really good, isn’t she, Tom?” added Jo.

  “Yes, she is,” said Tom. “She’s just not used to being on a farm yet, that’s all, Mum.”

  Mrs Morgan pulled off her boots and flopped down at the kitchen table. She looked tired. “Put the kettle on, Tom love,” she said.

  Tom filled the kettle with water and plugged it in.

  Mrs Morgan wriggled her toes and put her feet up on a chair.

  “Well,” she said, “I know Nell is only a kitten but she’s come here to be a farm cat.”

  “I know, Mum,” said Tom.

  His mum carried on, “That means not jumping in the animal feed. And not pulling straw out of the bales. And not chasing the ducks and pouncing on the animals. Especially the pigs. And especially Poppy.”

  “I know, Mum,” Tom said again. “Nell will learn to be a good farm cat. I’m sure she will,” he added, crossing his fingers for luck.

  The kettle boiled and Mrs Morgan got up to make herself a cup of tea. She poured out some orange juice for Tom, Hattie and Jo and then sat down again, looking worried. “The thing is, I don’t want Nell to upset Poppy again,” she said. “Poppy is due to have her piglets next week, and if she’s upset, she may not look after them properly.”

  Tom’s heart thumped hard. Was his mum hinting that Nell might have to leave the farm? He had to think fast. “We could keep her inside until Poppy has had her piglets,” he suggested. “She could stay in my bedroom. I’d make sure she stayed in – honestly Mum! And I’d feed her and empty her litter tray and look after her and—”

  “All right,” laughed Mrs Morgan. “You can keep Nell in your room until Poppy has had her piglets, OK?”

  “Thanks, Mum!” Tom grinned. It would be great to have Nell sleep in his room. He often crept down to the kitchen at night to see if she was all right.

  Tom picked up the cat basket and carefully carried it upstairs.

  Nell stirred and gave a little miaow. In her dreams she was flying through the air.

  Tom had just reached his bedroom door when Hattie bounded up behind him.

  “It’s not fair you having Nell,” Hattie said, grabbing the basket.

  “We want to have her too,” said Jo, coming up behind Hattie.

  “Well, Mum said she could go in my room,” said Tom, trying to grab the basket back.

  “No, in ours,” his sisters hissed.

  “Mine!”

  “Ours!” Hattie tugged the basket and Nell tumbled onto the floor. She woke up with a start and shot off into Tom’s room and hid under his bed.

  “See. She likes my room the best anyway,” said Tom.

  “No she doesn’t!” said Hattie crossly, still holding the basket.

  “You just scared her, that’s all,” said Jo.

  “Didn’t.”

  “Did.”

  “Stop it, you three!” Mrs Morgan yelled up the stairs. “Tom, are you looking after that kitten?”

  “Yes, Mum!” yelled Tom.

  “Good!” shouted Mrs Morgan.

  Hattie pushed the basket back at Tom and stuck her tongue out.

  Tom crossed his eyes and if he hadn’t been holding the basket he would have stuck his fingers up his nose too. He waited until Hattie and Jo had clumped off downstairs and then he went into his room and closed the door.

  He scooped Nell out from under his bed, brushed some fluff off her nose and cuddled her tightly. “You’ve got to be good from now on, Nell,” he said.

  “Miaow,” replied Nell.

  “I mean it,” said Tom, trying to be stern again but not doing very well.

  Nell saw Tom was smiling and licked his hand. She liked being in Tom’s room. She snuggled down and went back to sleep.

  Chapter Two

  When Tom woke up the next morning he found Nell curled up on the pillow beside him. Suddenly there was a hammering on the door and Hattie and Jo burst into the room.

  Tom sat up with a start and Nell hid under the duvet.

  “There are ten of them!” shouted Hattie, dancing round the room.

  “And they’re so sweet!” yelled Jo as she leapt onto Tom’s bed.

  And they’re so loud! thought Nell. She poked her nose out from under the duvet and sniffed. There was a smell around Jo and Hattie that reminded her of something. It reminded her of . . . PIG. Nell sneezed.

  “Phew,” said Tom to Hattie and Jo, “You both smell of . . .”

  “Piglets!” said Jo.

  “Piglets?” asked Tom. ‘You mean Poppy’s had her . . .”

  “Piglets!” Hattie and Jo squealed like a couple of big piglets themselves. They rushed out of the bedroom and slammed the door behind them.

  Tom sighed and snuggled back down in bed. Sometimes his sisters were so noisy he wished he had earplugs, or a soundproof bedroom, or even better, a sisterproof bedroom.

  When he was sure that Hattie and Jo had gone away, Tom got out of bed. He wanted to see if the piglets were all right. He was a bit worried that the piglets had arrived so early and hoped that it wasn’t Nell’s fault.

  Tom got dressed, gave Eric some fish food and left Nell fast asleep on his pillow. He was soon outside in the morning sunshine.

  “Morning, Tom.” Mrs Morgan popped her head up over the wall of the pigpen.

  “Morning, Mum!” said Tom. “Is Poppy OK?” he asked anxiously. “I mean, the piglets . . . well, they were early and I wondered if it was because of Nell . . .”

  Tom’s mum opened the gate to the pigpen for Tom to come in and look. She was smiling broadly. “They’re all just fine, Tom. I don’t think Nell did any harm. Poppy probably had them early because it is such a big litter. She’s never had so many piglets before and she’s looking after them very well. Isn’t she clever?”

  Mrs Morgan bent down and stroked Poppy’s head. Poppy snuffled and snorted while she lay on the straw feeding a long line of tiny, wriggling, pink piglets.

  “Wow!” said Tom. “I’ve never seen so many piglets!”

  “I’m really pleased,” said Mrs Morgan proudly. “And how is Nell? Was she good last night?”

  “Really good,” said Tom. “I thin
k she’s going to behave from now on,” he added hopefully. He looked at the wriggling piglets lying close to their mum. They reminded him of when he had first seen Nell with all her brothers and sisters. They’d been gathered round their mum, a big tabby cat that lived on another farm.

  Tom decided he’d better get back to his room to see if she was still behaving herself. “I’ll go and give Nell some breakfast, Mum,” he said.

  “OK, Tom,” Mrs Morgan said. “But I think we need to keep Nell indoors today, until Poppy has got used to her new litter. Nell can come back out tomorrow.”

  “Great,” said Tom, smiling happily. All he had to do was make sure Nell stayed out of trouble from now on.

  Easy! Tom thought as he walked back to the kitchen to get Nell’s breakfast.

  Impossible! he thought a few minutes later, when he opened his bedroom door. There was Nell, perched on the edge of a shelf just above the fish tank, staring at Eric.

  Oh, no! Tom realised he must have left the lid off Eric’s tank again.

  Inside the fish tank was one very scared goldfish.

  Nell was just dipping a paw into the water when she glanced up and saw Tom. “Hello,” she miaowed. “Just doing a spot of fishing!”

  “Nell!” yelled Tom. As soon as he said it he knew he shouldn’t have.

  Suddenly Nell forgot where her front paws were and they slipped and slid – then fell – straight into the fish tank. The rest of Nell followed. Splash!

  Chapter Three

  “Youuwwll!” Nell cried. The wet stuff was horrible.

  Inside his underwater castle, Eric the goldfish had decided to play dead. For a goldfish, Eric was quite bright.

  Tom ran over to the tank and scooped Nell out. Holding the dripping kitten under one arm, Tom used his other hand to touch Eric gently.

  Eric flicked his tail and shot out from his castle.

  Tom breathed a sigh of relief, but was cross with himself. His mum was always telling him not to leave the lid off Eric’s tank. He put the lid back on firmly, then went to the airing cupboard for an old towel to rub Nell dry.

  “Thanks for rescuing me, Tom,” Nell mewed weakly. She looked up at him, but Tom didn’t smile. Nell felt miserable.

  Tom wrapped Nell in a rather rough, threadbare towel then carried her down to the kitchen where it was warmer. “Cats are meant to be afraid of water, not jump into it!” he said sternly as he rubbed her dry. Nell looked very small and skinny with her wet fur.

  Tom did smile then. “You look like a little rat,” he said, “except I’ve never seen a tabby rat before.”

  Nell began to feel better. Her fur felt warmer and less heavy. She yawned. All the excitement had made her tired, so she curled up in her towel and went to sleep.

  Tom put Nell down by the radiator and was about to go and top up Eric’s tank with water when Hattie and Jo came in, carrying two almost full trays of eggs from the hens.

  “Look at all the eggs we got this morning. Forty-four!” said Hattie.

  “Mum was really happy,” said Jo.

  They stacked them carefully on the table. “We’re going out to see Poppy and her piglets now,” they told Tom.

  “OK,” said Tom. He left Nell fast asleep by the radiator and shot off upstairs to sort out Eric.

  Eric was fine. He was happily swimming around in about 10 centimetres of water, wondering what had happened to the rest of it. Eric had already forgotten about Nell falling in. Although Eric had a good memory for a goldfish, he still forgot everything after about five minutes.

  Tom filled up the fish tank, gave Eric some more fish food and made sure he put the lid on. Then he heard the crash.

  Tom bounded down the stairs, expecting the worst. And he was right. Nell was on the kitchen table. On the kitchen floor were one upturned tray and a couple of dozen smashed eggs.

  “Oh, Nell, look what you’ve done!” gasped Tom, staring in horror at the oozing, slimy mess.

  Nell looked at Tom’s face and thought she’d better get off the table. As she sprang down, Hattie burst into the kitchen.

  “Mum wants her coat – aagh!” Hattie skidded on the eggs and banged right into the draining board. A glass and two cereal bowls toppled to the floor with a clatter as Hattie came to a halt.

  “Oh no,” groaned Tom.

  “What a mess!” shouted Mrs Morgan when she ran in to see what was happening. “What has been going on?”

  “Wow!” breathed Jo as she rushed in too, not wanting to be left out.

  Nell sat crouched in the corner on her threadbare towel and looked at Tom’s mum.

  Tom’s mum looked at Nell. “Did Nell do this?” she demanded.

  “Not all of it,” miaowed Nell, beginning to lick her paws, which were sticky with egg. All this noise and fuss – she wished more than anything that she was still safely asleep in her basket up in Tom’s room.

  “Well, Tom? Did she?” asked Mrs Morgan sternly.

  “Sort of . . . I suppose . . .” Tom said reluctantly.

  “I thought so,” said his mum. “That kitten is nothing but trouble! I don’t think she’ll ever make a good farm cat. We won’t have a farm left if she carries on like this!” Mrs Morgan sighed. “I really think Nell may have to go and live somewhere else,” she said quietly.

  “No, Mum!” cried Tom.

  Nell looked down at her eggy paws, feeling very miserable.

  “But Mum, Nell didn’t break the crockery,” said Hattie. “I knocked it all on the floor when I slipped on the eggs.”

  “And I’m sure Nell didn’t mean to break the eggs, Mum,” said Tom. “Please give her another chance. Please!”

  “Please!” said Hattie and Jo.

  Mrs Morgan looked at the three pleading faces. “All right,” she said, sighing again. “One more chance. Just one! But that’s it, OK?”

  “OK, Mum,” said Tom, smiling in relief.

  While Hattie and Jo helped Tom clear up the broken eggs and smashed crockery, Mrs Morgan went out to feed the pigs.

  Nell sat quietly under the radiator and carried on cleaning her paws.

  The kitchen was soon clean and tidy again. Hattie and Jo ran off outside to play.

  Tom decided he ought to try and get back in his mum’s good books. He’d go and help her with the pigs. “Back soon, Nell,” he said. “Be good.”

  Nell stopped licking her paws and watched the door close behind Tom. Then she watched it swing open again as it came off the latch.

  Nell sat and looked at the slight opening in the kitchen door. Her nose twitched. It was such a lovely warm day and the farmyard sent such interesting smells wafting her way.

  She sat there a bit longer. Then she decided. She could be just as good sitting by the open door, couldn’t she? She crept over to the doorway and poked her little pink nose out into the sunshine . . .

  Chapter Four

  Over in Poppy’s pen, Tom and his mum were giving Poppy and her piglets some clean straw to lie on. Suddenly a burst of squawking came from the duck pond.

  Tom’s heart thumped quickly. Nell! He rushed out just in time to see Nell scooting round the pond, chasing all the ducks into the water. He caught the naughty kitten almost at once, but by then Tom’s mum had seen what had happened.

  “I’ll take Nell inside and shut her in my room,” said Tom quickly.

  Mrs Morgan nodded crossly. “And make sure she stays there this time,” she snapped. “I’ve had quite enough of that kitten today.”

  Nell could tell that she was in trouble again. Tom took her up to his room and played with her for a while, but Nell could see that he was thinking about something else. After a while, she went over to snooze in the warm sunshine by the window.

  Nell was right, Tom was thinking about something. He was thinking about Nell’s last chance and hoping that his mum did not mean what she had said.

  But that evening, when Tom was on his way to clean his teeth, he heard his mum and dad talking in the kitchen.

  “Tom will be very upset
,” Tom’s dad was saying. “He’s become especially fond of Nell.”

  “I know,” sighed Tom’s mum, “but that kitten is never going to settle down here. It would be kinder to let Julie take Nell now so that she can get used to a new home while she’s still young.”

  “Maybe . . .” said Mr Morgan. “But let’s give it just a little bit longer, just for Tom.”

  “You’re a big softie,” Tom heard his mum say. “OK, one last chance, then.”

  Tom rushed back to Nell. He picked her up and hugged her tightly. “From now on you really, really have to stop being so naughty, Nell,” he told her. “Otherwise you have to go and live with Auntie Julie.”

  Nell was having a strange dream about being hugged by a talking pig. She gave a muffled miaow.

  Tom smiled. He loved Auntie Julie, but there was no way she was going to have Nell . . .

  The next day was hot and sunny. Tom’s mum and dad were busy up in the fields turning the hay so that it dried in the sunshine.

  Nell was sitting quietly on Tom’s windowsill, gazing out at the sunny farmyard. She stuck her pink nose right up against the window and wished she was outside too, having fun.

  Her eyes followed Tom as he walked up to the field where Mr and Mrs Morgan were working. Nell could see Hattie and Jo in the far corner of the field, where they were allowed to play with the hay. They had built a big pile and were jumping into it. It looked like fun!

  And now Tom was joining in. Nell yawned and stretched. She wanted some fun too!

  She jumped down from the windowsill and went downstairs to explore. But the kitchen door was firmly shut. And so was the door to the sitting-room.

  Nell scampered back upstairs. She looked in the bathroom. Nothing much to play with in there. The next room she came to looked far more interesting . . .

  When lunchtime arrived, Mrs Morgan called Tom, Hattie and Jo over. “Hay monsters!” she laughed, as they arrived, picking bits of hay out of their hair and clothes.