The Cat Who Came in Off the Roof

by Annie M. G. Schmidt

  “What’s the matter?”

  “I’m such a moron,” the Tatter Cat said. “I forgot there was something I had to tell you… all this maternal love has gone to my head.”

  “That’s OK. Tell me now.”

  “It’s not for the paper. It’s a personal message for you. Your aunt was here. Your Aunt Sooty. She wanted to talk to you but she’s too old to go up on the rooftops and that’s why she left the message with me.”

  “What did she want?”

  “She asked if you’d drop by. She’s had a visit from your sister.”

  Minou jumped. “My… my sister? But she lives miles away. Right out on the other side of town. What was she doing here?”

  “Take it easy,” said the Tatter Cat. “That’s all I know. I’m as purrplexed as you. Ha-ha, good joke, huh? And when you come tomorrow make sure you get all the bones out of the fish first.”

  “Is it all right if I bring my human to visit? Just once.” Minou asked. “And Bibi?”

  “Bibi’s OK,” the Tatter Cat said without hesitating. “She drew me. Have you seen it?”

  “It’s a beautiful likeness,” said Minou.

  “But I don’t know about Tibble… I’m scared he’ll start fussing,” said the Tatter Cat. “He’s a fusser. Even worse than you. He’ll want to take my babies away… arrange vets and jabs and looking for homes… All that…”

  “I’ll tell him he’s not allowed to make a fuss,” Minou said. “See you tomorrow.”

  On the way home she took a detour through Aunt Sooty’s garden. She stayed in among the shrubs, but as soon as she let out a short miaow, her elderly aunt came out through the cat flap.

  “You haven’t made much progress,” Aunt Sooty said disapprovingly. “No tail, no whiskers and you’re still wearing that horrible two-piece suit.”

  “I heard…” Minou began.

  “Yes, yes,” Aunt Sooty interrupted her. “Your sister was here.”

  Minou trembled and her voice was a little hoarse when she asked, “My sister from Victoria Avenue?”

  “Yes, of course it was the one from Victoria Avenue,” Aunt Sooty said. “You don’t have any other sisters, do you?”

  “She chased me away,” said Minou. “Out of the house and out of the garden. She was angry at me. Because I wasn’t a cat any more. I wasn’t allowed to come back, ever, that’s what she said.”

  “Quite understandable,” Aunt Sooty nodded. “But she says hello. She’s not angry any more. She feels sorry for you.”

  “Can I go back?” Minou asked. “Does she want me back?”

  “Not like you are now!” Aunt Sooty exclaimed. “First you have to turn back into a respectable cat, obviously.”

  “It was such a lovely garden on Victoria Avenue,” Minou said. “It was my own garden and my own house… and our Woman was kind to us. Do you think the Woman would want me back?”

  “Of course she would, as long as you’re normal again,” Aunt Sooty said. “And shall I let you in on a secret? Your sister has found out where it came from. This… condition of yours. She had the same thing.”

  “What?” Minou cried. “Is she—”

  “Shhh… not so loud,” Aunt Sooty said. “No, she isn’t… but almost. She started getting human traits too. Her whiskers fell out… her tail began to disappear… It was all because you ate out of the rubbish bin at the institute. That’s what your sister says.”

  “Is that what caused it?” Minou said. “That was the building next door to our house in Victoria Avenue… There was always a rubbish bin outside. And sometimes I found something to eat in it.”

  “Exactly,” said Aunt Sooty. “You ate more of it than your sister. She got over it.”

  “Just like that? Did it go away of its own accord?”

  “No, she says she found some kind of cure… something that made her normal again. But if you want to know the details, you have to drop by.”

  “Oh,” said Minou.

  “And if I were you, I’d do it sooner rather than later,” said Aunt Sooty. “It’s gone on long enough. What are you waiting for?”

  “I’m not a hundred per cent sure I want to,” said Minou.

  “You’re mad,” Aunt Sooty cried. “Your one chance, your last chance to turn back into a proper cat. And you’re not sure you want to!”

  “I’m umming and ahing,” said Minou.

  Aunt Sooty went back into the house in a huff and Minou went home, to her own roof, where she sat down to watch the moon rise over the Social Security Building. The smell of blossoms rose up from the gardens far below and in the gutters around the roofs there were all kinds of cat smells. It was very confusing.

  The next morning Tibble gave her a package.

  “A present,” he said. “Because I’ve had a pay rise.”

  “How beautiful, thank you,” said Minou. It was a pair of gloves.

  “They’re for the reception,” explained Tibble.

  “The reception?”

  “There’s a reception this afternoon at the Metropole Hotel. To celebrate Mr Smith’s anniversary. And I’d like you to come with me, Miss Minou. A lot of people will be coming.”

  “Then I don’t want to,” said Minou.

  “It would be very good for you,” said Tibble. “And for me too. We’re both shy and we both have to Learn to Dare. I think the fishmonger will be there too.”

  “Oh,” said Minou.

  “I bought the gloves,” Tibble said, “because I thought, then, if you scratch someone, it won’t be so bad.”

  “I think I’d rather go back home,” Minou said. “I’m scared.”

  They were on Green Square in front of the Metropole Hotel, where the reception for Mr Smith was being held. There were a lot of cars out the front and people were streaming into the hotel.

  Minou was wearing her new gloves, but now she’d seen how busy it was, she felt very nervous.

  “Don’t be afraid,” Tibble said. “Look, there’s Bibi coming out of the hotel.”

  Bibi skipped up to them with a beaming smile on her face.

  “What have you got there?” Tibble cried. “A camera!”

  “First prize,” said Bibi. “I won first prize in the drawing competition.”

  “And rightly so!”

  “It’s hanging on the wall,” Bibi said. “In the reception room. They’ve hung up all our drawings. And they let me help present the gift.”

  “Are you going back in again?” Minou asked.

  Bibi shook her head. “This afternoon is for grown-ups,” she said. “We’ve already had our party. At school.”

  She walked on and Tibble said, “Come on, Miss Minou, let’s go in. And remember! No purring, no hissing and don’t rub up against anyone, not even the fishmonger.”

  “There won’t be any dogs, will there?” Minou asked anxiously.

  “No. Dogs don’t come to receptions.”

  Inside, it was extremely crowded. Mr Smith and his wife were sitting on a raised platform with floral arrangements left and right, and the children’s drawings were on the wall behind them. It was a lovely exhibition and the picture of the Tatter Cat was hanging in pride of place with a card saying First Prize next to it.

  “Ah, look!” cried Mr Smith. “There’s Tibble. My dear Tibble, I’m so pleased you could make it. Look at the present I got from all the people in the neighbourhood. A colour TV! Isn’t that fantastic?”

  Tibble shook Mr Smith’s hand and said, “This is my secretary, Miss Minou.”

  “How do you do?” said Mr Smith. “I believe I’ve seen you before, haven’t I? In a tree…”

  Other people came up to shake his hand and congratulate him and Tibble and Minou walked on. All round the room there were groups of people gathered together to talk. There was the fishmonger. He waved at Minou and she blushed. And the baker’s wife nodded hello as well and Minou started to feel more and more at ease.

  It’s going well, thought Tibble with a sense of relief. She’s not cattish at all today.


  Mrs Van Dam was there too, in her fur coat, talking to a few other ladies, who nudged each other and looked in their direction.

  Minou started getting nervous again. “Just ignore them,” said Tibble.

  They came to a table with all kinds of delicious snacks on it. Pieces of sliced sausage on toothpicks. And blocks of cheese on toothpicks.

  “Can you just help yourself?” Minou asked.

  “Later,” said Tibble.

  Now a large man wearing glasses and a pin-striped suit came in.

  The room fell silent. Everyone bowed their heads low and respectfully in greeting.

  “Is that the Mayor?” Minou whispered.

  “No,” Tibble whispered back. “It’s the owner of the factory, Mr Ellmore. He’s really important. And he does a lot of good.”

  “What’s he do that’s good?” Minou asked.

  “He gives money to all kinds of charities.”

  Minou had more questions, but people around them had started going “Shhhh”.

  “Mr Ellmore’s about to speak,” they said. Everyone pushed forward to listen and Minou and Tibble got separated in the crowd.

  Tibble was pushed over to one side while Minou was jostled all the way to the front, close to the small table behind which Mr Ellmore was giving his speech.

  “Mr Smith,” he began, “Ladies and gentlemen…”

  Everyone was quiet.

  “I am delighted to see so many people here this afternoon…”

  Mr Ellmore was holding his car key in one hand and swung it gently back and forth over the table while speaking.

  He swung it gently back and forth over the table.

  Tibble looked at Minou and saw to his shock that her eyes were moving from side to side like at a tennis match. She wasn’t listening at all, she was just staring intently at the swinging key, like a cat that’s seen something move.

  She’s about to cuff it, thought Tibble, and he coughed very loudly, but she didn’t notice.

  “Many among us were once taught by Mr Smith…” the speaker continued. “And we all—”

  Whack.

  Minou’s gloved hand smacked the key and sent it clattering over the table.

  Mr Ellmore was dumbstruck and stared at Minou with astonishment. All the people around her glared. Now she looked like a trapped cat searching for an escape route. Tibble tried to push forward, but all of a sudden she dived down and disappeared among the skirts and legs as she headed for the big table covered with snacks. She was gone.

  Fortunately Mr Ellmore resumed his speech and the listening people soon forgot the incident.

  Tibble snuck glances left and right and tried to look under the table. Had she crept in under it?

  Now the speech was over and Mr Smith gave a few words of thanks. Then waiters came round with trays of drinks and people began eating the snacks. Tibble moped around between the drinking, mingling groups. Where was she?

  Maybe she’d slipped out of the door without anyone seeing? Minou was very good at slinking around and tip-toeing and slipping away unnoticed. Maybe she was home in the attic, in her box.

  Tibble sighed. It had all gone so well. She hadn’t hissed at anyone and she hadn’t scratched anyone… She hadn’t even rubbed up against the fishmonger, but now she’d come up with something new. Another cattish trait.

  He decided to stay a little longer.

  Minou hadn’t gone home. She was still in the hotel. She’d made it through a door without anyone noticing and now she was in another room. A smaller room, a kind of conference room. There was a table with chairs, a big planter box in one corner with lots of plants in it and a goldfish bowl on a cabinet.

  She was alone in the room and she walked straight over to the fishbowl. Two fat goldfish were swimming around in slow circles with gulping mouths and bulging eyes. Completely at ease, swishing their tails now and then.

  Minou bent over the fishbowl.

  “This is really not allowed,” she said to herself. “It’s so cattish. In a moment I won’t be able to control myself. Leave now, Minou… turn around.”

  But the fish were magnets. Two golden magnets tugging on her eyes. All by itself, her right hand with the beautiful long glove reached out to the bowl, just above it and—Voices sounded close by and she pulled her hand back just in time. Just in time, she hid behind the planter box, because the door opened and two people came in.

  One was Mr Smith. The other was Mr Ellmore.

  Minou crouched down behind the ferns and creepers and didn’t make a sound.

  “I was hoping to speak to you for a moment,” Mr Smith said. “It’s so busy in there, and nice and quiet here. This is what it’s about: we, the local residents, would like to set up an association. The Animal Lovers’ Association.”

  Ah, thought Minou behind the plants. News for Mr Tibble. I’d better listen carefully.

  “You know that there are an awful lot of animal lovers here in Killenthorn,” Mr Smith said. “Almost everyone has a cat. The aim of our association is to help as many animals as possible. We want to set up a home for poor stray cats, we’d like an animal hospital… and we hope to show films about animals. I myself…” Mr Smith continued, “am busy preparing a public reading about cats. It’s going to be called ‘The Cat Through the Ages: A Feline History’.”

  More news, thought Minou.

  “And I wanted to ask you,” Mr Smith said, “if you would be willing to be the president of our Animal Lovers’ Association.”

  “Hm…” said Mr Ellmore. “Why me?”

  “You’re so well known,” Mr Smith said. “And you’re so popular here in town. You’re also a known animal lover. You have a cat yourself, I believe.”

  “I have a dog,” said Mr Ellmore. “Mars.”

  Minou started to quake so violently in her corner that the plants began shaking too. Mars! That was the dog that had treed her twice already.

  “Hm…” Mr Ellmore said again. “Of course I’d love to do it, but you see… I’m so terribly busy. I’m already in so many associations and on so many committees. I’m already president of the Child Welfare Commission…”

  “It won’t involve a lot of work,” Mr Smith said. “You won’t need to do very much. It’s more about your name. Everyone has so much faith in you.”

  Mr Ellmore walked across the room and back again with his hands behind his back. He came very close to the planter box, looked at the goldfish for a moment and then peered at the plants for what seemed like a very long time.

  He can see me, thought Minou.

  But he just pulled a dry leaf off a geranium and said, “Well, all right then.”

  “Wonderful, wonderful,” cried Mr Smith. “Thank you very much. We’ll be in touch. Now I’d better get back to my party.”

  They left the room and Minou dared to breathe again.

  She came out and saw an enormous black tom sitting on the ledge of the open window. It was the Hotel Cat. The Metropole Cat.

  “That room’s off-limits,” the cat said. “I’m not allowed in there. Because of the fish. Did you see them?”

  “I almost caught one,” Minou said. “I have to go back to that room with all the people… but I’m scared.”

  “Your human’s looking for you,” the Metropole Cat said. “Out the front, on the terrace. If you climb out through the window you can go round the side. Then you won’t need to go through the people.”

  With a little leap Minou was outside.

  “Bye,” she said and walked around to the front, where Tibble was pacing back and forth.

  “Miss Minou…” he began in a strict voice.

  “I’ve got some more news,” she said.

  She told him what she’d overheard and Tibble nodded gratefully.

  But when they were back home in the attic, he said, “I think you really need to do something about it… all these cattish traits… this cattish behaviour of yours…”

  “What can I do about it?”

  “You have to
go see a doctor.”

  “I don’t want to,” said Minou. “Doctors give you jabs.”

  “No, I don’t mean an ordinary doctor.”

  “What do you mean? An animal doctor?”

  “No, I mean a head doctor. The kind of doctor you talk to when you have problems.”

  “I don’t have any problems,” said Minou.

  “I do,” said Tibble.

  “Then you should go to a head doctor.”

  “My problems are caused by you, Miss Minou. By your strange habits. It was going so well this afternoon at the reception. You were behaving yourself perfectly… until you suddenly whacked that key ring with your paw—I mean, with your hand. Secretaries don’t do things like that.”

  And so the next day Minou found herself sitting in the waiting room at Dr Gilt’s.

  “Perhaps you can start by telling me your name,” the doctor said, holding a pen over a card for his files.

  “Minou.”

  MINOU, he wrote down. “Is that your first name? Or your surname?”

  “It’s the name they gave me.”

  “Ah, Minou is your given name. What’s your family name?”

  She was silent for a very long time, watching a fly buzz past the window. Then she said, “I don’t think I have one.”

  “Really? What’s your father’s name?” the doctor asked, holding his pen ready again.

  Minou thought for a moment, trying to remember, then said quietly, “He was a tom…”

  TOM, wrote the doctor.

  “At the back of a house…”

  BACKHOUSE…

  “Near one of the parks.”

  PARKES…

  “Tom Backhouse-Parkes,” said the doctor, reading what he’d noted down. “That’s your name too then. Miss M. Backhouse-Parkes. Now tell me, what’s bothering you?”

  “Bothering me?” Minou asked. “Nothing’s bothering me at all.”

  “But you wanted to see me. You must have had some reason.”