Bad Cat, Good Cat

by Lynne Reid Banks

  “No, Mum, no! Please don’t say that! He’s a lovely cat, he doesn’t mean to be bad! All he needs is to – to grow up a bit, he’s only a baby…”

  “A baby? That – that polar bear? If he grows any more we’ll have to get the doors made bigger!”

  “I’ll train him, Mum. I’ll teach him. Please don’t be angry with him!”

  David’s mum looked into his pleading eyes.

  “All right, David,” she said. “I’m sorry. Sometimes things get too much. I think I need a holiday.”

  She went indoors, leaving David feeling helpless and scared. It was all very well to talk about ‘training’ Turk, but how do you train a bad cat to be good?

  11. The Night Party

  Paloma’s dad finally got round to buying a catflap and fitting it into the back door. Paloma held Peony and gently pushed her through the catflap until she got the idea. Till now she had always been shut in at night and only allowed out in the daytime. Now she could come and go as she liked.

  On her first night outside, she met Turk for the second time.

  This didn’t go too well.

  She walked happily around her garden, sniffing all the different smells (so much sharper at night, somehow), and eating some lovely grass. Suddenly a white something dropped as if from nowhere right in front of her.

  It was Turk, of course. By this point he’d decided Paloma’s garden was part of his territory, no matter how often Paloma’s mum and dad shooed him out. Peony started away, but then walked up to him and tried to touch noses.

  “Hsssssss!” hissed Turk. “Get away from me, you skinny little black toe-claw!”

  Peony sat down and washed her face.

  “Are all fat white cats as rude as you?” she asked.

  “How dare you say I’m fat! Fluffy isn’t fat! Get out of my territory before I scratch your ear off!”

  “Like somebody nearly did to yours?” asked Peony sweetly. “That must hurt a lot. Let me lick it better for you.”

  And she tried to. He backed away. Let some little girl cat lick his ear? Not likely! “Keep off! I’m the Big Cat around here, and don’t you forget it!”

  “Maybe in your own territory. This is my garden.”

  “It’s part of my range. I’ve sprayed all over it.”

  “Yes, I noticed,” she said. “But it’s still my garden. “

  “I suppose you’re going to chase me out of it!”

  “No. I don’t mind you being here, if you don’t hiss at me.”

  Turk was baffled. He sat down a little way away and stared at her.

  “I’ve never been out at night before,” Peony said. “What shall we do?”

  “I’m going to call a night party,” said Turk. “But girl cats can’t come.”

  “Oh? Why not?”

  “Because night parties are strictly for boy cats.”

  “All right,” she said. “I’ll just stay and watch.”

  “It’ll be on the wall,” he said. “Of course, you’re too small to climb up there.”

  This was true. She was only just fully grown and she hadn’t done much climbing. But she saw there was a tree that leaned up against the wall. She’d been climbing her scratching post since she was a kitten. A scratching post was very like a tree.

  She protracted her claws and got a good grip on the tree. After the first little bit, it got easier, and soon she had hiked herself up to the top of the wall. She’d never been so high up before. It was great up here. She could see all the gardens around and smell lots of different smells.

  Suddenly she smelled one that made her stiffen.

  “What’s that smell?” she asked.

  “Dog,” said Turk. “There’s a rotten dog that lives over there.”

  “Why is he rotten?”

  “Why is he rotten? Are you stupid? Because he’s a dog, that’s why!”

  Peony was more sure than ever that this cat was the rudest cat it was possible to live next door to. She thought of jumping down and going home, but she didn’t.

  Turk started making yowling noises. Soon some other boy cats arrived. They sat along the wall and made even louder noises than Turk. It seemed as if each one was trying to make more noise than the others.

  Peony yawned.

  After a bit, one of the boy cats pounced on another and began hissing and scratching and biting. It was really scary for Peony. She moved closer to Turk.

  “Is this the night party?” she asked. “If so, I don’t think I like it much.”

  “Rubbish! This is fun!” said Turk between yowls. But still, he sat on the wall between Peony and the two cats who were fighting. At last they fought so hard, they fell right off the wall. They landed in the flowerbed and shot off in different directions.

  Peony stood up. “I think night parties are silly,” she said. “I’m going home.”

  “Go on then!” said Turk.

  She didn’t know him well enough to see that really he wished she’d stay.

  She decided not to go down by the tree, like a kitten. She wasn’t a kitten any more. So she pointed her head at the ground, on her side of the wall, and slithered down to the bottom, gripping with her claws. She didn’t land very well and clinging to the bricks made her claws hurt, but she’d done it and she felt good about that.

  She slipped through the catflap and had a snack. Then she went and sat in her favourite place on the back of the armchair. She gave herself a good wash and then went to sleep, thinking, “Boy cats are stupid. I’m so glad I’m a girl cat.”

  Outside the cats were still yowling. But after a while they all went home. All except Turk.

  12. A Brave Little Cat

  Turk jumped down from the wall and pushed his way through Peony’s catflap.

  In her sleep, Peony heard it go ‘clack’. She woke up at once and lifted her head, her ears pricked forward. She listened for a moment, then jumped to the floor and ran into the kitchen.

  Turk was sniffing one of her bowls.

  “Is this what they give you to eat?” he said. “Smells good.”

  And he began to eat Peony’s food! She didn’t like that one bit. In fact she couldn’t believe it.

  “You should go away,” she said. “This is my house.”

  Turk finished the food and licked his lips. “I like it here. I think I’ll stick around,” he said.

  Something new and strange was happening inside Peony. She was not happy about this. She knew Turk shouldn’t be here. And what was this faint growling sound she was making?

  Turk went into the living room. Peony went after him, her tail sticking straight up and the fur on her shoulders starting to bristle. Turk was clawing the armchair.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Sharpening my claws. What does it look like?”

  “I have a special place for that,” said Peony. “I never sharpen my claws on their things.”

  “I do. All the time.” And he did some more of it.

  “You should go home!” said Peony. That was definitely a growl. It surprised her.

  He looked at her. “And if I don’t – you’re going to do something to me?” he asked. “A skinny little black girl cat like you? I don’t think so.”

  And to make his point, he actually sprayed the leg of the armchair.

  The strange feeling Peony had was getting stronger. This was her house. This big white boy cat shouldn’t be here, eating her food and spoiling things.

  Now he was up on the back of the armchair. He was curling up – in her favourite place!

  She put her ears back, opened her mouth, and hissed. She’d never hissed before. She’d never been so angry before.

  “Go away – now!” she spat furiously.

  He peered down at her, his white face like a – well, I was going to compare it to the moon on a dark night, but to Peony it just looked like what it was – the face of a big white boy cat that shouldn’t be there.

  “You can’t make me go! Just you try!” he hissed.

/>   That did it.

  Peony made a mighty leap, and landed on him.

  They were suddenly a tangled ball of legs and ears and teeth and fur – black fur and white fur, mixed. They fell off the chair with a thump, with Turk on top. Peony felt a pain where she’d landed on the floor. That made her really lose it.

  Turk had had fights – plenty of them. But never like this. They bounced from the floor to the sofa and from the sofa to the floor. Turk jumped on the table. Peony jumped on top of him. They knocked a lot of things on to the floor, making a terrific noise.

  Peony was as fierce as a little black panther. She was biting and scratching – hissing and snarling. At last, Turk couldn’t take it any more.

  He broke away, and fled through the catflap, leaving it going clack-clack-clack behind him.

  The noise of the fight had woken Paloma and her mum and dad. They came running down the stairs. They found their good little Peony looking like a witch’s cat, her tail like a bottle-brush, her back arched and her mouth like a snake, still hissing.

  The room was a mess. There was white fur all over the place. It was even in the air, as if a pillow had burst.

  “Peony! What happened? Are you all right?” cried Paloma. She picked her up and stroked all her black fur smooth again. She held her to her face and kissed her – something her mum said was unhygienic. But this time she didn’t say anything.

  “She was guarding the house,” said Paloma’s dad. “What a brave little cat! Looks like she sent that bad cat from next door packing!”

  They made a big fuss of Peony. They filled up her food bowl from a nice fresh sachet of Felix. Rules were forgotten. Peony slept on Paloma’s bed that night.

  Turk crept home through the dark. He felt awful. He was scratched and bitten. He was stinging all over. But that wasn’t the worst. His pride was hurt. A little girl cat had made him run away.

  He crept up to David’s room and slithered on to the bed. He licked his scratches and bites for a long time. Then he slid under the duvet.

  He wanted to hide himself. He curled up next to David’s feet. When he fell asleep, he had horrible cat-dreams. He dreamed of being on the wall. A lot of his boy cat friends came and cat-laughed at him. They knew. They’d seen. He felt ashamed. Not ashamed of being bad – of course not. Ashamed of being beaten by a girl cat.

  He woke up thinking he’d never dare to show his whiskers outdoors again.

  13. David and Paloma Have a Row

  The day after the big fight, Paloma’s mum went to talk to David’s mum. They had a coffee together. Did they have a lovely motherly gossip? Of course not. They talked cats.

  “Your cat got into our house last night,” Paloma’s mum said.

  David’s mum passed the biscuits. “I’m not at all surprised! That cat’s into everything! What happened? Did your cat have a fight with him?”

  “Yes, she did. And she beat him too.”

  “He’s in a real mess. He won’t go out now. He just creeps under the sofa and makes muttering noises. David says that’s how cats swear! Poor David’s very upset. I can’t bear the cat, myself, but David loves him. I don’t know what to do.”

  They had another biscuit and talked about litter-trays. The litter-trays in both houses were being used again, because Peony wouldn’t go out, either.

  After a while, David’s mum started to talk about summer holidays. She said they were going to Wales to stay in a cottage. The cottage had room for another family. She asked if Paloma’s family might like to come too.

  “The children would love it. It’s right by the sea, and they could play together.”

  Paloma’s mum thought this was a pretty good idea. She said she’d talk to Paloma’s dad about it. Neither of the mothers thought for a moment that their kids wouldn’t want to go if it meant leaving the cats behind.

  And it did mean that. The cottage was a no-pets zone. The owners were allergic to all animals. Especially cats.

  While the holiday business was being settled by the grown-ups, Paloma’s mum invited David for a play-date with Paloma. Paloma liked David and all that, but a play-date? Play-dates were with other girls. Besides, she wasn’t feeling like talking cats with David. Not after what had happened.

  The minute they were left alone, she said, “Turk shouldn’t have come into our house.”

  “Peony shouldn’t have bitten and scratched him.”

  “Turk’s a burglar.”

  “Peony’s cruel.”

  “She is not cruel! She was guarding the house!”

  “Turk was just visiting, like I visit you! What would happen if you started biting and scratching me?”

  “Well, I might, if you came in the night without being asked!”

  David thought this was an awful thing to say.

  “I’m glad I’ve got a tom! Toms are much better than queens!” David was showing off by using the right words for male and female cats, but things were getting out of hand.

  The next thing would have been, “Boys are better than girls!” and “Girls are better than boys!” But before they could get into that, Paloma’s mum suggested going out for a pizza, so the rowing had to stop. But it wasn’t much of a play-date. They ended up (despite the pizzas) not speaking to each other.

  “This is too silly,” Paloma’s mum scolded, when she found out about it. “Well, you’ll have to get over it, because we’re all going on holiday together.”

  “With the cats,” said Paloma. It wasn’t a question. It was an of-course-we’ll-take-them. But her mum said, “I’m afraid not.”

  Paloma stared at her. “We’re not taking them?” Her mum shook her head. “But – but – but – what’ll happen to them? We can’t just leave them here alone!”

  “No, of course not. We’re putting them in a cattery.”

  This was one cat word Paloma hadn’t heard. “A what-ery?”

  “It’s a special place where cats can be looked after while their families go away.”

  “Will she be in a cage?”

  “Er – well… she might.”

  “You mean – a cat prison?”

  “No, no! It’s – it’s just a nice friendly place. She’ll be perfectly happy there.”

  “Without us? In a strange place? In a cage? She’ll hate it!”

  “Of course she won’t! Anyway, she’ll have to go. We can’t take her with us.”

  Paloma forgot all about not speaking to David. She was round at his house in a flash. She rang their special ring. David came slowly. He was still not speaking.

  “I’ve got a new cat-word,” said Paloma grimly. “‘Cat-tery.’ It’s a prison for cats.”

  David scowled. “What do you mean?”

  “We’re supposed to be going on holiday together, you and us, and the grown-ups are putting our cats in some horrible place while we’re away!”

  After a moment, David said, “Well, I’m not going.”

  “Me neither! I won’t go without Peony!”

  Their row forgotten, they did spit-in-your-hand-and-do-high-fives. That was their way of promising. Unless they could take the cats, they wouldn’t go anywhere. And nobody could make them.

  Well, of course that turned out to be just empty words. Because, when grown-ups say something is going to happen, the kids can make all the fuss they like. It’s going to happen.

  14. Peony and Turk Make it Up

  A few days went by. Turk and Peony began to feel a bit better after their fight. They missed going out. One night Peony felt brave. She pushed her way out through the catflap. Not her usual little jump – she went leg by leg, looking all around.

  She was still feeling upset. She knew girl cats aren’t meant to fight.

  Outside in the cat-friendly darkness, she felt like her old self. She climbed the tree on to the wall and sat quietly, looking down into the next garden. The moon came out from behind a cloud. Suddenly she saw the catflap next door open and a white head poked slowly out.

  Turk had had a cat-to-cat talk to
himself. If I don’t go out, he thought, they’ll think I’m scared. Maybe that – that – that – girl cat thing hasn’t told anyone she beat me.

  Anyway, he was bored to death staying indoors all the time.

  Peony crouched down into the ivy. It hid her completely.

  Turk slithered through his catflap. He looked around. He couldn’t see any other cats. He walked carefully to the wall, and took a flying leap.

  He landed – right on top of Peony.

  He got an awful fright. She did too.

  After a brief skirmish, they both fell off the wall on opposite sides. They didn’t go back through their catflaps. They just crouched there. Turk was on the moonlit side. He looked like a ghost cat. Peony was on the dark side. She looked like a shadow.

  At last, Turk made a soft sound. Peony heard it. He said, “I didn’t see you.”

  She said, “It didn’t hurt.” She wanted to say, “I’m sorry I bit you.” But she decided not to. She thought he might not want to think about that any more. And she was quite right. What he wanted was to forget all about it.

  But he wasn’t ready to do anything that might look as if he wasn’t still the local Big Cat.

  “Come back on the wall,” he said in a bossy, Big Cat sort of way.

  She climbed the tree on to the wall.

  “What are you doing out here?” Turk asked her.

  “I came out to… to see if you’d come out,” she said.

  “Of course I came out! Why wouldn’t I?” He wondered if she’d come out every night since the fight, looking for him.

  “Well, that’s all right then,” she said.

  They sat there in the moonlight, looking at each other. Turk knew their fight was over. He was glad, suddenly. Very glad. In fact, he felt gladder than he’d ever felt before.

  Peony saw that Turk had a big, raw scratch on his nose.

  She put her head forward slowly. That brought her nose close to his. He didn’t move away or say anything. She put out her tongue and licked him.