by Holly Webb
“Oh! Are you purring?” Helena whispered. “Are you feeling better?” She ran her hand gently over his smooth head, and sighed. “If you don’t have an owner, you’ll have to go to the animal shelter when you’re a bit better, so they can look after you till someone wants you. I hope you cheer up before then, caramel cat. You’re so beautiful, and I think you’d be a lovely pet. But no one’s going to take you home if you just hide at the back of your cage. You’ll end up staying at the shelter for ages.”
The little golden cat stayed flopped on his blanket, and Helena tried not to think Maybe for ever…
“So how’s the cat now?” Helena’s friend Katie asked. “I suppose you haven’t seen him since yesterday.”
“No, and I bet Mum’s going to say it’s too late to nip over to the surgery on the way home,” Helena sighed. They were waiting for Helena’s mum to come over from the staff room to pick them up from football club after school. She usually dropped Katie home, too, or sometimes Katie stayed for tea. “She did let me text Lucy last night, and Lucy said he hadn’t taken the cast off again. He still hadn’t tried standing up, though, and he’d not eaten much.”
“And nobody knows who he belongs to?” Katie asked anxiously. “Poor little cat! What’s going to happen to him?”
Helena sighed. “Lucy said that if no one claims him in another day or so, he’ll have to go to the shelter. But I don’t think anyone’s going to want a limpy, miserable cat who won’t even come and say hello, even if he is pretty. They’re putting a photo of him in the local paper, too. Maybe his owner will see that.”
“Sorry I’m late! Are you telling Katie about the cat?” Helena’s mum had hurried up behind the girls without them noticing. “I wonder if they’ve found his owner yet.”
“That’s just what we were talking about,” Helena said, with a tiny sigh. Of course, she did want the cat to go back to his old home. But a little bit of her was imagining him coming home with her instead.
“Don’t worry, Helena,” her mum said gently. “Even if he has to go to the shelter, it’ll be fine. I know quite a few people who’ve got their cats and dogs from there. The animals are looked after really well, and the staff take a lot of care finding new homes for them.”
“I suppose so,” Helena murmured.
Katie gave her a sympathetic look – she realized what Helena was wishing. Her family had a fat black Labrador called Charlie, and Helena loved to come with her to walk him. Katie knew how much her friend wanted a pet of her own.
Lucy called Helena that evening, while she was helping her mum make dinner.
“Has anyone phoned the surgery about the cat?” Helena asked her cousin hopefully. “Is he OK?”
“He’s eating a bit better, but no, still no sign of an owner.” There was a little silence, and then Lucy added, “I told Molly I’d take him home with me in a couple of days. Then I can try and find a home for him when he’s better. I haven’t broken it to Mum and Dad yet, though.”
“Oh, that’s brilliant!” Helena squealed, so loudly that her mum nearly dropped a pan of pasta. Lucy lived with her mum and dad, and her younger twin sisters, and their house wasn’t far from Helena’s. She’d still be able to see the cat all the time. She could go and visit him lots.
“I wasn’t sure the staff at the shelter would have time to look after him properly. He needs a lot of TLC, poor thing.”
“Definitely,” Helena agreed. “Can I pop into the surgery with Gran after my dance lesson tomorrow? It’ll be just as you’re tidying everything up to go home. You know how much Gran loves cats. I told her about him.”
Lucy giggled. “I’m just surprised she hasn’t been round already. See you tomorrow then!”
“Here he is – he’s a bit quiet still.” Helena pointed out the caramel-coloured cat, huddled in the back of the cage and staring out at Helena’s gran rather grumpily. But he shuffled towards the front of the cage when he saw Helena, and she giggled. “That’s right. You ought to be nice – I’ve brought you a present, look.” She pulled a packet of cat treats out of her pocket and ripped the foil. “Tuna flavour! Mmmm… I think they smell awful, but the websites I looked at said most cats love the fishy ones.”
“Beautiful colours in his fur…” Gran murmured. “So when are you taking him home, Lucy?”
“Tomorrow, I think.” Lucy crouched down to look at the cat with them. “He really needs to get out of that little cage and start exercising his leg a bit more now it’s beginning to heal. He’s going to live in the utility room.”
“What did your mum and dad say about it?” Helena asked.
Lucy made a face. “They weren’t that keen… But I explained about the shelter being so busy and I promised we weren’t keeping him for ever. Mum says I have to do all the washing, if there’s to be a cat living in front of her washing machine…”
“Are you finishing work now, Lucy?” Gran said, looking at her watch. “Do you want a lift home? I haven’t seen Emily and Bella for at least a week. We could pop in and say hello.”
Emily and Bella were Lucy’s little sisters, Helena’s cousins. They were only four. Helena loved going to see them – they were always so funny. Usually when she went round she got forced into having her hair redone in some mad style covered in feathers, or glitter.
But as she sat in the back of Gran’s car, she couldn’t help thinking about the cat – so quiet and sad. How was he going to get on with two crazy four-year-olds? Not to mention Lucy’s dog, Billy. He was about as silly as Emily and Bella, and he chased cats, too.
Helena had seen Lucy hanging on to the end of his lead for dear life when they were out for a walk and a cat strolled by.
Helena hugged Emily and Bella when they jumped on her in the hallway, and let them drag her upstairs and paint her nails bright blue (Mum would make her take it off again before school, but never mind). But she didn’t enjoy her visit to her cousins’ house as much as she usually did.
She just couldn’t imagine that frightened little cat living here, even for a short while. Billy was a lovely dog (Emily and Bella had painted his nails blue, too, and he’d let them) but Helena was sure that if he could smell a cat on the other side of the utility room door, he wouldn’t rest until he’d clawed that door to shreds. It wasn’t fair on Billy, either. And the caramel cat would be far too nervous to let Emily and Bella draw pictures all over his cast in sparkly pens.
It wasn’t going to work.
“What’s wrong, Helena?” Gran asked, as they got back into the car. “You’ve gone all quiet.”
“The cat…” Helena said worriedly. “I’m not sure he’ll be able to cope with Lucy’s house, Gran. I’m not being mean – it’s just he’s still so nervous, and there’s so much going on there. I think it’ll make him worse.”
Gran sighed. “I was wondering about that, too. But Lucy said he’ll be shut away in one room…”
“Yeah, but there’s no way Emily and Bella will leave him in there,” Helena pointed out. “They’ll be dressing him in their dolls’ clothes the minute Auntie Sam’s back is turned.”
“Mmmm.” Gran drove down the road, frowning to herself. “I wish I could take him…”
“Snow and Smudge wouldn’t like it, though, would they?” Helena sighed. “Everyone’s already got cats, or dogs, or twins.” She was silent for a minute, and then added, “Except us. Me and Mum. Mum’s always said no, because it wouldn’t be good for a cat to be left alone, but this cat needs to have some peace and quiet. Don’t you think so, Gran?”
“And I could always pop in and see him at lunch time. Make a little fuss over him.” Gran darted a hopeful glance at Helena. “You know, maybe we could persuade your mum together.”
“She already said he was gorgeous when Lucy showed her the photo on her phone.” Helena wound her hands together, over and over. She was suddenly so excited she couldn’t keep still.
If only they could convince her mum…
“But we can’t… We don’t have anywhere to k
eep him.”
“We do, Mum! In here – in the kitchen would be all right. He couldn’t jump on the counter. We could put a blanket in that space under the counter for him, with his food bowls and litter tray, and I promise I’d clean it out, always.”
“I can come and check on him, Clare, at lunch time,” Gran suggested.
Helena’s mum frowned, looking round at her little kitchen.
“He can’t go to Lucy’s house, Mum,” said Helena. “And he’ll be miserable at the shelter, I know he will. No one’s come to claim him, even though we put posters up all round where we found him, and in the vet’s window. He’s been in the local paper today, with a message saying to ring the surgery, but no one has yet. Maybe his owner will see the photo, but he was so thin, Lucy thinks that could mean he’s been a stray for a while. I want to be able to look after him. It feels like I have to, since I was the one who found him.”
Her mum was silent for a moment, then she turned round to look at her. “I suppose not. Oh, Helena. It’s going to be a lot of work, you know. But I am proud of you.”
“You mean … yes?” Helena asked, confused. She’d expected to have to beg for an awful lot longer than that. And even then, deep down, she’d been almost certain that her mum would never agree.
“Yes. I mean, we’d have to give him back, if his real owner contacted the surgery, but yes. Do you think he could stay at the vet’s until the weekend?” her mum asked. “Then we’d have two whole days to get him used to being at our house, before we have to leave him on his own.”
The cat was sitting up the next afternoon when Helena brought her mum to meet him. He peered out of the cage bars, waiting for her. He could hear her talking to someone in the next room, and she sounded excited and happy. She had brought him cat treats the last time she came, fishy ones that he liked. And sometimes she opened the front of the cage and sat for ages, stroking his fur and murmuring to him. She made him feel safe. Even when he was stuck here in this place that wasn’t his home, and he could smell the dogs at the other end of the room.
He sat up, wondering if perhaps she’d let him out of the cage this time. He could sit on her, and then she’d be able to stroke him better and rub his ears.
When he saw the girl come in, he skittered nervously back, knocking his cast against the floor of the cage. She wasn’t on her own – the young woman was with her, the one he saw every day, and someone else, too.
“It’s all right,” Helena murmured. “This is my mum. We’ll be taking you home to our house soon…”
The caramel cat didn’t know what Helena was saying, but he liked hearing her soft voice. And the other person spoke softly, too.
“He’s beautiful, Helena. Even more than in the photos. What are we going to call him? Or have you named him already?”
Helena opened the door of the cage, and the cat stepped out slowly, sniffing at her outstretched hand. She rubbed the dark caramel stripes between his ears, and smiled at her mum.
“I haven’t really named him. But when I think about him, I call him the cat with the caramel fur. Do you think we could call him Caramel?”
“We’re here!” Helena said gratefully, turning round to peer at the crate strapped into the back seat. Caramel had been howling dismally ever since Mum drove off. He clearly hated the crate, and didn’t like the feeling of the moving car at all.
“Do you think being in a car reminds him of the accident?” she asked her mum worriedly.
“No – I think all cats hate being in boxes. Shut in them, I mean. They like getting in by themselves.” Her mum turned off the engine, and looked round, too. “Even when he’s been in the cage at the vet’s for a whole week, it’s not the same. He can’t see out of that travelling basket very well. He’ll be much better when we let him into the kitchen.”
“It’ll probably feel huge,” Helena agreed, opening her door and going to get the basket out of the back. “We’re here, Caramel. This is your house now, too. Just your kitchen for the minute, though. But Molly says you’ll be able to have the plaster off in about three more weeks, since you’re still a kitten, and you’ll heal quicker than a big cat.” She carried the box into the house as she chatted to him, and her mum came in behind her, shutting the door of their little kitchen. There were only the worktops in there, and the oven and the fridge, and Helena was almost sure Caramel wouldn’t be able to jump up on those. So it was a safe place to keep him.
“Look,” she said gently, unlatching the top of the box and taking it off, so Caramel could decide to come out when he wanted to. “There’s a special soft basket for you. And a litter tray. And I’ll get you some food.”
They had gone to the pet shop the night before and got it all – the travel box, and the cushiony basket, and the food bowls. It had been so exciting. Helena had looked at cat toys as well, but they hadn’t bought any, not for the moment. They were all designed for chasing and rolling and batting with paws, and Caramel needed to stay quiet and rest. Helena promised herself she’d go back, once he was better.
Caramel sat pressed against the back of the crate, looking around suspiciously. He hadn’t understood what was happening when they’d lifted him out of the cage and into this horrible little box. Then he’d thought that perhaps they were going home. It had been such a long time since he’d been there.
He hunched his shoulders, ears laid back, and watched Helena and her mum both watching him. But they were quiet and still, and no one was grabbing at him. The fur along his spine flattened down a little and he padded his paws thoughtfully into the blanket. Then he sniffed and shook his ears, standing up a bit lopsided. This wasn’t his old house, of course. But it smelled good. Not like the surgery, full of sharp strong smells that hurt his nose. This place smelled of the girl, and food. He lurched out of the basket, his plastered leg tangling in the blanket, and set out to explore.
“I thought he was never going to come out,” Helena breathed to her mum, watching Caramel sniff the doors of the cupboards.
“I know. Why don’t you put some food down for him?”
Helena stood up. She tried to do it very carefully and slowly, but Caramel still flinched back against the cupboards when he saw her move. It made her want to cry. “It’s all right. I was just getting you some breakfast,” she murmured. “Lucy said she didn’t feed you this morning, just in case you were sick in your basket.”
She fetched one of the tins out of the cupboard and pulled up the ring on the lid. Then she laughed as Caramel hurried across the kitchen floor, his plastered leg knocking on the tiles. “You sound like a pirate cat, with a wooden leg,” she told him, as she put the bowl down.
“I’m so glad he’s eating,” her mum said, leaning against the counter to watch him.
“I know – I was worried he’d be too upset being in a new place,” Helena agreed. “But look at him, he’s wolfing that down.” She stood up, putting an arm round her mum. “Thanks for letting us have him.”
“You’re not disappointed?” Mum asked. “I mean – it’s not like having a normal cat. He’s not very friendly. And he can’t sleep on your bed or anything like that.”
Helena shrugged. “I know. But he will be able to one day. And I know he’s not that friendly yet, but think how special it will be when he is.”
She crouched down again to watch Caramel licking out his food bowl. He’d definitely got his appetite back, and he was making sure to get every last morsel of food. He stood up again, rather clumsily, and licked his whiskers.
Caramel uncurled himself from his basket as he heard footsteps coming towards the kitchen door. The girl. And probably breakfast. He hobbled to the door to meet her, rubbing hopefully round her ankles. She crouched down to stroke him – but he noticed she carefully shut the kitchen door first, so he couldn’t dart round it. She murmured to him as she scratched the satin-soft puffs of fur at the base of his ears, and he leaned against her lovingly.
Helena had spent a lot of the weekend sitting next to him on the floor,
letting him get used to her being around. She’d even done her homework sitting on the kitchen floor. When Caramel had tried to steal her pencil while she was doing long division, it had been one of the best moments of the weekend. It proved he was happy enough to play.
“I wish I didn’t have to go to school today…” Helena told him, as she scooped food into his bowl. “Urgh, this smells disgusting, Caramel. I don’t know how you can be so excited about it.” She giggled, watching him waltz around her feet, waiting for her to put the bowl down. He still didn’t like moving his broken leg much, so that leg stayed still, and the rest of him whirled around, a bit like a spinning top.
He started to gobble the food before she’d even put the bowl down, stretching up to get his mouth over the edge of the bowl, and patting at it with one golden paw.
“You’re definitely getting better,” Helena said, watching happily as he gulped the food down. “Are you making up for all those days at the vet’s when you didn’t eat properly? I do still wonder if you were a stray for a while before the accident. You’re ever so thin. And otherwise I’m sure your owners would have seen our posters if they lived anywhere near. We put them everywhere.”
Caramel was just finishing the food when Helena’s mum hurried into the kitchen. She was a bit late getting breakfast ready, and she was rushing. She banged the door open without thinking and Caramel shot into the corner, trembling and pressing himself against the side of the cupboard.
“Mum! You scared him!” Helena gasped.
