by Frank Kusy
Ginger’s heart choked with emotion. Sparky was alive! He had a second chance to put things right! He would never look at a sausage again.
But then he had to.
‘Here, I got you a present, Ginger,’ said Lee, pulling something out of his jacket. ‘Do you want to know what it is?’
No, not really, thought Ginger, wiping a tear from his eye. I got all I want right here
‘It’s the best sausage in the world! Well, it’s got to be the one because it just won first prize at the local Sausage Club. And Munich’s got the most famous sausage club on the planet, so it can’t be wrong.’
‘Oh Ginger,’ murmured Sparky weakly, ‘I’m so happy for you. Now we can go home.’
‘We’re going home all right,’ said Ginger, taking the proffered sausage. ‘But not with this.’
The aroma of the freshest, crispiest rostbratwurst in the world hit him full force in the face as he bit into the skin. But then, instead of biting further and letting the heavenly juices inside drip into his salivating jaws, he carried it over to Scampi and dropped it at his feet.
‘There you go, mate,’ he said decisively. ‘This is yours. You earned it.’
‘Are you sure?’ replied the big black cat, unable to believe his luck. ‘That is one top sausage!’
‘Oh noooooo!’ squeaked over Sparky. ‘What are you going to tell Frou-Frou?’
‘I’m going to tell her the truth,’ said a humbled Ginger. ‘And if she don’t like it, well, I suppose she’ll have to lump it...’
*
All the way back to Surrey, Lee entertained the two cats with sausage talk. This did not sit well with Ginger, who had just given up his favourite snack forever, but Lee was on one of his famous rolls and he was forced to listen.
‘You wouldn’t believe how many sausage jokes they got in Munich,’ the lively Cockney told them. ‘This bloke Helmut what took me to the Sausage Club told me them all. That situation we had back there, for instance, was a “predicament”, weren’t it? Well, in local lingo they’d say, “It’s all about the sausage.” And you, Ginger, you always like a bit more grub on your plate, don’t you? Well, in Munich speak, you’d be called ‘Herr Extrawurst’ cos you’re always after the extra sausage! Ha, ha, who said that German lot don’t have a sense of humour!’
‘I’m goin’ into a coma,’ Ginger informed Sparky. ‘How about you?’
The smaller cat nodded, and in no time at all they were both asleep.
*
The villagers came upon them before dawn, bearing torches and shouting angry curses. ‘Who has defiled our temple?’ they cried. ‘Who has taken the holy relic of the Buddha?’
‘Be calm!’ ordered the monk, standing in their path. ‘What has been taken?’
‘Our sacred tabernacle! It contains a single hair of the Buddha, it protects our village!’
‘It was you, wasn’t it?’ hissed Bas, pointing an accusing paw at Ginger. ‘You really have gone too far this time!’
‘How was I supposed to know?’ protested the stubborn little criminal. ‘And tell ‘em, they really got to cut back on that worship thing. I don’t mind it, they give some of the best foot massages going, but you said that Buddha bloke doesn’t like being worshipped. He wants us all to be equal, you said, so what are they doing worshipping his follicles?’
‘Who cares?’ snapped Bas angrily. ‘What I want to know is why you stole it in the first place!’
Baby Ginger shrugged. ‘I just thought I’d give his Holiness a present, like, and if he didn’t want it, I could cash it in for some grub.’
‘I can’t tell them that!’ hissed Bas in alarm. ‘Look, give it to me, I’ll try and make them understand.’
But the villagers did not wish to understand. Before Bas had a chance to write an explanation, he was seized – together with the stolen relic which Ginger had slipped him – and dragged away for trial.
‘Actions have consequences!’ the monk berated the evil fur-ball sternly. ‘You have just caused your only friend in the world – the one cat who really cared about you – to be slain as a thief! You will pay, if not in this life then in all that follow!’
Ginger stared back at the monk blankly. He had learnt a few human words during his time in the village, and he guessed from the angry face and flapping gestures that Bas was in trouble, but what did “slain” mean? He had to find out...
*
The trial was a quick one. Bas’s few scribbled words, hurriedly etched on the temple floor, only made his case worse.
I was a god to millions! he wrote haughtily How dare you lay hands on me!
With cries of rage, the villagers set upon the arrogant black cat and laid him on an altar and brought forth an axe-man to cleave him in two.
‘Oh, please show clemency!’ shouted Dev, the monk. ‘This is not the Buddha Way!’
But his pleas were ignored, and the axe swung high over the executioner’s head.
Baby Ginger, arriving on the scene, was appalled.
‘Blimey,’ he said to himself. ‘Those oomans look well upset! I’m getting out of here!’
Just then, however, he had a surprising change of heart.
‘Ooh, this is odd,’ he thought, puzzled. ‘I was just going to leg it, but something’s changed. What’s going on? I don’t feel selfish and cowardly no more. I feel all giving and like taking on the world. Did someone sprinkle me with happy dust?’
Ginger twitched in his sleep. His mouth smiled knowingly.
Without thinking, the tiny ex-god cat puffed up to three times his normal size and flew in the face of the executioner.
‘Phroawwwrr!’ he screamed frighteningly. ‘You leave my mate alone!!’
Then, while the villagers milled about in panic, he grabbed the holy hair of the Buddha from the stolen tabernacle...and swallowed it.
‘So it was you, you demon cat!’ shouted the village headman as Ginger smacked his lips defiantly. ‘Was it not enough that you took all our food and locked up our children? Is your greed so mighty that you had to consume our one token of the Buddha also?’
The monk burst into laughter. ‘Ha, ha, ha!’ he crowed. ‘Do you not know a miracle when you see one? He eats not from hunger, but to save his friend! And in saving his friend, he has saved you all from taking an innocent life. Rejoice! Rejoice! The Buddha’s cat is amongst us!’
Bas’s eyes flitted nervously round the congregation. He still could not believe he was in one piece.
‘You just saved my life, you brave little fatling,’ he whispered in gratitude. ‘I hope they don’t take yours!’
But his fears were groundless, the monk’s words had hit home. One by one, the villagers sank to their knees and paid their god-cat homage.
‘He will now go to see the Enlightened One,’ Dev told them soothingly. ‘And he will bring you a hair from his head for each of your households, if that is your wish. Go forth now, and be at peace.’
And the people went forth, and were at peace.
*
The two cats woke together and looked at each other happily.
‘So it was you all along, that snooty Bas. I knew it!’ chuckled Ginger. ‘But I thought you was a young cat, with eight more lives ahead of you.’
‘I am a young cat,’ replied Sparky with some degree of certainty. ‘I think I was supposed to die in that dream. And I was probably too frightened by that life to have any more!’
‘Well, you still got seven left, by my reckoning. And then you can go to that Heaven place in the sky – where the clouds are made of cheese and the rivers flow with cream – along with all those uvver good cats.’
‘You too, Ginger. You’re the Chosen One. You should be first past the pearly cat flap!’
Ginger shifted uncomfortably.
‘I don’t know about that, mate. I still ain’t met that Buddha bloke – in my dream, like – and I still got one more fence to jump back home.’
‘Oh, what’s that, then?’
‘It’s posh and i
t’s pampered, and it goes by the name of the Frou-Frou...’
Chapter 14
Ginger attains Pussyhood
Joe was going mad.
He hadn’t seen his beloved Sparky in three days, and in all that time he hadn’t slept, eaten or even washed. Madge had tried to tempt him out of his chanting room (where he taken permanent residence) with a sausage, but even this forbidden fruit had failed to move him.
‘I know I told you to lose weight,’ she chided him. ‘But this is going too far! You’re starting to smell!’
‘I don’t care,’ he croaked rebelliously. ‘I’m not coming out until I get my Sparky back!’
Just then, as if on cue, there was the sound of a van drawing up outside, and then of two doors being opened and slammed shut, and then – could this really be happening? – of a familiar desperate squeaking approaching fast.
‘Sparky!’ cried Joe and Madge in unison, and ran out to greet him.
Sparky was beside himself with joy. He was so glad to be home again that he ran up to the top of the stairs and then roly-poly’d all the way down them, prrrrping loudly as he went. Then he leapt into Joe’s arms and dribbled excitedly into the ageing hippie’s beard.
‘Golly, Sparky, it’s good to have you back!’ said Joe, freeing one hand to wipe away a tear. ‘But why did you run away? Was it that nasty carpet machine?’
‘I don’t think the carpet machine had anything to do with it,’ snorted Madge. ‘That naughty Ginger took you somewhere for his own selfish purposes, didn’t he? Where is that furry old Fagin anyway?’
The ‘furry old Fagin’ duly appeared at their side, looking sheepish. He knew he had done wrong, he knew he had caused these oomans a lot of worry, and he hung his head in shame.
It was lucky for him that Sparky remembered his recent act of sacrifice. The one where Ginger had suddenly, out of the blue, chosen friendship over sausages.
With one bound, the small black and white cat leapt down to the ground again and, gripping a pen with his practised pussy teeth, scribbled a quick message on a kitchen window.
Don’t blame Ginger he wrote In my dreams he was the worst cat ever but now he is the BEST – please don’t punish him!
‘Oh, and why not?’ said Madge, making a mental note to clean the windows more often. ‘He’s brought you all the way home, after doing who knows what with you, and you want us to forgive him?’
‘No, he’s right,’ said Joe quietly. ‘I dropped off earlier and had a dream too. and I’m no longer a sad, old monk sitting under a tree. Ginger has changed all that. Somehow, he’s got me back on track again, and it has something to do with sausages.’
‘Sausages?’
‘Yes, I think he’s given them up. Can’t you see how much weight he’s lost?’
‘I can’t see any difference,’ sniffed Madge dismissively. ‘He looks the same fat, old blob we had before.’
‘No, he just made it through the cat flap, didn’t he? Maybe it’s time we took that Buddha sticker off his head.’
But when Joe reached down to remove it, Ginger slowly backed away.
‘It’s my badge of honour, innit?’ he whispered over to Sparky. ‘Tell that ooman I’m keepin’ it. Tell him I want to be a Buddhist.’
Sparky stared at him goggle-eyed.
‘You want to be a Buddhist?’
‘Yeah, why not. I’m heavy enough. It’s time I got ‘lightened.’
‘You mean en-lightened, don’t you? And are you sure?’
‘Corse I am,’ said Ginger. ‘I’m the Chosen One, ain’t I? Well, I better start actin’ like it!’
When Sparky passed on the message to his humans, first Madge and then Joe broke into hysterical laughter.
‘Well, I’ve heard it all now,’ chortled Joe. ‘Ginger? A Buddhist? That settles it. If he can do his pussy revolution and give up sausages, so can I. I’m tired of wearing your stretch trousers, Madge. It’s time I slimmed back into my own!’
Madge opened her mouth to say something, but Joe was on the move.
‘Come on, you two,’ he said, addressing the cats. ‘It’s time for Star Trek! I think it’s the episode where McCoy tells Kirk: “I’m a doctor, Jim, not a coal miner!” We don’t want to miss that!’
But as the sleep-lagged hippy slumped down on his futon, Sparky and Ginger stretched out next to him, all thoughts of intergalactic entertainment were quickly forgotten. Loud snores filled the TV room as all three weary souls drifted out of this world and into the realm of dreams.
*
It was late and dark when the monk and his two feline companions came into Kushinagara.
‘I hope we’re not too late!’ he addressed them. ‘Ten days have passed and the Enlightened One may no longer be with us.’
‘He better be,’ grumbled baby Ginger. ‘I haven’t walked this far in my life!’
‘You’ve done very well, little one,’ Bas said soothingly. ‘I may even give you a foot massage.’
But when they approached the hut in which the All-Wise One was lying, there were cries of woe and lamentation.
‘The Buddha! The Buddha is no longer with us!’ wept the company of attending monks. ‘He has eaten of some poisoned truffles, and he breathes no more!’
Baby Ginger hesitated. The old part of him – the old greedy, selfish part – wanted to snatch a dung beetle off the ground, pop it into the Buddha’s mouth, and screech: ‘I ain’t come all this way for you to snuff it! Wakey, wakey, Holy Human – I brought you a snackerel!’
Then the newly enlightened part of him remembered something the monk had said, about always thinking eight times before uttering a word. Ginger didn’t need to think twice – he knew what he had to do.
He jumped lightly to the Buddha’s side and, bowing his little orange head in homage, began licking one of The Compassionate One’s long pierced earlobes.
‘Sorry to make you wait, mate,’ he mumbled shyly. ‘Won’t you come back and say hello?’
There was silence, and then a low sigh, and then – miracle of miracles – the Buddha returned to life!
‘I was ascending the blissful clouds to Heaven,’ murmured the holy sage, slowly opening his eyes. ‘Who is it that has summoned me back to the world of suffering?’
Then he gazed down and saw the small creature nestled in the crook of his arm, and his pale face lit up with such a look of joy that all present were illuminated by it.
‘Aaah, can it be? Can it really be...my cat?’
‘It is so,’ confirmed the monk, coming to his side. ‘Though how this came to be, how this wild spirit came suddenly to be tamed, is beyond my comprehension.’
‘Ah, friend Dev,’ chuckled the Buddha softly. ‘Look at you! Where has your belly gone? Some would say this is a miracle too! But as I have taught, even the worst sinner has the enlightened state within him. That is why I always kept a cat beside me – it was my final challenge. Now I can die happy, for the most disobedient creature on earth has found salvation.’
And with that, as all present bowed their heads in reverence, the Compassionate One passed His hand in blessing over little Ginger, and departed this world forever.
*
Ginger was in the back garden, considering this very strange dream, when he got a shock.
‘BOO!’ said Frou-Frou, jumping out of a nearby bush. ‘Did you miss me?’
‘Did I miss you?’ echoed Ginger, clutching his chest. ‘Well, my heart just missed a few beats. Do you have to do that?’
Frou-Frou ran up to Ginger, stopped dead in front of him, stared right through him with her huge saucer eyes and then took off again in a flurry of fluff.
‘It’s a Persian thing,’ she said innocently. ‘Why? Don’t you like surprises?
‘I’m too old for surprises,’ replied Ginger. ‘I only got one life left, and I’d like it to last a bit longer!’
‘Well, I promised you a very special surprise, didn’t I?’ said the precious pure-breed, winking at him. ‘Have you got something for me?�
��
‘Wot? You mean your sossidge?’
‘What else would I mean?’
‘Well, I ain’t got it.’
“Well, I ain’t got it,” Frou-Frou mimicked him. ‘What have you got, then?’
Ginger squirmed unhappily, and stared off into space.
‘I ain’t got nuffink, missus. My paws are empty.’
Frou-Frou considered the sad, forlorn creature before her, and decided to stop playing with him. He appeared to have changed.
‘Well, they’re not empty anymore,’ she said softly and placed her two paws in his.
Ginger was stunned. He had not for one moment expected this.
‘It’s alright, handsome,’ murmured Frou-Frou, ‘I bumped into your little pal Sparky earlier, and he told me everything. Who’s the big butch hero, then? I’m so puurrroud of you!’
Ginger regarded his pretty white guest with fresh interest. Before, she had just irritated him with all her la-de-da graces and her blah-blah female twaddle. Now, all of a sudden, he was starting to experience that same gluey feeling of fondness he’d first felt for Sparky.
‘You sayin’ I’m forgiven, then?’ he croaked gratefully.
‘What for? I never wanted a sausage anyway. I only wanted you to mend your ways. And here you are, no longer Mister Grumpy, but my very own Prince Charming.’
‘Well, you’re not so bad yourself,’ harrumphed Ginger. ‘For a female, that is. How come you ain’t got no boyfriend?’
‘Oh, I do have my admirers, believe me. But most local toms have me down as an airhead, a good-time girl. Only yesterday, a pack of them started shouting “Blondie!” and “No Brainer!” And what does “Space Cadet” mean? I think they’re very rude!’
‘Do you want me to have a word with ‘em? I’m not allowed to kill ‘em anymore – now that I’m a peace lovin’ Buddhist an’ all – but I can still sit on ‘em until they cry “Mercy”!’
‘Oh would you?’ said Frou-Frou, fluttering her long, white eyelashes at him. ‘Now I feel all safe and warm!’
Ginger touched his battle-scarred nose to her pretty, pert pink one.
‘Don’t you worry about a fing, missus,’ he growled protectively. ‘You and me – and my little mate Sparky, of course – is takin’ on the world!’
