The dog was a hefty Labrador, her coat glistening black. I hissed and spat at her, but she took no notice. I could only watch in helpless rage as she picked up my beautiful tabby-and-white sister and bounded off with her dangling from her mouth. My brother and I huddled together, trembling as the kitten’s piteous cries got fainter and fainter.
Those cries haunted me, for we’d heard our mum-cat crying when we were snatched away from her. Loud and echoing, as if Jessica wanted to fill the skies with the injustice of having her mother-love cut down so ruthlessly. The man, Joe, who bundled us into the cat cage and dumped us, had once held me in his hands and gently stroked me with a big rough finger. He wasn’t cruel, just desperate and drunk.
My dad, Solomon, had explained to me how humans live such complicated lives. They don’t forgive each other like cats do, so their mistakes grow into huge destructive energies which roll on across the years, hurting everyone, even tiny kittens who are full of love and joy.
I kissed my brother on his nose, and licked his sleek head to reassure him. Our sister had gone, but we had each other. I told him we’d find a way to survive, but he didn’t believe me. We were still tiny. Our claws were delicate, our fur so fine that it hardly kept us warm, our tails were optimistic little triangles, our legs wobbly and soft, inadequate for the hardship we now faced.
Pressed together we listened in horror to the sound of the dog returning, her rough paws scratching the tarmac. She hadn’t brought our sister back. Obviously she had killed her with one crunch of those eager teeth. Before we had a chance to escape, the dog came crashing into our hiding place.
My paws turned into steel, and my mouth into the mouth of a dragon. Spitting and screaming I launched myself at the dog’s face. With my claws embedded in her soft, bristly muzzle, I kicked furiously with my back legs. The dog just shoved me aside as if I was nothing. She picked up my beloved brother by the scruff, and the last I saw of him was his wild and desperate eyes looking into mine as he was carried off down the lane.
His cries faded away, and the silence was a new kind of silence. Prickly, like a thorn bush. Entangled in its pain, I felt the loneliness curl around me. To face so much so young seemed overpowering. Grief. Abandonment. Hunger. Danger.
Small as I was, I didn’t intend to let that dog take me. The trot-trot of her paws as she came back down the lane sent me crawling deeper into the hedge, my mind working frantically to find a solution. A hole! That’s what I needed. A hole so tight that her head wouldn’t fit in there.
Under the hedge the ground was crisp with old leaves and twigs, clumps of tangled plants and sprays of tough grass, impossible for an inexperienced kitten to negotiate. I stumbled along, banging my nose until it stung. Instinct told me hiding involved keeping quiet, but my distress was so intense that I couldn’t help meowing.
From under a fern, I listened, and the dog stopped too, listening for me, wondering where I was. I knew she would track me, and I heard the snuff-snuffle of her nose, a whine of excitement as she picked up my scent. I crawled on, in and out of knobbly roots and branches, my heart beating crazily. There was a splintering sound of twigs breaking and the dog pushed into the hedge, shaking it right to the top, sending sparrows fleeing in a burr of wings, and the blackbird shrieking his alarm call.
I felt her determination. She was going to have me.
Well, I could fight! I was the son of Solomon and Jessica, two amazing cats. Surely their legacy of wisdom and courage would help me now.
In a hollow under the hedge was a pile of rubble. Broken glass, blue plastic and jagged lumps of concrete. I clambered over it, cutting my paw on the glass. Sticking out of the rubble was a pipe. Old and dirty, but perfect! I crept inside, down, down into the dark, just in time. The dog’s hot breath gusted after me. She barked, and the sound jolted the pipe and vibrated through my fur. Trembling and weak with exhaustion, I struggled to turn round in the narrow space. It hurt, but I managed it, and crouched there, glaring out at her.
She stuck her nose into the pipe, and I saw a twitch of whiskers and a gleam of red in her brown eyes. But I was safe. She couldn’t reach me. Frustrated, she began to dig furiously, thumping with heavy paws. Idiot, I thought. Wasting energy tearing up the earth. From that moment I despised the entire dog population of the Planet. Wait until I’m big, I thought. No dog is ever going to frighten me again, and I visualised the magnificent fluffy tomcat I would become. Golden-eyed and glossy, and gorgeous.
Inspired, I dared to advance up the pipe and aimed a mini-slash at her nose where I knew it would hurt. A blood-curdling yowl emerged from my mouth and my fur sprang to attention, making me look twice as big and spiky.