I didn’t turn round to look at Graham. One glimpse of his frowning eyes had been enough. I tried to burrow inside Angie’s cardigan, while Graham stroked me with one finger.
‘He’s cute. Real chocolate box. Let me hold him.’
I wasn’t ready, but Angie carefully lowered me into Graham’s cupped hands. The frown disappeared as he felt my soft fur. I looked up into his eyes, and sensed a secret, something Angie didn’t know about. It was dormant, like a hedgehog in winter, curled up, prickly and asleep. I knew that when itawakened Angie would be like Leroy … broken-hearted. Obviously she needed a strong loving cat like me.
I survived the introduction, but what followed was something completely new to me.
‘Graham is a WONDERFUL singer,’ Angie said. ‘I hope you like music, Timba.’
‘Cats do,’ said Graham, and he handed me back to Angie. I stared through the window at an apple tree, and wanted to be out there on the grass catching insects and learning about the world.
‘How’s the new song progressing?’ Angie asked. She looked up at Graham adoringly.
‘Have a listen,’ he said, and went to the super shiny black piano. He wagged a finger at me. ‘Don’t you ever scratch my piano, Timba.’
Angie slid her bust across the mirror-bright piano top, and gazed raptly at Graham. He played some notes, and I found them startling. Then he squared his huge shoulders, breathed in a bucketful of air, and began to sing like a lion roaring. So, so loud. It terrified me. The sound came from deep in his being, and its power teased the sensitive hairs inside my ears. It was louder than a cat could stand. It was like something reborn from the history of the earth, the howling of wolves, the boom of thunder, the wild cry of a vulture.
I wriggled out of Angie’s grasp and leaped, spreadeagled, to the floor. My little legs couldn’t yet land from such a height and I fell on my face in a jumble of panicking paws. I gathered my scattered limbs and fled into the garden. Graham went on ‘singing’, but Angie laughed her bubbly laugh.
Quivering, I crouched under an umbrella of rhubarb leaves and tried to calm down.
‘That was so funny!’ I heard Angie say, but Graham wasn’t laughing and he had stopped ‘singing’.
‘Better get him in before he digs up my seed bed,’ he said, and I could tell from his voice that the frown was back.
‘Oh let him go. He’s a free spirit now,’ Angie said. ‘He’ll find his way around, and come back when he’s ready.’
A free spirit. A FREE spirit! My mood lifted. Was I free for the first time in my young life? Free to explore the green garden and the mysterious world beyond? I needed to get a sense of direction and make a map of what would become my territory, find out who lived there, who passed through, and who might be asleep under the ground or in the branches.
Excited, I sat under the rhubarb leaves, my nose twitching, my eyes noticing every tiny movement, even the flick of an insect’s antenna. I watched a ladybird working its way up a stalk, and I stared back at a hard-faced grasshopper who was regarding me with yellow eyes. The silvery purple seed heads of grasses arched out into the light where they danced and sparkled. I considered playing with them, but play was noton my agenda right now. This was serious stuff … adult-cat stuff.
A hole led under the garden fence, with a well-worn track, obviously used by creatures of the night I had yet to encounter. I sniffed at wisps of fur and droppings, not all of which I could recognise.
I waited, wanting to go through and see the world, but something was happening. The ground under my paws was shaking, and there was a rhythm to it, a one, two, three, four. Mesmerised, I stared through the hole and saw four huge hard round feet plod past on the other side, darkening the light that shone through. Then something snorted and a set of yellowy teeth tore at a tuft of grass, ripping it out from under the fence.
My fur bushed out with fright. My tail went stiff. I felt as big as two cats. Obviously this grass-grabbing giant had no idea that a black kitten sat just a whisker away from its nose.
I ventured through on tiptoe, my stiffened fur making it awkward for me to find room to move. Should I, who had slept between the paws of a lion, be so scared of this unknown creature? I made my neck longer and peeped out at the green field stretching away to wooded hills. The grass bobbed with yellow flowers, and to my right was a gleaming chestnut rump with a long tail swishing.
The horse must have sensed me, for it turned, snorting, its head low to the ground. I was the bravest kitten ever. Poised for a quick exit, I sat there and made eye contact. The liquid-brown benevolent eyes looked back, politely interested in me. The energy was female.
Start as you mean to go on, Timba, I thought, and I sent her a telepathic message.‘I’m the new cat in this household. I’m Angie’s cat.’ I felt proud of that status. Angie’s cat!