She put me down on the doorstep and ran, her hair flying, round to the back of the house. I heard the horses making a weird noise in welcome, and a thundering of hooves, lots of squealing and stamping around. Angie was talking to them and laughing. She seemed like a flame, bringing light and warmth to every living being.
I stayed on the sunny doorstep until she returned, red-faced and happy, and before long she had changed into her swirling skirt and posh shoes. She picked me up, kissed me and popped me into a round basket with a sumptuous red cushion in it.
‘You sleep, little cat. I’ll be back later … and I shall tell Leroy how well you’re doing. Mmwah!’
I hadn’t planned to sleep, and the mention of Leroy bothered me. Supposing he came to get me like he’d threatened! The compelling thought drove me into the garden again to check out some hiding places. If Leroy did come, I’d be ready.
The fear got hold of me. Without Angie there the place was new and full of dangers. Graham might decide to‘sing’. The horses might stampede into the garden. Leroy might turn up. Then there were two buzzards wheeling overhead, crying their wild cry. What if the buzzards got me!
I slunk across the lawn and under the summerhouse, a dusty, brick-strewn hollow, dimly lit by a rim of sunlight filtering through the foliage. A good hiding place. Or was it? I spied a gigantic hole in the earth. I sniffed it, and, predictably, my fur started to ruff out with alarm. Hiding there would be bad news. Some kind of creature was asleep deep inside that dark hole. I retreated with the utmost stealth, and belted back across the lawn to the doorstep. Phew!
I didn’t want to be a kitten any more. I wanted to be a cat. Eat, I thought, and returned to my dish where Angie had left me some tuna. I stuffed and stuffed, and staggered back to the doorstep just in time to see a scaly pair of legs descending from the sky and two vast blue-grey wings. Shockingly huge. Surely birds couldn’t be that big?
My instinct took over and locked me motionless except for my fur bushing out … again. There was safety in stillness. Even a twitch of my ear or a blink of my eye would tell that dragon of a bird that I was alive and edible. How I wished I’d stayed on the lovely red cushion. I wanted Angie. I wanted Vati. I even wanted Leroy!
The enormous bird didn’t look at me but unfurled its snake-like neck and stood on one leg at the edge of the pond, its eyes scrutinising the water while I imagined exactly what that long yellow beak could do to a kitten.
At the same time, inside the house, Graham started to‘sing’. ‘Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, AH.’
It was all too much for me.
This time instinct fired me towards the apple tree. In a terrible panic I fell over myself getting to it. My claws were brilliant. They hooked into the rough bark of the tree trunk. Thrilled to find myself climbing, I pushed with my back legs, on, up the tree into a flat place between two branches. I paused there, my high-speed heartbeat way out of control, my tail spiky, my eyes staring at the lofty blue-grey bird. He moved. His wings spread wide and he took off, effortlessly, and flew away towards the woods.
Bursting with pride at my achievement, I decided to make the most of it and stay in the apple tree. To find myself so good at climbing was awesome. I looked up into the tree’s mossy tangle of branches against the sky. Why not go higher? I thought. The big bird had gone, the garden was quiet, and the sound of Graham’s ‘singing’ was inside the house and muffled.
Higher up, the branches were thinner and there were multiple choices for me. Which way to go? Inexperienced, I didn’t choose carefully, and, in my rush to get to the sky, I soon found the climbing difficult. The spurs of leaves and clusters of green apples got in my way, and now I was clambering precariously along narrow twigs. My balance wasn’t mature enough to cope.
Climbing up to the sky didn’t seem such a good idea. The blue had gone, and heavy clouds steamed over the sun. A warning breeze chilled my fur and made the branch sway alarmingly. I looked down at the lawn, and it was too far to fall. Then I discovered that turning round was impossible.
It didn’t help to have a feisty little wren hopping expertly around in the tree. It kept its stubby tail up and its beak open, squawking out dreadful curses and threats. The question of how to get down became paramount. Even if I did manage a three-point turn, I’d still have to get down the steep trunk.
Jessica would have shown me how, or Vati and I might have figured it out together. Loneliness came over me like one of those clouds overhead. Extra-large raindrops began to fall, harder and faster, splashing into my fur. Soon I could feel water chilling my skin.
I was in serious trouble.