Then they showed me– again! – and the policeman who’d tried to hold me, and he was saying, ‘If anyone sees this cat or knows where it lives, please get in touch with us. There could be a connection.’
I knew who Rocky’s mother was. TammyLee. How could a cat give that information? But even if I’d been able to talk, I wouldn’t have told. It was a secret I shared only with TammyLee. We had been drawn to each other, I had felt her sadness, and she had called me ‘magic puss cat’. TammyLee and I were soulmates.
I had to find her. The time had come for me to grow up, stop playing, and work. I’d search to the ends of the earth for TammyLee.
But just as I was making this momentous decision, a man’s voice shouted, ‘THAT’S THE CAT!’ An agile young man, who’d spotted me watching myself on TV bounded to the shop doors and slammed them shut.
And I was a prisoner. Again.
Chapter Four
A HOT CAR
I searched the shop for an escape route, but there wasn’t one.
‘You stand there, Dave,’ the manager called to his mate.
Both wore smart white shirts, like tuxedo cats, black trousers and shiny shoes. Obviously, they weren’t used to cats, it made me nervous, but my angel’s voice rang in my aura, keeping me calm and still. Self-control was something I needed to work on. It was hard. My instinct was buzzing like a bee, telling me to run wild in the shop and not be caught.
‘Get it some milk from the back, Kyle,’ said Dave. ‘Shut it in the kitchen and we’ll call the cops. Bit of free publicity, eh?’
There was no way out. A quick look around the walls and ceiling told me that. So I had to be pragmatic and trust these two young men, Dave and Kyle. I could see that Kyle had a fiery intelligence as he warily approached me, so I was polite, standing up and putting my tail up. A silent meow and eye contact had him transfixed in seconds. Gingerly, he picked me up, and airlifted me into the kitchen, kicking the door shut.
‘Got him!’ he shouted. ‘You can open the shop now, Dave.’
Why did everyone think I was male?
Kyle stood with his back to the kitchen door, brushing my fluff from his black trousers and watching me lapping the milk he had given me. I’d hardly got room for it after my street-caf? breakfast. I was fine until the police turned up with a cat cage. Then I panicked in the small kitchen and squeezed myself behind the fridge.
‘Come on, darling. It’s all right. We’re only going to scan you and take you home. Come on, my lovely.’
I didn’t like it behind the fridge, so eventually, the policewoman’s honeyed tones coaxed me out and into the cage where she’d hidden some cat treats and, hey, a catnip mouse. She kept talking to me kindly.
Bad memories of being a tiny kitten in one of those cages haunted me, so I kept still and quiet as I was carried into a police car and driven away with the blue light flashing. I thought about the friends I had made. The couple who had fed me at the street caf?, the lady who’d let me sit in the pansy pot, the young man who’d risked his life to get me off the road. In my search for TammyLee, I planned to return to that shopping mall, and see my new friends. A cat who is alone and searching needs the support of friends.
It turned out that Ihad got a‘microchip’, and the police took me home to Gretel, even though I didn’t want to go.
Since the Christmas tree disaster, Gretel had changed her mind and decided she did want to keep me. She still shut me in the shed, usually with the window open to give me access to the garden. I used those times of freedom to roam the streets looking for TammyLee. I sat on the wall and waited for her to walk past, but she never did. I followed groups of children to school and sat watching the playground, but TammyLee was never there, and no one spoke her name. She seemed to have vanished.
Living with Gretel wasn’t working. I tried to love her, but it wasn’t easy. She loved me only when I was good and boring, not when I ran up the curtains or swung from the birch tree in the garden, or caught the orange fish from the lily pond. But she did teach me stuff that turned out to be useful, like going in the car. Instead of shutting me in the shed, she took to putting me in the car and taking me with her. At first I was petrified. But I soon got used to it. The car was warm and comfortable, and Gretel had set it up with a wire grill to stop me going into the front while she was driving, a cosy catigloo where I could hide, and even some toys for me to play with. She talked to me a lot while we were going along, and sang me songs and played the radio. The trips were interesting. I learned to recognise places. Corners and buildings and parks. Even the shopping mall and the river bridge whereTammyLee had stood with baby Rocky. I glimpsed the elder tree where I’d spent the night guarding him, and I sensed the wild country beyond the town, which I longed to explore.
So I became a car cat. I quite enjoyed it. Until one terrible day that changed my life.