‘I’ll be back to see you, my luvvy. We’ll have lots of cuddles,’ she said, but I jumped down and followed her to the gate, meowing as she gently pushed me back and closed it tightly.
Horrified, I ran round and round the pen, calling and meowing. Surely, I wasn’t a prisoner! I was Tallulah. I had a right to enjoy the world, to charge across lawns with my tail streaming, to scale trees and hang from branches, to dive under bushes and pounce on people’s feet. These humans who looked after me so well had taken from me what I most treasured – my freedom!
And how would I ever find TammyLee?
I sat by the gate, my nose to the crack where it would open, and then I waited, planning the speed of my escape, how fast I would dart out when it was opened. I looked out at the garden beyond, and the road winding away beside the river, and planned my escape route. I’d follow the river back into town, back to the bridge where TammyLee had left Rocky. She’d go back there, eventually, I was sure.
When Penny came back with a dish of food for me, I did slip past her ankles and out of the gate, only to find she had cleverly shut the first gate and I was still trapped. Distraught, I gazed up at Penny with my golden eyes and meowed piteously.
‘Aw, you poor darling.’ She picked me up but I wriggled out of her arms and ran to the gate. Penny came after me, stroking and talking to me in a lovely voice, letting me smell the delicious meat she had brought me. But I didn’t want anything except my freedom. The need for it burned insideme, and I tried to convey it to Penny. She understood me, but she didn’t do what I wanted. She didn’t let me out.
Night came, and I was still distraught. I ran round and round. I climbed the high wire fence in every place, searching, hoping for a hole to escape through. But it was rigid. I meowed and zigzagged around until my paws were sore and so was my throat. By dawn, I was exhausted and crept into the warm bed, curled up and slept until mid-morning.
As soon as I heard Penny’s voice, I tumbled out, in such a hurry to get to her and beg her to let me go. Please, please let me go.
Penny was in the next-door pen, cuddling and fussing a rather portly black tomcat who had watched me through the wire with a disapproving stare. He looked contented, and so did the ginger tomcat on the other side who was tucking into a juicy looking breakfast. I sniffed at my uneaten supper, which had gone dry and had flies buzzing round it. I ate a little bit, then jumped up to the higher perch to feel the sun on my fur and see the mountains.
It seemed a good time to wash.
Washing is a sort of ritual that stabilises cats. For me, it had become a time to think. I wanted Penny to explain to me why I was shut in, and for how long. So I sent her the thought, and when she did come into my pen, she sat down with me again. I stretched myself over her heart and reached up to pat her face with a long paw. I knew she loved cats, so why did she shut me in?
She looked at me thoughtfully, and I sent my question again with all the power of my golden eyes and another pat from my newly washed paw.
‘I know,’ she said. ‘It’s not much fun being shut in, is it, Tallulah?’
I encouraged her with a purr-meow and a kiss on the nose.
‘You’re a very beautiful and intelligent cat,’ she said, talking to my soul. ‘And someone will come and choose you – a good person who knows how to take care of a cat. We make sure of that. We don’t let cats go to bad homes.’ Her hands were stroking my neck and rubbing behind my ears and under my chin. ‘It might be today,’ she said. ‘Or it might be tomorrow. Or it might be a long time, many dark nights. These two have been here for months, haven’t you, my luvvies?’ She pointed at the black cat and the ginger one, who were both washing and listening. ‘But you’ve got to choose too, Tallulah. Don’t go with someone you don’t like.’
I stared at her, getting the firm tone, and the pictures she was sending me from her mind. Nice people coming to choose a cat. And I remembered. Gretel had chosen me. I’d been too small to resist. But this time it would be different, I was determined. Even if the people were nice, I wouldn’t go with them if it felt wrong.
‘I’ll put you in the paper this week,’ said Penny, and she took a photo of me with a silver camera, and showed it to me on a screen. I looked like the teeniest fairy of a cat in there, but I purred and touched noses with the image, and Penny laughed so loudly that the wire fences rattled and shook.
After that conversation, I settled down and accepted that I wouldn’t be in the pen for long. I made the best use of the space, playing a lot and climbing and keeping my claws sharp. Two people came to see me the very next day, and I remembered Penny’s advice. It was a hard thing for me to do but I turned my back on them and went all huffy, climbing up to the top perch and sitting there, washing. It worked.