Frederick Fred Thompson slipped into the flat and was instantly on edge it was oddly quiet. Are they asleep? he thought, until his palelooking wife Margaret and daughter Poppy emerged from the kitchen, looking as if theyd just seen a ghost. In Poppys arms perched a tiny orange kitten, its whiskers trembling.
It was dark, but the kitten was hardly scared of the gloom any more; it had grown used to it. Besides, it knew mum would be back soon, feeding it, licking it from the tip of its tail to its stubby little nose, then settling beside it, humming a lullaby until the fear melted away.
Only this time Mum was unusually late something that didnt suit her at all. Even though the cellar was perpetually halflit, the kitten had learned to tell time by the faint hum of the pipe overhead. Normally, when Mum left, it would curl up, tuck its nose under its paw and drift off to sleep. When she returned, she was already there, or would show up before the kitten even felt hungry.
Today, however, two hours had ticked by since the kitten woke, and Mum was nowhere to be seen. Forgotten? Abandoned? thoughts like that never crossed a kittens mind. Something must have happened If it was true, the poor thing guessed its days were numbered.
The cellar was constantly damp; a water pipe had burst the day the kitten was born, leaving a fresh puddle beneath it. Food, on the other hand, was scarce. There was never any grub in the sealed room, so Mum had to go hunting every day.
The kitten hopped out of its warm cardboard box, padded to the wall and stared up at the sole little hole that let in a sliver of daylight. The opening was tiny, and because thick brambles grew around it outside, the light was practically nonexistent just a oppressive gloom that made the kitten feel uneasy.
It tried to leap toward the hole, hoping Mum would appear, but it was still too small. Ten futile attempts later, it landed on all fours, just as the cellar door creaked open. The timing was so sudden the kitten didnt even manage to duck; it froze, hoping to stay unseen. Of course, it was spotted.
First shuffled in a stooped old lady, a longtime resident of the block, followed by two burly men squeezing through the narrow doorway.
Look at these lazybones! the old lady barked. I told you the cellar was a breeding ground for kittens. Grab them all and throw them out!
One of the council workers tried to protest, Hes alone down here.
The other laughed, One now, twenty in six months. What are you here for? A debate? Just catch him and bin him!
The men scoured the cellar, taking two smoking breaks, until the old lady finally thrust herself into the fray and the kitten was captured.
You cant do anything without Mrs. Violet St. James! she scolded the men, her voice as sharp as a cats claw. She tossed the kitten out, slammed the cellar door shut, and sealed the little hole with cement so tight a fly couldnt slip through.
Out, out, out! she shrieked at the trembling creature. Dont come back!
The kitten bolted to a safe distance, looking back at the only home itd ever known with tearfilled eyes. Now it had nowhere to go, and Mum was nowhere either. What to do? Where to turn?
Its heavy thoughts drifted away as it gazed wideeyed at a world itd never imagined. Until now, its universe was a dank cellar with four corners, a leaky pipe, and that one tiny crack. Suddenly, there was an entire other side bright, grassy, full of people, birds, and oddlooking beasts with round legs and glowing eyes.
Cats that resembled Mum roamed here and there, but Mum herself was nowhere to be found. The kitten let out a soft meow, then a louder one, hoping somehow Mum might hear it. No luck. The cats turned, gave sympathetic looks, and shuffled off.
Still here? I said scram! shouted Mrs. St. James, whod never liked cats no one ever knew why, perhaps she just enjoyed taking her frustration out on them.
With nothing left but to run, the kitten bolted, not knowing where to go, only that it must get away. The cellars exit was sealed, so it sprinted as fast as its tiny legs could carry it. Even at a modest pace, the old lady with her cane could not catch up.
Trees, hedges, bustling streets, cars, and buildings whizzed past. The kittens head spun, forcing it to halt. Adults smiled, children pointed, and a mum asked her son, Ready to give up your tablet for a real snack? If so, well take the kitten home!
The boy sniffed, snorted, and kept munching on his chocolate ice lolly. The kitten, now famished, followed a tantalising smell to a fivestar restaurant called Grandmas Kitchen. The aromas of roasted meat, boiled fish, and oysters wafted out, making its stomach rumble.
At the black door leading straight to the kitchen, the kitten slipped through a narrow gap and found a pile of cardboard boxes, one of which became a temporary hideout. Just then, two men entered the owner, Mr. Arthur Blake, and his assistant, Mr. Graham.
Frederick, your cooking is divine, but youve got to tidy this kitchen, Arthur said, eyeing the chaos.
Arthur, Im short on time. I cant manage without a helper, Frederick replied.
The search is on! Weve placed ads everywhere. In the meantime, get this place shipshape before an inspection. Ten minutes, then Ill be back. And remember, never argue with me, or youll end up like the bloke who thought he could outcook me! Arthur warned, tapping his cane.
Frederick tossed the last box onto the paved area beside the bins, and heard a faint meow. Did I step on something? he wondered, picking up the box. Inside, a tiny head peered out.
Hope its not a rat, he muttered, having dreaded rodents since childhood.
When he saw the kitten, he was genuinely surprised. Where did you come from? he asked, halfexpecting an answer.
The kitten could only meow, but Frederick guessed it might be hungry. Though hed never owned a pet he even refused his daughters pleas for a dog or a cat he felt no shame in feeding a starving animal, especially if it was his own cooking.
He shredded the kittens box, placed the creature on the counter, and shared a portion of his signature braised turkey with a special sauce, diced into bitesize pieces. The tiny feline devoured it gleefully.
Just then, Arthur returned, peering over Fredericks shoulder. Well done, Frederick! Whats that box? Forgetting something? He gave the box a hard kick, sending it tumbling. A sharp Meowuh! erupted.
Whats this? A cat in my kitchen? Im firing you on the spot! This is a serious breach of hygiene! Arthur roared.
Frederick knew he couldnt leave the kitten starving, yet the rules were clear. Take it to the dump, now! the owner demanded.
Reluctantly, Frederick carried the box to the rubbish chute, checked that the kitten was unharmed, set the box aside, and rushed back to the kitchen to finish the nights orders. His mind kept drifting back to the little creature.
Maybe slip it into the staff room and forget about it till tomorrow? he mused, but the fear of being caught made him stay honest. The job paid well; he didnt want to lose everything in a flash.
Soon, a delivery man in ragged clothes looted the bins, tossing leftover scraps into a nearby box the very box that happened to contain the kitten. He didnt notice, simply shoving the find back into the bin outside the cellars entrance.
Later, the same ragged fellow sat on the cardboard, reaching for his prize, when Mrs. St. James snapped her cane at him. You wretched thing! I told you not to come back! she shrieked, the cane swinging up and down as she shouted at the top of her lungs.
The ragged man protested, Even the rubbish is stolen from me! while the old lady hauled the box toward the dump, where she intended to leave it for good. Halfway, the box slipped, and she froze, halfbent, a perfect picture of the classic boomerang effect.
At that moment, a little girl named Annie, sent by her mum to take out the trash, emerged from the stairwell. The old lady grabbed her wrist, pleading, Sweetheart, could you take that cardboard box with you? Im heading to the dump anyway.
Annie knew the cranky Mrs. St. James from the courtyard, though nobody liked her, but she agreed to avoid a lecture. As she tossed the bin, she heard a faint scratching from inside the box. She lifted the lid andmiracle of miraclesfound the kitten. Her eyes lit up; shed always dreamed of a pet.
She cradled the fluffball and hopped home. At the doorstep, her mother raised an eyebrow, Darling, what will your father say? Annie, already smitten, declared shed never let anyone hurt the kitten again.
Meanwhile, Fred had finished his shift, changed into his street clothes, and headed out as dusk settled. The silhouettes of cardboard boxes against the trash bins were still visible. He rummaged through them, hoping to find the kitten, but each box was empty. He doublechecked, still nothing. Ran off or hidden? he muttered, flashing his phones torch and calling out, Kisskisskiss!
Two resident cats, patrolling the bins, answered the call, but the kitten was nowhere. Dejected, Fred trudged home, guilt gnawing at him. What a chap I am, he thought, my daughters been asking for a cat for three years, the wifes okay with it, and Ive sent it out the back door
His conscience chafed, and for the first time he felt the urge to tip a dram of whiskythough hed never touched alcohol, his parents had taught him to stay dry.
He texted his wife, Lara: Ill be home soon; we need to have a serious chat.
The next morning, Fred entered the flat and was again met with an eerie silence. Are they still asleep? he wondered, until Margaret and Poppy floated out of the kitchen, pale as ghosts, a kitten perched on Poppys lap.
It was the same kitten hed fed braised turkey, the same one hed searched for in the dump, the one that had stolen a piece of his heart. Fred rushed to his daughter, scooped the kitten into his arms, and tears streamed down his face.
Margaret and Poppy stared, mouths agape, not expecting the tearful confession after Freds ominous text.
Lara, Margaret began cautiously, you wanted to say something
No, I I just, Fred stammered, Im going to make us a proper dinner for the little one.
And so the Thompson household welcomed their papal kitten, who now had a roof, a warm lap, and plenty of love and, of course, unlimited turkey.
