Frederick slipped into his flat and immediately felt something was off it was dead quiet. Are they napping? he muttered. From the kitchen emerged his palelooking wife and their daughter, their faces the sort you get when youve just seen a ghost. In little Elsie’s arms perched a tiny kitten, looking as startled as a mouse at a wedding.
It was dim, but the kitten was hardly frightened any more; hed grown used to the gloom. He knew his mum would be back soon, feed him, lick him from whisker to tail, then settle beside him, humming a lullaby that would chase every shadow away.
Only this time Mum was unusually late. It wasnt like her at all.
Even though the cellar was perpetually halflit, the kitten had learned to tell the time by the drip of a leaky pipe. Normally, when Mum left, hed curl up, tuck his nose under a paw and drift off to dreamland. Hed wake to find her back already, or shed appear before his stomach even growled.
Today, though, something had gone awry. Two hours had slipped by since he woke, and Mum was nowhere to be seen.
Forgot? Dumped me? The kitten never entertained such thoughts. Probably somethings happened If his hunch was right, it could only mean one thing: his days were numbered.
The cellar was a soggy haven the water main had burst the day he was born, leaving a permanent puddle beneath the pipe. Food, however, was a different story. There was none to be found, so Mum had to venture out each day on a sort of hunt.
The kitten hopped from his warm cardboard box, padded to the wall, and stared up at the lone hole that let a sliver of daylight into the cellar. The opening was tiny, and with brambles crowding the outside, it was practically a blackout. He tucked his hind legs under him and tried to leap toward the light, but he was still too small. Ten attempts later, he was still on the floor.
Just as he landed on his paws after a failed jump, the cellar door creaked open with an alarming screech. He froze, hoping to stay unseen, but the old lady who lived in the block was the first to step in, followed by two burly men squeezing through the narrow doorway.
Ah, look at these loiterers! the old lady shrieked. I told you a cat gave birth down here. Grab em and get them out!
One cat alone? a managers assistant protested.
Now its one, but in six months therell be a dozen. What, youre here to argue? Grab em! the men roared, scattering around the cellar, pausing twice for a smoke. Only when the old lady waded in did they finally snag the kitten.
Nothing gets done without Beatrice Hargreaves! she barked, turning out to be the mens mother as well as the buildings longstanding resident.
They flung the kitten out, locked the cellar door, and sealed the little hole shut so tight that not even a fly could slip through.
Off with you! the old lady yelled, waving a cane. Leave this place and never come back!
The kitten darted away, eyes wide with sorrow, glancing back at the home where hed been born. Now he had nowhere to go and his mother was nowhere to be found.
What to do? Where to go? Those heavy thoughts drifted aside as he stared, eyes bulging, at the world beyond the cellars four cramped corners. Suddenly, a brighter realm beckoned sunlight, grass, people strolling, birds singing, and oddlooking creatures with round legs and glowing eyes.
He saw cats that resembled his mum, but could not spot her among them. He mewed, first a whisper, then louder, hoping someone would hear.
No one did. The cats turned, gave him a pitying glance, and went on about their business.
Are you still here? I told you to scram! shouted Beatrice, who had never liked cats no one quite knew why, perhaps she just disliked anything that purred.
The kitten bolted, not knowing where to run, just away from the angry old woman and the sealed cellar. The world whizzed past: trees, hedges, cars, bustling streets. His head spun, and he had to stop.
Adults watched, smiling. Children pointed and begged their parents to take him home, but their pleas fell on deaf ears. Only one mother asked her son, Are you ready to ditch the tablet for a real adventure? If so, well bring him home!
Nope, the boy snorted, licking a chocolate ice lolly.
The kitten, now famished, sniffed the air and followed a mouthwatering scent to a fivestar establishment called Grandmas Kitchen. The smell of roast, boiled fish, and mussels made his stomach rumble.
He slipped through a narrow gap in the heavy metal door, landing among a tower of cardboard boxes. One box became his temporary refuge. Just then, two men entered.
Frederick, youre cooking like a god, but the kitchen looks like a bomb site, the owner complained, polishing a silver spoon.
Arthur, Im swamped. I need help, but the adverts havent yielded anyone yet, Frederick replied.
Until we get a hand, tidy up. Ten minutes, then Ill inspect. And remember, never argue with me, or youll hear about the bloke who did. He waved a cane threateningly.
Frederick tossed the last box onto the paved area beside the bins, heard a faint meow, and peered into the discarded cardboard. Inside was the kitten, eyes bright as coins.
What on earth? Frederick muttered. Hope its not a rat Ive hated those since I was a lad. He scooped the tiny creature up.
There you are! Where did you pop up? he asked, halfexpecting an answer.
The kitten merely mewed, and Frederick guessed the furry visitor might be hungry. Though hed never been a petperson his wife, Laura, had long opposed keeping animals despite their daughters pleas for a dog or a cat he felt a pang of sympathy.
He whisked the kitten back to the kitchen and served a generous portion of shredded turkey in his signature sauce. The kitten devoured it with gusto, purring in delight.
Just then, the owner returned, eyes narrowed. Whats that box? Did you forget something?
He kicked the box, sending the kitten tumbling. Cat on my kitchen floor? Ill sack you on the spot! This is a health hazard!
Frederick tried to protect the little creature, but the owner demanded the box be taken to the rubbish. Reluctantly, Frederick carried it to the bins, pausing to check that the kitten was still safe, then set the box aside and rushed back to the stove, where other hungry patrons awaited their stew.
He thought, Maybe I could hide the kitten in the backroom until nightfall? Yet the bald chef might discover it, and the kitten could escape into sight. He decided against the risk.
Later, a scruffy delivery boy rummaged through the bins, tossing leftovers into the nearby box the very box that housed the kitten unaware of its passenger. He then carried the box back to the same cellar from which the kitten had been evicted earlier.
The old lady, spotting the boy, brandished her cane and roared, You naughty devil! I told you never to show up here again! She swung wildly, shouting at the top of her lungs.
The boy muttered, Even a bite to eat is a nightmare with these lot, as he fled, the box slipping from his grasp and clattering onto the pavement. He fell into a halfcrouched pose, the box landing beside him a perfect illustration of a boomerangs return.
At that moment, little Poppy, sent by her mum to take out the rubbish, emerged from the stairwell. The old lady grabbed her wrist and pleaded, Darling, could you fetch that cardboard box for me?
Poppy knew the cantankerous Beatrice but didnt like her, yet she obliged to avoid a lecture. She tossed the rubbish bag into the bin, reached for the box, and heard a scratching from inside.
She opened it to find the kitten, eyes shining with hope. Oh my, youre a dream come true! she squealed, cradling him and hopping home. Her mother met her at the door, sighing, What will dad say? Poppy, already smitten, ignored the warning and vowed never to let anyone harm her new furry friend.
Frederick finished his shift, changed out of his work clothes, and headed out as dusk settled. He sprinted to the row of cardboard boxes near the bins, rummaging through each one.
Disappointment hit him hard the kitten was nowhere to be found. He doublechecked, even flashing his phones torch and calling out, Kisskisskiss! Two resident street cats darted over, but the kitten was missing.
Dejected, Frederick trudged home, guilt gnawing at him. What a bloke I am, he thought, my daughters been looking for that kitten for three years, my wifes fine with it, and Ive sent it out into the cold. His conscience ate at him, and for a moment he even considered a drink but hed never touched alcohol, thanks to his parents strict upbringing. He settled for a stiff glass of water.
He texted Laura, Im home soon. We need to talk seriously. The words felt heavy, but a little relief came with the honesty.
When he finally entered the flat, the silence was again unsettling. Are they asleep? he wondered, as his wife and daughter emerged from the kitchen, pale as if theyd just seen a spectre. In little Elsie’s arms perched the very kitten hed fed turkey to, the same little furball hed chased through the cellar and the bins.
Frederick rushed to his daughter, cradling the kitten, tears streaming down his cheeks. Laura and Elsie stared, mouths agape, not expecting the drama their husband had hinted at in his text.
Frederick, you wanted to say something Laura began cautiously.
No, nothing just Ive got a kitten now, he managed, wobbling toward the kitchen to prepare a celebratory dinner.
And so, the Rumble family welcomed their new kitten, who was at once a son, a daughters playmate, and a beloved pet. He finally had a roof, food, and a whole lot of love.
