The catwho had more or less resigned himself to dying alone, frozen stiff, starved, brought down by treachery and despairsuddenly felt something tiny and warm beside him
Hed been chucked out. Unceremoniously dumped, really. After ten years loyal service with the same family.
It was all thanks to the classic: Doctors orders. Apparently, the newborn might have an allergy to cat fur. That blurry might was the full stop at the end of his comfortable life.
Predictably, nobody had been queuing up to adopt a mature, ten-year-old tabby. So, the man of the house, showing all the emotional depth of a Victorian lamppost, simply carried him outnot just to the front garden, but round to the next street, and right into a snowdrift. Sub-zero, English-winter sort of cold. Knowing full well the cat would never find the way back. And with another cold snap on the cards, the forecast wasnt exactly looking up.
Calculating. Clinical. Coldhearted.
And that would have been that, if fate hadnt stuck its oar in. The cat, ready to give up, suddenly felt something alive huddling against him. Something warm.
He shifted, creaking with cold. Turned his headand froze.
Cuddled together in front of him were two little balls of fluff with wide, hopeful saucer-eyes. They stared at him with trust and expectation.
Oh for goodness sake… he muttered internally. Cant a bloke even die in peace? What have I done to deserve this?
Kittens. Chucked out as well. Two of them in the same icy, cut-throat weather. As for the reasonwho knew. But one thing was certain: if he, the old chap, packed it in now, those two had no chance at all. Theyd freeze curled up next to his soon-to-be-ex-cat-ness.
With a groan, he got to work on his numb paws. Nudged the kittens underneath himself, pulled them close, and started washing them. They burrowed into him as if he was the very embodiment of safety.
Well, brilliant, he sighed inwardly. Definitely landed myself in it now.”
His own stomach twisted pangs of hunger, so the kittens must have been in open revolt. He dragged himself up, hobbling, sniffing out the binswhere the air still hung faintly with traces of supper.
Eventually he found a couple of frozen fish finger ends and a scrap or two of chicken. He dragged it back, let the kittens pounce first, and finished whatever they left. Once replete, the kittens curled up under his tummy and fell asleep, purring like miniature tractors.
Sleep snatched him away before he knew it.
He was woken by a high-pitched voice:
Mum! Dad! Come and looktheres a mummy cat with babies!
He nearly snorted. Of coursemummy cat
But the little girl wasnt of the ignore it and walk on persuasion.
Ten minutes later she was back. In one hand, a carrier bag full of savoury-smelling food, in the other, a rather battered but blissfully warm blanket. The trio were now cocooned, not on freezing ground, but nestled on something soft.
Another hour and she was back againthis time with her dad, who lugged a makeshift little shelter cobbled together from bits of old wardrobes. The front had a big note, Tellytubby-red letters: PLEASE DONT DISTURB. WE ARE FEEDING THEM. FLAT 22.
That evening, the whole street seemed to rally round. Tin after tin of Felix arrived, leftovers, even little pots of baby food. Suddenly, the entire block was awash with concern and custard.
The next day, Dad and Daughter paid another visit. The kittens, blissfully full, didnt even make it halfway to Old Smoky before falling asleep headfirst in the blanket.
That evening, as the family came back round, the kittens scampered to the girl, mewing with delight.
Smoky watched from his hut, doing his best to look aloof. Once bitten twice shy and all thathed been burned before and wasnt about to chance it again.
Mum, the girl said, you havent given the mummy her dinner yet. Shes hungry too…
Dont fuss, darling, sighed Mum. Shes an adult, shell cope.
Hang on a mo, Dad frowned. Thats not a she, it’s a he. Its a tom, not a queen.
Mum scowled. What are you talking about? Hes fussing over the kittens, cleaning themall very motherly…
Dad grinned. Go on, look closer. Hes not exactly a textbook mum, is he?
Mum crouched next to Smoky and gently patted his side. He bristled, glaring reproachfully.
My word she whispered. He is a tom
Well done, detective, Smoky thought drily.
Do you meanthrough all that cold, all that miseryhe looked after those kittens himself? Kept them warm? Fed them?
He didnt budge. What use were their words? His job was to get the kittens sorted, then quietly make his exit. No drama, no curtain call.
But fate, it seems, was still writing the script.
Mum didnt leave. She started crying.
Mummy, whispered the girl, cradling a kitten. Look at him. Hes not a stray. Someone mustve only just turfed him out
Dad put a hand on his wifes shoulder. Someone decided he was surplus to requirements. And instead of rolling over and giving up, he became their mum. Put off the end just long enough to give them a shot.
Oh, you just want me to cry, dont you? Mum sniffed.
Only stating the facts, Dad said, matter-of-fact.
Instead of turning away, Mum walked over, gently picked Smoky up and hugged him tight.
He stiffened, debating the escape route but instead, out popped a strangled miaow and thenas if by accidenta deep, honest purr. He had no idea why.
He expected: feed me, wash me, shove me off outside again. But
He ended up in the bath. With shampoo. If ever there was a cat prepared to launch a formal complaint, it was Smokybut the girl and her mum cooed and soothed him into silence.
After thatwarm fluffy towel. Softer than any cardboard box. Comfy sofa. Aromatic food fit for a Lord. And the kittens, as usual, dozed off under his chin.
A real hero, whispered Mum, stroking his back. I dont know many people whod do what youve done
Flattery gets you nowhere, yawned Smoky. Maybe Ill give you a little scratch later, just to stay in character.
But, instead of claws, out poured a purr. The girl giggled.
Alright then, he considered. Maybe no scratches. These people are growing on me.
He tucked the kittens in, started washing them. Mum started sniffling again.
Women, he pondered. First they scrub you within an inch of your life, then they cry. Must be some sort of penance.
He drifted off, kittens snug under his chin, unaware that Mum had originally vetoed all stray animal nonsense in the housethats why Dad and Daughter had built a little shelter.
Now, the three of themSmoky and his rescued pairslept in one warm, fluffy heap.
The family stood quietly, watching the old tomcat, whod turned out to be a better human than most people theyd met.
We didnt just walk past, did we? the girl asked softly.
And Mum and Dad simply nodded, silent but smiling.
Perhaps, just maybe, it was the best thing theyd done in a long, long while.
