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It was too late. Sammy scratched at the rug again and then scooted behind the sofa, feeling upset.

“Emma!” Gran struggled up from her chair, and went out into the hallway, leaving Sammy lurking behind the sofa. He could smell the wet patch he’d left on the rug and it smelled wrong, not like his litter tray. He shouldn’t have done it.

“What’s up? Are you OK?” Mum called down from the landing, and then Sammy heard her hurrying downstairs.

“Yes, yes, I’m fine, don’t panic, love. But Sammy’s had an accident.”

“An accident?” Sammy heard Harper’s voice, sounding sharp and worried. “Is he hurt?”

“Not that sort of an accident. He’s fine, but he did a wee on the living-room rug.”

“Oh no…” Mum sighed. “That’s just what we need.” She came into the living room and crouched down by the rug. Sammy watched her miserably. He could tell that she was upset. “Will this go in the washing machine? I’m so sorry, Mum. Honestly, why on earth would he do that?”

“It isn’t his fault!” Harper marched across the room to stand next to Mum, and Sammy flinched at her cross voice. Had he made her sound like that? “I told you he wasn’t happy!”

[Êàðòèíêà: img_19]

“That doesn’t mean he ought to go and wee all over the place!” Mum snapped back. “And don’t use that rude tone, please.”

“But I did tell you!”

“Harper!”

Ava appeared in the doorway and peered in.“Mummy, why are you shouting? What did Harper do?”

“Mind your own business!” Harper growled.

“I think it’s my fault,” Gran put in, and Sammy felt his prickly fur settle a bit. Mum and Harper seemed to be caught by her soft voice too, and they spun round to look at her. “I emptied his litter tray,” Gran explained. “I thought I’d freshen it up for him, but then I had trouble opening a new bag of litter with this silly cast on. I was going to ask you or Harper to help me, but it just slipped my mind. I left it on the counter in the utility room. So the poor little love didn’t have anywhere to go.”

“Oh…” Mum said.

Harper glared up at her.“You see! It wasn’t Sammy’s fault! I told you it wasn’t! I said he was upset!”

“Harper, just go upstairs, please. I don’t have the time or the energy to deal with you being rude. Upstairs! Now!”

Harper ran out of the room and Sammy watched her go, his ears flattened miserably. He could hear her stomping up the stairs– his whiskers shook with every thump. Where was she going? Why was everyone so angry?

Mum bundled the rug up carefully and walked to the door, stopping to open the window on the way.“I don’t think it went through to the carpet. If we air the room out, it should be OK in a little while. I’ll go and put this in the wash and sort out that litter tray.”

“I’ll make us some tea,” Gran said, following her out, and Sammy was left alone in the living room, shivering and sad.

[Êàðòèíêà: img_20]

Sammy stayed behind the sofa, listening to the voices and the footsteps heading off towards the kitchen. He felt utterly miserable. He didn’t want to be here. He wanted to be back at the flat, his real home, where everything was just as it was supposed to be. If he went home, there would be his food bowl and his water bowl and his litter tray, all in the right places, he was sure. He was so confused and worried that he thought Harper would be at home too – ready to play with him and let him snuggle up next to her on the bed. She wouldn’t be grumpy and loud, like she was here.

He had to get back home. Somehow.

The smell of the spoiled rug was still in the room, but there was another smell too. A fresh, bright waft of air, mixed with cars and damp pavements– an outside smell. If he couldsmell outside, Sammy thought, his whiskers twitching excitedly, then maybe he couldget outside. He prowled across the room, following the smell, and then jumped up on to the back of the sofa to get a better view. Yes, there! The window was open– wide open!

Sammy hardly thought at all, he simply jumped, leaping to the windowsill and taking a deep sniff of outside. He was down in the flower bed below the window in seconds, loving the feel of the crumbly earth under his paws. He glanced back up at the window, wondering if anyone had noticed he was gone, but all was quiet. Sammy padded across the little front garden and slipped through the bars of the metal gate. Out on the pavement, he paused, sniffing thoughtfully. All he knew was that he wanted to go home– he hadn’t thought about how he was going to get there. But some instinct deep inside him was sure of the way to go. He knew where home was.

[Êàðòèíêà: img_21]