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“That’s probably not a bad thing. We want Sammy to think the box isn’t scary. If they all play around in it for a bit, he won’t mind going in, will he?”

“I guess not.” Emma watched as all three kittens explored their way around the carrier, nibbling at the treats and sniffing the soft cushion lining. Even Tiggy snapped up a treat that was just by the door.

“Emma, look,” Dad murmured, a few minutes later. “Sammy’s going in on his own. You can close the door in a second.”

Emma nodded, and as the white tip of Sammy’s striped tail cleared the door, she gently swung it shut and twisted the catches.

“Let’s go home,” she whispered.

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Sammy sat pressed against the back of the box. He had no idea what was happening– he’d never seen anywhere but the barn. Now he was shut into the small, shadowy carrier, and somehow it was moving. The smells were strange and sharp, and there was so much noise. The vibration of the car was completely new to Sammy and very frightening.

He could hear Emma’s voice, and her dad’s, and he knew that they were familiar, but it wasn’t making him feel much better.

“Do you think he’s all right? I thought he might meow, but he’s not even making any noise.”

“It’s a big shock for him, poor kitten. We’re nearly back, Emma.”

“We’re almost home,” Emma whispered through the holes in the carrier. “Not much longer.”

Sammy felt himself pressed against the side of the carrier as the car swung round a corner. He let out a little hiss of fright and tried to back further into the box– but there wasn’t anywhere to go. He scratched at the plastic, just a faint little movement of his paw. Nothing happened. Sammy closed his eyes and hoped his mother would come.

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“I don’t understand,” Emma whispered. “He was so friendly before. He let me pick him up. He even slept on my lap.”

“One of those websites did say to expect a kitten to take a couple of steps backwards when it’s moved, Ems,” Dad pointed out. “He’s only been here a few hours.”

“I didn’t think he’d be this jumpy.” Mum looked worriedly at Sammy, tense and nervous, his whiskers bristling.

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“He’s just a bit scared,” Dad said encouragingly.

“I suppose so…” Mum sighed.

Emma looked over at the big wire crate they’d borrowed from one of the neighbours, whose puppy didn’t need it any more. Sammy couldn’t be loose in the house just yet, as he’d probably run off and hide. But they could put the crate on the table in the corner of the kitchen, and he could see everything that was going on and get used to lots of people being around. The kitchen didn’t have any holes a kitten could get stuck in when they let him out to play.

It had seemed like the perfect plan for an almost-wild kitten. But Emma had imagined Sammy watching curiously as she ate her breakfast or did her homework. She’d thought of him purring to Dad as he made the dinner. She hadn’t seen a hissing, spitting, miserable little kitten hiding at the back of his crate. He’d even swiped at her with his claws when she put a bowl of fresh water in for him. He’d missed, but still. It was like Sammy was a different kitten.

“We need to give him time,” Dad said gently. “A day or so to calm down, before we start trying to handle him again.”

“Yes,” Emma sighed. “And I know I should have expected he wouldn’t be very happy…” But she hadn’t thought it would be like this. Mum looked so worried – and she’d really been coming round to the idea of a kitten! What if she changed her mind?

Dad patted Emma’s shoulder, and then gave Mum a hug. “Don’t look so tragic, you two! It’ll be OK! I’m just going to make some coffee. Do you want anything, Emma?”

Emma shook her head. Deep down, she realized sadly, she’d just thought that Sammy would see how nice their house was. He’d know how excited she was to have a kitten of her own – he’d understand, and he’d settle in straightaway.

“I was being stupid,” Emma muttered to herself. She crouched down in front of the crate, looking at Sammy sideways. He was still huddled up at the back, his ears flat against his little head. “I thought everything would be perfect all at once. But I’ll do anything to make you love us, Sammy. I just want you to be happy.”

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Emma held out her fingers to Sammy. They were covered in roast chicken dinner baby food, which apparently was the most popular flavour with kittens. It felt sticky and gloopy, but she didn’t mind. They’d given Sammy a whole twenty-four hours to calm down, and Emma just couldn’t wait any more. All the websites said that the way to make a half-wild kitten like you was to use food. They had to make Sammy see that food came from people, and if he wanted the food he had to put up with them, too.

“He’s noticed, Ems,” Dad breathed behind her. “He can smell it.”

It was true. Emma could see Sammy’s ears flickering, just a little. And his eyes were widening. “He must be able to smell it,” she murmured. “It smellsdisgusting.”

“Not to a cat,” Dad whispered back.