Felix the Fluffy Kitten and Other Kitten Tales

Snuggles had his own special bowl under the table, which was full of small pieces of meat. And Mark kept slipping him more bits too! Snuggles had never been so full in his life.

After lunch, Snuggles curled up on Mr Chapman’s lap and yawned. He was tired out from all their energetic games and from eating so much food.

“Look, Snuggles is going to sleep again,” laughed Mrs Bourne.

“Well, I think he deserves a nap this time,” Mr Chapman smiled.

“Yes, he’s been awake for ages,” agreed Mark.

“Don’t worry, Mr Chapman,” Snuggles mewed. “I’m not going to sleep for long. As soon as my tummy’s not so full, I’m going out with Mark to climb another tree!”

Star

the Snowy Kitten

Special thanks to Mary Hooper

To Maisie – a star in her own right

Chapter One

Michael knelt down beside the fire in his gran’s flat and ruffled Archie’s fur. The big tabby cat began to purr.

“I wish Archie could come and live with us,” Michael said.

“Don’t be silly,” Mrs Tappin, his mum, replied. “What would Gran do without him?”

Michael put his head down onto Archie’s tummy. “I’d love a kitten of my own even more.”

His mum and gran looked at each other and raised their eyebrows.

Michael closed his eyes and wished. I really hope I get a kitten for Christmas.

It was Christmas Eve and Michael and his mum had just popped in to see his gran. Archie, her cat, was dozing in front of the electric fire.

Archie was old now, with raggedy fur. Once he’d been lean and active, but now he was large and soft, his body sprawled out like a bag of knitting.

“I thought you wanted a mountain bike!” Michael’s gran said. Michael opened his eyes. “I’m saving for a mountain bike,” he replied. “I’ve been saving for ages. But I’d like a kitten for my Christmas present.”

“You got a kitten last Christmas,” his mum reminded him.

“But that wasn’t a real one,” Michael argued.

Because he’d kept on about kittens so much, one of Michael’s presents last year had been a toy kitten, with fluffy ginger fur and curly whiskers. He now sat on the shelf above Michael’s bed. Sometimes, when no one was looking, Michael gave him a cuddle.

“You’re too young to look after a real kitten yourself,” Mrs Tappin said.

“I still want one,” said Michael. “I’ll always want one.”

“They cost a lot of money, kittens do,” said his gran. “There’s food and vet’s bills.”

“And cat baskets and flea collars!” Mrs Tappin put in.

“But Archie doesn’t cost you much, does he, Gran?” Michael asked. He stroked the pale fur on Archie’s tummy, which was soft as feathers.

“Not now,” his gran replied. “He doesn’t need a lot of fuss and expense. All he needs now is a laze in front of the fire and a snooze.” She smiled. “Like me!”

Michael put his face close to Archie’s and touched the tip of the cat’s damp, pink nose with his own. Archie’s whiskers quivered and one ear twitched slightly. “Did he play a lot when he was younger? Did he do naughty things?” he asked.

“Oh, my goodness, yes,” said his gran. “He used to run up these curtains quicker than a rat up a drainpipe!”

“One Christmas he climbed the tree!” Michael’s mum put in. She nodded towards the funny old plastic Christmas tree that his gran put up every Christmas. It was a bit bent and a bit bare. But she said she liked it like that.

“That’s how it got bent,” said his gran.

Michael looked at Archie’s crumpled, sleeping face. “Oh, please let me have a kitten!”

Michael’s mum and gran looked at each other again.

“You’ll have enough money for your bike soon,” Mrs Tappin said. “Then you won’t want to stay in with a kitten.”

“I will,” said Michael. “I’ll have plenty of time left for a kitten.”

Michael’s gran walked over to the window. “It said on the news that it’s going to snow,” she said. “We might have a white Christmas this year!”

Michael looked up. “That would be great!” Then he sighed, and leant down to scratch the soft furry folds around Archie’s neck. “But not as great as having a kitten,” he said quietly to himself.

On the way home, it began, very gently, to snow. A few flakes circled the street lights and fluttered to rest on Michael’s anorak.

Chapter Two

On Christmas morning, Michael woke up at six o’clock. Christmas Day, he thought. Presents!

It was still dark but there was a strange glow coming through the curtains. Michael jumped out of bed to have a look. He pulled back the curtain. “Snow!” he breathed.

There was snow everywhere: on the road, in the gardens, along the roofs of the houses opposite.

Michael had never seen so much snow. “Oh, wow!” he said. Part of him wanted to dash out and build a snowman. But then . . . Christmas was waiting!

There, in the shadows by the bottom of his bed, Michael saw his stocking. It was bulging with presents! Full of excitement, Michael dragged it up and tipped everything out onto his bed.