Ginger the Stray Kitten

Rosie stared up at Gran in surprise. She couldn’t imagine the farm without Mrs Bowen. “Oh… So who’s going to live at the farm now?” she asked. “Is Mrs Bowen selling it?” Rosie looked back at the farm gate. There was no For Sale sign up.

“No…” Gran hesitated. “Well, yes, I suppose she is. The land has been sold to a developer – they’re going to knock down the farm buildings and put up some houses instead. Mrs Bowen signed the contract with them a little while ago, and she’s been gradually packing her things up and moving them over to her son’s house. She’s leaving the farm this week.”

Rosie gasped. It was all happening so quickly. Then a horrible thought struck her. “But Gran, what’s going to happen to the cats? They won’t stay around when the farm’s a building site! Where will they go?”

“It’s all right, Rosie,” Gran said soothingly, putting an arm round her shoulders. “Mrs Bowen’s asked the people from the Animal Rescue Centre in Wilmerton to rehome the cats. They’re going to come and collect them tomorrow, she told me. It’ll be much better for the cats, you know. They’ll check them over, and find proper homes for the kittens. As for the older cats, they’ll try and find someone with farm buildings or stables who’ll have them as outdoor cats, like they are here.”

Rosie nodded. “But I won’t see them any more,” she said sadly, her voice quivering. “Not even the little ginger kitten, and he was starting to like me, Gran, he really was. I … I even thought of trying to take him home, if I could persuade Mum…”

“I’m not surprised he liked you, considering you were feeding him all your sandwiches.” Gran smiled at her. “Mrs Bowen does have windows and I’m not blind, Rosie!”

“Oh.” Rosie looked up at Gran, her cheeks a little pink. “You won’t tell Mum, will you?” she asked.

“Well, no. But I think you’d have been better off eating the sandwiches yourself and buying some cat treats with your pocket money,” Gran suggested. “I shouldn’t think your mother would like to know she was making sandwiches for a tribe of wild cats.”

“It won’t matter now anyway,” Rosie said tearfully. “I’ll never see any of them again!”

When Mum picked Rosie up from Gran’s that night, she was surprised by the quiet, sad little figure who trailed down the stairs.

“What’s up, Rosie? Did you have a bad day at school?” she asked.

Rosie shook her head.

“You go and get your things, Rosie,” Gran suggested, and by the time Rosie had packed up her homework and her pencil case, Gran had obviously told Mum what was going on, because she didn’t ask again.

Rosie stared miserably out of the car window as they drove back to their house, which was a bit further out of the village than Gran’s. The rescue centre people would be thinking about new homes for the kittens already, she supposed. All those lucky people, who’d be getting gorgeous kittens. Rosie wondered who would get to adopt the ginger kitten. Maybe there’d be a girl her age. But she was sure no one would ever love him as much as she did. She was so jealous.

Suddenly, Rosie sat up straight, staring out of the front window in excitement. Why shouldn’t that girl be her? The kitten needed a new home, and he already liked her. She could name him Ginger! It was perfect!

Except that she would have to persuade her mum, of course.

“What is it, Rosie?” her mum asked. “A rabbit didn’t run in front of the car, did it? I didn’t feel anything.”

“What? No! Mum, can we have a kitten?” Rosie gabbled. “Please? All Mrs Bowen’s cats need new homes, and we’d be a perfect new home, wouldn’t we?”

Mum didn’t say anything for a minute, and Rosie stared at her hopefully. At least she hadn’t said no at once.

“I don’t know, Rosie,” Mum murmured at last. “It would be nice to have a pet – but those kittens are wild. They aren’t used to people. I don’t know if we’d be the right home. Someone who knows more about cats would be better, I think.”

“We could learn about cats!” Rosie pointed out eagerly. “And those kittens really, really need homes, Mum. Did Gran tell you the rescue centre people are coming to get the cats tomorrow? They’ll hate being in a rescue centre, in cages. There’s one of the kittens, Mum, he’s really sweet, and he’s already almost tame. He lets me stroke him and he even eats out of my hand. He’d be a brilliant pet!”

“Well, I’ll think about it. Maybe we could go and see them, see how tame they really are. I’m not sure I want a wild kitten climbing my curtains…”

Rosie beamed. She was sure that Ginger was hers already. He was so cute Mum just wouldn’t be able to resist him!

Back at the farm, the ginger kitten curled up next to his mother and brother and sisters, in a pile of hay in the old barn. It made a cosy nest, and he licked his paw sleepily. He was thinking about that girl, and wondering if she would come back tomorrow. She might bring more food, and maybe she would stroke his fur again. It was nice when she did that, a bit like his mother licking his ears.