Misty the Abandoned Kitten

Misty raced across the living room, making for her hiding place under the bookshelf. But she couldn’t get in! She wriggled frantically, but she’d grown – two weeks of proper food, and she was simply too big to fit into her special safe place. Why had Amy left her here? Was she going to come back? Shaking, she turned back to face Charlie, who was right on her tail. She hissed defiantly, and raked her little claws across his nose. But he was just so big! With one swipe of his long brown paw he sent her rolling over and over across the carpet, and then he jumped on her.

“Honestly! Mum, she’s fighting with Charlie already! Stop it! Bad cat!” Sarah tried to pull the two of them apart as they scratched and spat.

Mrs Jones heaved herself up from her chair, and tried to help. “Jet, Jet, come here. Oh, he’s hurting her.” She waved Charlie away with her walking stick, and leaned down to scoop up the little kitten. “Oh dear…” She sat down again, the kitten a ball of trembling black fur in her arms.

“Charlie hates not being able to use the cat flap, that’s why he’s being grumpy,” Sarah muttered, picking up Charlie, and holding him as he wriggled and spat at Jet.

“I know, but Jet might run off again, if we let her out. We need to keep her in for now, so she starts thinking of this as her home.”Mrs Jones stroked her gently.

Sarah sighed. “We’ll just have to keep them apart until they get used to each other.”

Mrs Jones looked worriedly down at the kitten, still shaking on her lap.

“Maybe I was wrong to say you’d get along with Charlie… I suppose I was just so pleased to have you back. Poor little Jet. Whatever are we going to do with you two?”

After school a few days later, Amy was up in the tree house lying with her head resting on the beanbag. There were little black hairs on it here and there. She looked up and saw that, sitting on the shelf, there was still one tin of cat food left, that she’d never remembered to bring into the house. It was all she had left of Misty, that and her collar, which was on her bedside table.

Mum kept mentioning the idea of another kitten, and Lily had bought her a cat magazine, so she could look at what sort of cat she might like. But Amy just couldn’t think about it yet. It would feel like betraying Misty – betraying her all over again, because Amy felt sure they had done the wrong thing by taking Misty home. She kept listening out for that telltale thump on the wooden boards that meant Misty was coming back to her, but it never came. She supposed Mrs Jones was keeping Misty shut up so she didn’t stray again.

It had been five days. Nearly a week. Perhaps after a week, they’d let Misty go out into the garden? Maybe she’d come walking along the fence again, and Amy could at least stroke her. That wouldn’t do any harm, would it? As long as Amy didn’t feed her, no one could say she was trying to tempt her back. Even just seeing her would be enough. All she wanted was to know that Misty was all right.

Mum was calling her for tea. Amy looked hopefully along the fence as she climbed down the ladder, but there was no Misty trotting along to see her.

She sat down at the kitchen table, picking at her pasta and staring at the newspaper ad that Mum had ringed. “Kittens, eight weeks old. Tabby and white.” Amy didn’t want a tabby and white cat. She wanted a black one. A very particular black one.

“Has Charlie finished his dinner, Sarah? Can we let Jet in?” Mrs Jones was peering round the kitchen door, with Jet in her arms.

Charlie looked up at her and hissed crossly. He hadn’t finished, and he didn’t want that kitten anywhere near his food.

“Oh, Charlie,” Sarah sighed. “They really aren’t getting on any better, are they?”

Mrs Jones shook her head. “I’m beginning to wonder if I did the right thing,” she admitted, her voice sad. “Maybe I should have let that little girl keep her. You could see she was heartbroken when she brought Jet back.”

“But you’d miss her!” Sarah protested.

“Of course I would! But I think she’d be well looked after. And we still have Charlie. He’s a lovely boy, he just doesn’t like sharing his house…”

Sarah nodded. “Oh, he’s finished.” She picked up Charlie, and took him over to the door to put him out.

Misty watched as Sarah began to open the door, and her whiskers trembled with sudden excitement. The garden! The fence! And along the fence, just waiting for her, was Amy’s garden, and Amy’s house, and Amy.

She wriggled frantically, and made the most enormous leap out of Mrs Jones’s arms. She shot out of the door before Sarah could even think to shut it.

She was going home.

Amy sighed, and stared down at her homework. She was supposed to be writing about her favourite place, but the only place she could think of was the tree house, with Misty curled up on the beanbag. A sudden scuffling at the kitchen window made her look up.

“Misty!” Dad exclaimed, looking up from the pan he was stirring on the hob.