Misty the Abandoned Kitten

Amy watched the shadowy little figure disappear. “I wonder who she belongs to?” she whispered to herself. “And what her name is. If I could get close enough, I could look on her collar, maybe.” Then she frowned. “No, I don’t think she had one. I think I’d call her Misty.” She put her chin in her hands, and imagined a little black kitten curled up on the end of her bed. “I can’t wait to tell Lily about her!”

Chapter Three

“Have you seen her again?” Lily asked eagerly, and Amy smiled.

“Yesterday, just as I was going out into the garden. She was sitting on the back fence, right under the tree house. But when I got closer she ran off.”

“You’ve seen her a few times now. Maybe she lives in one of the houses close by,” Lily suggested.

Amy frowned. “She doesn’t have a collar, though. I just wonder – perhaps she’s a stray? She never comes very close – I think she’s quite shy of people. A stray kitten could be like that, couldn’t it?”

Lily nodded thoughtfully.

“And she looks ever so thin,” Amy added. “I’m worried she isn’t getting enough food.”

“Poor little thing!” Lily cried. “Kittens do need to eat a lot. Or she might just be naturally skinny. Kittens can be. Oh, I wish I could see her.”

“If we’re lucky she might turn up when you come to tea on Friday,” Amy said. Lily was a cat expert and might be able to think of a way she could help the kitten.

By now the little kitten was exploring the gardens all along the road. She had discovered that she loved being outside – there were always new and exciting things to play with. Sometimes people left food out, too. Even if it was only stale bread meant for the birds, it was better than nothing, as Charlie was still stealing most of her meals. She’d got very good at scrambling up bird tables. She wasn’t as good at chasing the birds themselves – somehow they always seemed to work out that she was coming. But she enjoyed trying.

Being outside was definitely better than being at her new house, anyway. Even when Charlie left her alone, which wasn’t often, Mrs Jones’s two grandchildren were almost as bad. They liked to fuss over her and stroke her, which the kitten didn’t mind too much. And sometimes it was quite fun to chase the string that they dangled in front of her nose. But they also kept trying to pick her up, which she hated, especially as they just grabbed her and hauled her along with her legs dangling, even though Mrs Jones had explained how to hold her properly. The kitten tried to stay out of their way.

“Puss! Puss, puss, puss! Where are you, Jet?” Millie called.

The kitten slipped quickly under the kitchen table, but it was an obvious hiding place, and the little girl crawled underneath to be with her. Jet’s tail started to twitch nervously.

Millie was carrying a handful of dolls’ clothes, but she dropped them on the floor and seized the kitten round her middle.

Jet yowled, wriggling desperately to get away, but the little girl held her firmly. Millie then grabbed a doll’s jacket and started trying to place one of her paws into it. “You’re going to look so pretty! Charlie’s too big for all my dolls’ clothes, but you’re just the right size.”

The kitten scrabbled frantically and raked her tiny claws across Millie’s hand. The little girl dropped Jet in surprise, and the kitten shot out from under the table, and cowered in the corner of the kitchen, hissing furiously.

Millie howled, staring at the red scratch across the back of her hand.

“What happened?” Sarah ran into the kitchen, and Millie scrambled out from under the table. “Jet hurt me!” she wailed, holding out her hand.

“Jet did that?” Sarah turned to stare at the kitten. “Bad cat! You mustn’t scratch people!” She sounded really cross, and the kitten slunk guiltily out of the kitchen to find Mrs Jones, knowing that she would understand.

Mrs Jones was in her favourite armchair as usual. But Charlie was there too. Curled up cosily on Mrs Jones’s lap, looking as though he belonged there. Just where the kitten was meant to be.

Mrs Jones was dozing, and she didn’t see Jet, staring wide-eyed from the corner of the room. The kitten watched for only a second, then she ran back the way she’d come, past Millie still sobbing in the kitchen, and straight out of the cat flap.

Charlie wasn’t only taking her food now – he was taking Mrs Jones too.

Amy was up in the tree house, sitting by the door and looking out over the garden. She was drawing in the beautiful sketchbook that one of her aunts had given her for her birthday, with a set of new pencils too. She was trying to remember exactly what that gorgeous little kitten had looked like. She wished she had seen her closer up – she still wasn’t sure exactly what colour her eyes were. She hesitated between the two greens in her new pencil box. Probably the lighter one. Smiling to herself, she finished colouring the eyes, and wrote Misty in the bottom corner of the page.