And one of them was Ellie! Yes! Ellie! I heard her calling as the crowd forced their way past. ‘Please!’ she kept saying. ‘Please take away with you one of these photos of my precious, lovely lost pet so you can call me if you find him.’
I didn’t even crane my neck to check it was my picture that was being handed out, and not a photo of some brand-new fluff-ball kitten she’d been given called Sugar-Pie or Pansy-Wansy. I simply trusted her and saw my chance, threw back my head and yowled even louder.
‘YEE-OWW, YEE-OWW, YEE-OWW, YEE-OWW, YEE-OWW. Yowwwwwl, yoWWWWL.’
Ellie knows that song! She’s heard it often enough on moonlit nights. In any case, she recognized my voice. Everyone else was running the other way, but suddenly Ellie was pushing against them, scattering flyers all over as she ran.
Straight towards me.
‘Tuffy! Oh, Tuffy! I’ve found you at last! Thank heavens!’
I purred at her like mad.
She reached for the latch to my cage, but before she could open it, Arif stopped sucking his hand and brought it down on hers. ‘Stop! Don’t let this cat out. He’s vicious.’
Ellie stared. ‘He is not vicious! I should know. He’s mine.’
Arif shook his head. ‘No, no. You’re wrong. Lots of cats look alike, and this one can’t be yours. He is called Pusskins and he’s on the way to have his shots before he goes to Spain.’
Ellie laid her hand on the cage. ‘No, he is not,’ she said. ‘He is called Tuffy and he’s had his shots already. And he belongs to me and he’s so clever he was singing his favourite song just so I’d recognize him.’
‘He’s not yours!’
‘Yes, he is. And I can prove it.’
Quick as a flash, she’d lifted the latch and swung the cage door open.
I’m not a cuddler, on the whole. But I wasn’t going to put my pride before a rescue. I didn’t muck about. I simply jumped straight into Ellie’s arms and purred and purred and rubbed and rubbed, and did all those soppy and embarrassing things some hungry cats do when they don’t have the guts to give you the cold blank stare that means, ‘Get on with it, then. Feed me.’
‘See?’ Ellie said. ‘Tuffy’s not vicious at all. He is a wonderful, gentle, clever pet. And you can’t have him.’
Arif was going to argue. But just at that moment Ellie’s mother panted up behind and said, ‘Yes! That is definitely our cat. And he was stolen over a week ago. We put up photos all over town. Ask anyone you like.’
Ellie squeezed me even tighter. ‘See?’ she told Arif. Then she slid off my fancy jewelled collar and dumped it on the table. ‘But you can keep the collar and the cage.’
I owed her one, and so for once I didn’t struggle. I just gave Arif the look that says, ‘And you and your friend the vet can both go and boil your heads!’
Then, after Ms Whippy admitted down the phone that she had practically kidnapped me only a few days before, Arif did give up arguing, and I let Ellie and her mum take turns in carrying me home in triumph.
20 My Precious, Wonderful, Amazing Tuffy!
The moment we got near to our front door, I wriggled out of Ellie’s arms. (No point in letting the child get into bad habits.)
Then, acting super-cool, I strolled back into the house. As I passed underneath a brand-new spray of glossy, waving leaves, I nodded companionably. ‘Looking good, Pot Plant!’
I waved at Frying Pan and Piano – ‘Hi, fellas! I’m back!’ – and went upstairs, planning to say hello to Alarm Clock and Bedroom Slippers. Ellie was chasing after me, carrying my old collar. ‘Oh, Tuffy! I’m so glad you’re back!’ She slid it over my head. It was still damp from all her weeping, but I thought I could be gracious about it. After all, the child had saved me from worse.
I let her give me the most gentle squeeze. She buried her face in my fur. ‘Oh, Tuffy!’ she said. ‘My precious, wonderful, amazing Tuffy! The Tuffy I love so much and always have and always will, for ever and ever and ever! Thank heavens you’re home and safe!’
I let her squeeze me one more time before I shook her off and went downstairs to check on Frying Pan. (After all, Ellie and her mother were both outside when that rude vet was going on about how fat I was. And I was peckish.)
21 ‘You Promised You’d Never Forget Me.’
Tiger and Snowball and Bella were having a laugh playing see-saw on the wobbly drain cover a few houses down.
‘Hi,’ I said, stepping onto Bella’s side to even the game up a bit. ‘It’s me. I’m back.’
‘Who’s this?’ asked Tiger.
‘Do we know him?’ Bella asked.
‘No one I know,’ said Snowball.
‘Oh, come on, guys!’ I told them. ‘You promised you’d never forget me!’
So they knocked off the teasing and we mucked about. I told them all about my great adventures and my narrow escape. They helped me get the collar off.
‘Look at the state of it,’ said Tiger. ‘Sodden! Mind you, I’m not surprised. Ellie has spent an awful lot of time these last few days howling her head off.’
‘That’s right,’ said Snowball. ‘Her mother kept on trying to cheer her up by offering her a fluff-ball kitten just like Tinkerbell.’
Tiger finished the story. ‘And all she did was howl louder.’
Good stuff to hear.
We played quoits with the collar for half an hour or so while it was drying. Then the gang helped me put it on again. I think I’m safer wearing it, just for a while, until the hue and cry has all died down and Ms Whippy’s found herself another mouser and flown off to Spain.
Yes. Safer here till then.
And nicer too.
At my real home. With Ellie.
The Wild Cats’ Chorus
YEE-OWW, YEE-OWW, YEE-OWW,
YEE-OWW, YEE-OWW
Yowwwwwl, yoWWWWL,
Yowwwwl, yowwwl
YEE-OWW, YEE-OWW, YEE-OWW,
(piano – softly)
YEE-OWW, YEE-OWW, YEE-OWW,
YEE-OWW, YEE-OWW
Yowwwwwl, yoWWWWL,
Yowwwwl, yowwwl
YEE-OWW, YEE-OWW, YEE-OWW.
(fortissimo – very loud)
YEE-OWW, YEE-OWW, YEE-OWW,
YEE-OWW, YEE-OWW
Yowwwwwl, yoWWWWL,
Yowwwwl, yowwwl
YEE-OWW, YEE-OWW, YEE-OWW.
© Tuffy " Gang
About the Author
Anne Fine has been an acknowledged top author in the children’s book world since her first book was published in the mid 1970s, and has now written more than forty books and won virtually every major award going, including the Carnegie Medal (more than once), the Whitbread Children’s Award, the Guardian Children’s Fiction Award, the Smarties Prize and others. Anne was appointed the Children’s Laureate from 2001-2003.
Corgi Yearling
THE MORE THE MERRIER
EATING THINGS ON STICKS
TROUBLE IN TOADPOOL
CHARM SCHOOL
BAD DREAMS
FROZEN BILLY
Corgi
ON THE SUMMERHOUSE STEPS
THE GRANNY PROJECT
THE STONE MENAGERIE
ROUND BEHIND THE ICEHOUSE
UP ON CLOUD NINE
THE ROAD OF BONES
THE DEVIL WALKS
BLOOD FAMILY
Poetry Collections
A SHAME TO MISS 1:
PERFECT POEMS FOR
YOUNG READERS
A SHAME TO MISS 2:
IDEAL POEMS FOR
MIDDLE READERS
A SHAME TO MISS 3:
IRRESISTIBLE POETRY
FOR YOUNG ADULTS
For Junior Readers
THE KILLER CAT SERIES
THE ANGEL OF NITSHILL ROAD
HOW TO WRITE REALLY BADLY
LOUDMOUTH LOUIS
BILL’S NEW FROCK
THE CHICKEN GAVE IT TO ME
IVAN THE TERRIBLE
ANNELI THE ART HATER
SAVING MISS MIRABELLE