“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.
He snuggled up closer to his tabby sisters, and closed his eyes. The hay was soft and warm, and he quickly fell asleep, never dreaming that everything was about to change.
Chapter Three
The next morning, the kittens were startled awake by the noise of a vehicle driving into the yard. Mrs Bowen didn’t have a car, and she took most of her eggs to the village shop to sell, so very few people drove up to the farm. The kittens blinked at each other, then peered blearily over the edge of their straw nest. The kittens’ mother, the spotted tabby cat, went to stick her nose round the old barn door. The ginger kitten pattered after her, eager to see what was going on. He wriggled between his mother’s front paws, staring out into the yard.
Mrs Bowen was standing by the back of a van, next to two girls. One of the girls opened up the doors and started to unload some odd-looking boxes. The van smelled strange, the kitten thought. He’d never smelled anything quite like it before. And what were those wire box things?
His mother was tense beside him, her whiskers pricked out as she watched what was going on. His brother and sisters were starting to mew and cry back in their nest, as they smelled the fear scents on their mother and the other older cats who were watching, too. They just didn’t trust humans. The tabby cat backed into the barn so that her ginger baby wasn’t between her paws any more, and butted him hard with her nose.
He looked round in surprise. What was the matter? Why was she pushing him? Was it a game? Then he saw that her eyes were wide with fear, and the fur had risen all along her back. This was no game. She swiped the kitten with her paw, sending him sliding out into the yard, and then she hissed at him with her ears laid flat back against her head. It was quite clear what she was telling him to do.
Run!
The ginger kitten scooted quickly out of the barn door, heading for the old tractor. The tyre had come away from the wheel, and the ginger kitten had found this wonderful hiding place while he was playing at jumping out on top of his sisters. There he waited, his heart thudding with fear, trying to work out what was going on.
His mother had darted back into the barn to try and fetch his brother and sisters, and some of the other cats were trying to make a run for it, too. But as soon as they’d seen that the cats knew they were there, the two girls had quickly put a net round the barn door. Now they’d put on big gloves, and they were catching the cats with strange things that gripped them round the neck.
Ginger watched in horror as one by one his brother and sisters were caught, and placed into wire cages. He could hear them mewing frantically as the cages were loaded into the van. Then one of the girls walked right up to the tractor where he was hiding.
The kitten edged back as far as he could go, trembling. He didn’t want the girl to see him, but now he couldn’t see what was happening. Where were they taking his brother and sisters? Were they all in that horrible-smelling van? Had they caught his mother, too? He couldn’t see! His tail thrashed from side to side as the girl walked past, searching – for him, maybe. Ginger curled himself into the tiniest ball, his eyes wide with fear.
“I’ve just caught the last one. I’m glad I had my gloves, she was struggling like anything!” shouted a voice from across the farmyard. Ginger then listened as the girl walked away from the tractor and the van doors slammed shut.