So I now had human friends and cat friends who were expecting babies – and none of them seemed very happy about it. By the way, Charlie, I noticed you looking a bit apprehensive when I mentioned George taking me to the vet’s for that little operation. Honestly, it wasn’t because George was being cruel to me, even though at the time I admit I was frightened out of my life.
‘Ollie,’ he said in his kind, reassuring voice, ‘I’ll never know exactly what happened to you when you were very tiny, but when you were handed in to the people at the Cats’ Protection League, you were starving, and lucky to be alive.’
You can imagine how I shuddered to be reminded of this, but he quickly went on:
‘Your mother was probably a stray who had lots of kittens and, sadly, whoever found you and your brothers and sisters didn’t want you. There are lots of poor stray cats in the world, Ollie, all of them homeless and hungry and having lots of unwanted kittens that nobody looks after. If I didn’t have you neutered, we’d just be adding to the problem. It wouldn’t be your fault – you’d just be following your instincts. But I want to be a responsible cat owner, and do what’s right.’
At the time, although I was moved by what he said, I didn’t fully understand. But I loved George and knew he would never do anything to hurt me. And it’s never bothered me, about having girlfriends. What you’ve never had you’ve never missed. So if your humans make the same decision for you, don’t be frightened. Look at me – I’ve turned out fine, haven’t I?
It was different for my human friends, Nicky and Daniel, of course. Humans tend to stay in their pairs, and keep their human kittens with them and bring them up together. Well, so I’ve been led to believe, although it doesn’t always seem to work out that way. It seems a good arrangement when it works out well, though, and because Nicky and Daniel were such nice humans, who obviously loved each other, I was sure they would stay together and be good parents if only they weren’t so worried about money.
One afternoon, as I passed the place outside the village shop where the pram-pushing females always stopped to chat, I overheard the one called Louise saying:
‘It’s all very well, this idea of looking after each other’s children after Kay’s retired. But I work five mornings a week. Everyone else who works part-time seems to do two or three whole days, so there’s no one available to cover all the hours I work. I’ve asked my boss if I can change to a different arrangement, but it’s no good – he specifically needs me in the office every day. He says I could do less hours each day if necessary, but that wouldn’t help at all. I’d still have no one to look after Freya and Henry, and I’d be earning less money.’
‘What are you going to do?’ Hayley asked her.
‘I have no idea. I’m worried I might lose my job. My mum might be able to come over a couple of days a week, but it’s asking a lot. She doesn’t drive and it’s a long way on the bus. I’ve written an advert, actually, appealing for a nanny. I couldn’t afford a live-in one, and anyway it’d only be for twenty hours a week.’ She waved a piece of paper at her friends. ‘I’m just going to put it on the notice board. But I doubt I’ll have any luck. I can’t think of anyone suitable in the village.’
‘No. Maybe you should advertise in the local paper. You might get someone from Great Broomford, or one of the other villages,’ one of the other women said.
‘Yes. I’ll do that. Thanks.’
Louise went off with her pram, looking tired and worried. I followed her to the notice board and watched as she pinned her paper up.
‘Oh, hello, Oliver,’ she said, almost tripping over me as she turned back to the pram. ‘How are you?’ She bent down and gave me a little stroke. I didn’t mind. I’d got used to the pram ladies. ‘I wish I had your life. No worries, just a nice warm bed and someone to feed you. Lucky old you.’
Actually I could have argued with that. After all, I’d been through enough worries and trauma to last me all nine lifetimes, hadn’t I. But it was true that I was quite comfortably off these days and was certainly beginning to be aware of how difficult life could be for some humans. I walked round her legs, giving her a little head rub to console her, before scampering off after a couple of sparrows who’d caught my attention, hopping about under a nearby hedge.
That same evening, Sarah and Martin were talking about Nicky and Daniel again. They obviously so badly wanted to help them, and I really wished there was something I could do, too.
‘I know the local mums are getting this child minding rota organised,’ Martin said. ‘But are you sure there isn’t anyone in the village who might prefer to pay someone – someone well-qualified like Nicky – to look after their kids?’
‘Not as far as I’m aware,’ Sarah said with a shrug. ‘And I’m not being funny, but not many people around here really know Nicky yet, let alone know she’s a nursery carer. If she comes to a WI meeting, I can introduce her to people and perhaps everyone can put the word about for her, but you know what she said – she earns top dollars at that nursery in London and … what is it, Ollie? Do you want to go outside? Go on, then, the cat flap isn’t locked.’
Sometimes, Charlie, I wish so badly that we could talk Human as well as being able to understand it. It can be so frustrating wanting to tell people something important, when all they can think of is our toilet requirements!
I waited till the next time I saw Daniel outside the cottage. It must have been a Saturday because he was carrying the rucksack he brought me home in that very first day, and was heading off towards the woods, whistling. He always did that when he went hunting for firewood. I think he enjoyed it, a bit like us hunting mice, but easier of course because humans are pathetic hunters.
‘Meow!’ I said to him. ‘Meow, meow, meow!’ I tried to make it sound as urgent as possible.
He stopped and looked at me. ‘What’s up, Ollie? Didn’t any of us give you your breakfast this morning?’
Honestly, if it isn’t our toilet requirements, it’s our stomachs. I suppose we should be grateful, but don’t they realise we do occasionally have thoughts that don’t concern our bodily functions?
‘MeOW!’ I shouted at him, and stalked down the road a few paces in front of him, twitching my tail and looking back to see if he’d got the message.
‘You want to come to the woods with me, boy?’ he said, still standing on the spot staring after me.
No, for mewing out loud, I’m going in the opposite direction, I thought with exasperation.
‘You want me to come with you?’
At last! Finally, he caught up with me and I bounded ahead to where the notice board stood outside the wreck of the village hall. I have to say, it took several frustrating minutes of walking round and round the posts supporting the notice board, several walks around Daniel’s legs and then back to rub my head against the posts again, before he started looking at the notices.
‘Domino team meetings, next venue TBA,’ he read out loud. ‘Pensioners’ afternoon tea at Barbara Griggs’s house. Cub Scouts’ cook-out in Clive and Beryl’s garden, please bring own sausages.’
Further down! I wanted to shout.
‘Mums-and-babies group – next meeting at Hayley’s house Tuesday 2pm, we will sing nursery rhymes, bring shakers. Shakers?’ he asked himself, looking puzzled. Then: ‘Child minding rota. As you know Kay’s nursery business is closing 31 December. Please add your availability and requirements. Oh yes. That’s what Sarah and Martin were telling us about. And what’s this? Louise and Dave Porter require kind, qualified person to care for Freya, three, and Henry, eighteen months, twenty hours per week, Monday to Friday mornings, payment by agreement. Apply to … Wow, Ollie. This might be right up Nicky’s street. Lucky I saw it, eh?’ He gave me a funny look then. ‘If it wasn’t a ridiculous thing to think, I could almost believe you knew this was here.’