The Cat Who Came in Off the Roof

  “My human sent me.”

  “Your what?”

  “My human, the Man I live with. He says I’m too cattish.”

  “Too what?”

  “Too cattish. And he says I keep getting more and more cattish.”

  “Does he mean perhaps that you bear some resemblance to a cat?”

  “Exactly,” Minou said.

  “Well,” said the doctor. “Let’s start at the beginning. Tell me a little about your parents. What did your father do?”

  “He was a stray,” Minou said. “I never knew him. I can’t tell you anything about him.”

  “And your mother?”

  “My mother was a tabby.”

  “Pardon?” The doctor looked at her over his glasses.

  “She was a tabby. She’s dead. They had her put to sleep.”

  “Mother, dead. Happened in her sleep,” the doctor mumbled and wrote it down.

  “Not happened in her sleep, they had her put to sleep,” Minou said.

  “How terrible,” the doctor said.

  “Yes, there was nothing they could do. She’d been hit by a car. Blinded by the lights, but it’s a long time ago.”

  “Well, carry on. Brothers or sisters?”

  “There were five of us.”

  “And you were the eldest?”

  “All five of us were the same age.”

  “Quintuplets? You don’t get many of them.”

  “Course you do,” said Minou. “Common as dirt. They gave away three of us when we were six weeks old. I was left over with my sister. The Woman thought we were the cutest.”

  She smiled tenderly at the memory and in the silence that followed the doctor clearly heard her purring. It sounded very peaceful. He was a great cat lover. He had one himself, Jemima, upstairs in his apartment.

  “The woman?” he asked. “Was that your mother?”

  “No,” Minou said. “The Woman was our human. She said I had the most adorable tail.”

  “A-ha,” said the doctor. “And when did you lose it?”

  “Lose what?”

  “Your tail.”

  She gazed pensively at him, looking so much like a cat that he started to think… oh, maybe she’s still got one. Maybe it’s curled up under her skirt.

  “I ate something out of a rubbish bin,” Minou said. “An institute’s rubbish bin. That’s what did it. But I’ve still got loads of cattish traits. I purr and I hiss. And I climb up into a tree when I see a dog.”

  “And is that a problem? Does it bother you?”

  “Not me,” Minou said. “But my human finds it unbecoming.”

  “Who’s your human?”

  “Mr Tibble from the paper. I’m his secretary. It’s all going very well but I still feel one hundred per cent cat.”

  “And is that a problem?” the doctor asked again.

  “Things do get complicated,” Minou said. “And sometimes it’s very confusing being two creatures at the same time. Half cat and half human.”

  “Ah…” said the doctor. “Sometimes it’s very confusing being all human.”

  “Really?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Minou had never thought of that. She found it an interesting idea. “Still, I’d rather just be one or the other,” she said.

  “And which would you prefer?”

  “That’s just it… I wish I knew. I can’t make up my mind. Sometimes I think I’d be so glad to be a cat again… Creeping under the golden chain tree with your tail up and the flowers brushing over your fur… and singing on the rooftops with the other cats and hunting in a garden when the young starlings have just left the nest. Sometimes I even miss the tray. Scratching in the kitty litter. But on the other hand… being a lady has advantages too.”

  “You’ll just have to wait and see how it turns out,” said the doctor.

  “I thought…” Minou said. “Maybe you can give me a mixture. Or drops. Something to…”

  “Something to what? Turn you back into a cat?”

  “No,” said Minou. “I can’t make up my mind.”

  “Well, when you have,” the doctor said, “come back here. I don’t have any mixtures or drops for you, but talking always helps.”

  There was a scratching at the door. It was the Doctor’s Cat, Jemima.

  “My cat wants to come in,” the doctor said, “but she knows she’s not allowed in here when I have a patient.”

  Minou listened for a moment to the miaowing on the other side of the door.

  “You’re wanted upstairs,” she said, “Your wife is grilling some chicken.”

  “How do you know we’re having chicken?” the doctor asked.

  “And she’s just burnt her thumb on the grill… you’re needed up there right away,” Minou said. “I’ll be off then, doctor, and I’ll come back when I know what I want.”

  The doctor ran upstairs to his apartment. His wife had a big blister on her thumb and she was furious at the grill.

  “How did you know something had happened?” she asked.

  “A very charming cat told me,” the doctor said and went to get some ointment.

  On her way home Minou heard the horrible news about the Tatter Cat. Cross-eyed Simon told her.

  “That’s terrible,” Minou said. “Her leg, you say? Broken? Was it a car? And where is she now? Are her children alone?”

  “Don’t ask so many questions at once,” said Simon. “Maybe it’s not as bad as it sounds. I heard it from the Pump Cat and he always exaggerates. Someone hit her.”

  “Hit her?”

  “That’s right, with a bottle. And she only just managed to drag herself home to the caravan and her babies.”

  “I’ll go straight there,” said Minou. “I’ll just get some food and milk for her first.”

  She found the Tatter Cat in the caravan with her kittens, surlier and angrier than ever.

  “What happened?” Minou asked, kneeling down next to the blanket. “Is it bad? Is your leg broken? Are you bleeding?”

  “They’ve crippled me,” said the stray. “With a bottle of wine. A full one. No holding back there! Have you ever heard the likes? Maybe I should feel honoured to get bashed with a bottle of burgundy!”

  “Let me feel if anything’s broken,” said Minou.

  “Don’t touch me!” screeched the Tatter Cat.

  “I just wanted to check it.”

  “Well don’t! Keep your hands to yourself.”

  “But if you’ve broken a leg, surely we need to do something about it.”

  “I’ll get over it. It’s all part of the game.”

  “But I could take you somewhere… up to our attic.”

  “I don’t want to be taken anywhere. I’d rather die. I’m fine right here.”

  Minou sighed and gave the Tatter Cat some milk and some meat.

  “Just in time,” said the cat. “I was dry as a bone. I always drink from the tap in the car park. There’s a puddle under it. But it’s right over the other side of the car park and I can hardly walk.”

  When she’d had enough to drink, she said, “It was my own stupid fault.”

  “Tell me what happened.”

  “I’m walking through those posh gardens,” said the Tatter Cat, “when I go past that big white house with all the roses. Mostly I’m too scared to go into their garden ’cause they’ve got a dog. But this time they’ve got him shut up in the garage. He’s barking like crazy, but I just ignore him because he can’t get to me anyway. The French doors are open and I smell some very tasty smells inside. And I was hungry. Because with six of these squeaky little worms you stay hungry, take it from me. Anyway, I look in. And there’s nobody in the room. But there is a big table set with food and a bunch of roses. I couldn’t care less about the roses, of course, but I smelt salmon. So what do you do? You seize the opportunity.”

  “You went in?”

  “Of course I went in. I jumped up on the table and landed with my feet right there in the salmon. And then I saw how m
uch more there was! Lobster and chicken and sliced beef. Cream and shrimps and little bowls with all kinds of sauces. And all kinds of mashes and mushes… Mrwah!” The Tatter Cat drooled all over her babies.

  “And then?”

  “And then! It made my head spin, it was incredible. I was dizzy from all that food. I didn’t know what to start on first. Idiot that I was. If I’d just eaten some of the salmon, at least I’d have had something. But those smells went to my head. And now I can’t believe I let the chance go by. I didn’t have a single bite. Mreeuw!”

  “Go on, what happened?”

  “What do you think? All of a sudden there they were.”

  “Who?”

  “The humans. The man and the woman. I hadn’t heard them come in. Stupid, but… it was like I was drunk. I dived off the table and tried to get out through the French doors, but she was standing there with a brolly and took a swing at me. So I shot back in the other direction, but that’s where he was. He’d grabbed a full bottle of wine off the table. And that hurt! Mrwowow!” The Tatter Cat whimpered.

  “How did you get out of there?”

  “Don’t ask me. I got out, that’s for sure. I think I skidded past her legs and got a whack of the brolly too, but I’m not sure about that. I shot into the garden. And first I didn’t notice anything, but when I tried to jump over the hedge… something was wrong. I couldn’t jump any more, I couldn’t climb either.”

  “How’d you get over it?” Minou asked.

  “The dog. They let the dog out of the garage. I heard him coming. He was getting close and there weren’t any holes in the hedge. None at all. I thought, you’ve had it now, old Tatter Cat. Crippled and up against a dog like that… You haven’t got a chance. But I clawed him on the nose and that made him back up for a moment. And when the horrible thing attacked again I suddenly thought of my litter of babies here and that got me up over the hedge. How I don’t know, but I made it.”

  “And how’s walking going now?” Minou asked.

  “Lousy. I just drag myself around at a snail’s pace. But I’ll get over it. It’s all part of the game. That’s the life of a stray. Anyway, at least I’m glad I gave that disgusting dog a scratch he won’t forget in a hurry.”

  “What’s the dog called?” Minou asked.

  “Mars.”

  “What?”

  “Oh, you know him, do you?”

  “I know him.” Minou said, “… but then it must have been his owner who hit you?”

  “Yes, of course, that’s what I’m telling you. Ellmore he’s called. He’s the owner of the Deodorant Factory. Where my son, the Deodorant Cat, lives.”

  “He’s also the president of an association,” said Minou. “The Animal Lovers’ Association.”

  “And there you have it,” the Tatter Cat mocked. “The same old story, no surprise there. Humans… they’re all scum.”

  “That’s terrible,” Bibi said after hearing the story. “What a horrible man. The poor Tatter Cat.”

  “You should go visit her,” Minou said. “You know where she is.”

  “Yes, I’ve already been there once. In the old caravan. Do you think she’d mind if I took a few photos of her babies?”

  Bibi took her camera with her everywhere and was constantly snapping photos. The pictures were mostly very crooked, but they were all in focus.

  Bibi and Minou had become good friends. Now they were sitting together on a bench in the park.

  “Did Tibble put it in the paper?” Bibi asked. “I mean about Mr Ellmore and the Tatter Cat?”

  “No,” Minou said. “He’s not allowed to write about cats. That’s what he said.”

  “But this isn’t just about cats! It’s about the… the president of… what was it called again?”

  “The Animal Lovers’ Association.”

  “Well, that should go straight in the paper. A man like that crippling a poor mother cat.”

  “Yes, I think so too,” said Minou, “but Tibble doesn’t want to.”

  She looked past Bibi at the low-hanging branch of an elm. Bibi followed her gaze. A little bird was sitting there, singing. Bibi turned back to Minou and was shocked… There was a very unpleasant look in her eye… just like that time with the mouse…

  “Minou!” Bibi screamed.

  Minou jumped.

  “I didn’t do anything,” she said. But she had a very guilty expression on her face.

  “It’s absolutely not allowed, remember that,” Bibi said. “Birds are just as nice as cats.”

  “When I used to live in Victoria Avenue…” Minou said dreamily.

  “When you lived where?”

  “Victoria Avenue. As a cat. I used to catch birds… Behind the house, next to the patio, there was a golden chain tree… That’s where I caught most of them and they were so…”

  “I’m not listening any more,” Bibi shouted, running off with her camera.

  “I don’t understand,” Minou said for the umpteenth time. “This has to go in the paper: Tatter Cat Crippled by the President of the Animal Lovers’ Association.”

  “No,” said Tibble. “‘Cats aren’t news,’ that’s what my boss says.”

  “Hitting a poor old mother cat with a bottle!” said Minou. “She might never recover.”

  “I’m not entirely surprised,” Tibble said hesitantly, “at someone losing their temper when they suddenly see a stray cat standing on their salmon. And I can imagine them grabbing whatever’s at hand to knock it off the table.”

  “Really?” said Minou, giving Tibble such a vicious look that he stepped back out of range of her nails.

  “In any case, it’s not something for the paper,” he said. “And that’s all there is to it.”

  Whenever Minou was angry, she got into her box to sulk. She was about to do that now, but Fluff came in through the kitchen window with a long-drawn-out miaow.

  “What’s he saying?” Tibble asked.

  “The fishmonger?” cried Minou.

  “Rwo… wwieeu… row…” Fluff continued. He told her an ecstatic story in Cattish, then disappeared again, back on the roof.

  “What about the fishmonger?” Tibble asked.

  “He’s in hospital!”

  “Really? I thought it sounded like Fluff had good news.”

  “The fishmonger got hit by a car,” Minou said. “It ran right into his fish stall. All the local cats are going straight there because there’s fish spread all over the road.”

  “I’m on my way,” Tibble said. “I can write an article about this.” And he grabbed his pad.

  “I’m going too,” Minou said. “Over the roof, that’s faster.”

  She tried to climb out of the window, but Tibble stopped her. “No, Miss Minou. I don’t want my secretary scrounging around an upset fish stall like an old alley cat!”

  Minou gave him a haughty look.

  “What’s more,” said Tibble, “there’s bound to be a lot of people there and you don’t like that.”

  “Fine, I’ll stay here,” said Minou. “I’ll hear the news on the roof.”

  There were a lot of people in Green Square. A real crowd. The police were there, there was glass on the street from the broken windows and the fish stall was completely wrecked; there were slats and boards all over the place, the bunting had been trodden underfoot and the last cat was running off with the last herring.

  Mr Smith was looking around too.

  “They just drove off with the fishmonger,” he said. “They’re taking him to hospital. He’s got a broken rib.”

  “What happened?” Tibble asked.

  “A car! But the weird thing is nobody knows which car. It was a hit and run. Outrageous!”

  “Weren’t there any witnesses? Right in the middle of the day?”

  “No,” said Mr Smith. “It was twelve noon exactly, everyone was having lunch. They all heard the smash but by the time they’d come out to have a look, the car had gone round the corner.”

  “And the fishmonger?” br />
  “He doesn’t know either. One moment he was gutting some herring, the next thing he’s upside down, stall and all. The police have questioned everyone here in the neighbourhood, but no one saw the car. It must have been a stranger, someone from out of town.”

  Tibble looked around. There was a cat eating something on the corner of the square. The cats must have seen who it was, he thought. And I bet Minou has already been informed.

  He was right.

  “We’ve known who it was for ages,” she said when Tibble arrived back upstairs. “Everyone’s told everyone else up on the rooftops. It was Mr Ellmore’s car. He was in it too. It was him.”

  Tibble could hardly believe it. “Come on,” he said. “Why would a man like that keep driving after an accident? He’d report it straight away.”

  “The cats saw it,” Minou said. “You know how there’s always cats hanging around the fish stall. Cross-eyed Simon was there and so was the School Cat and Ecumenica too. They all saw it. Now you can put it in the paper.”

  Tibble sat down and started chewing his fingernails.

  “That’s right, isn’t it?” asked Minou. “This can go in the paper, can’t it?”

  “No,” said Tibble. “I’ll write an article about the accident. But I can’t say Ellmore was the driver. There’s no proof.”

  “No proof? But three cats—”

  “Yes, cats! But what good’s that? There wasn’t a single witness.”

  “There were three witnesses.”

  “Cats aren’t witnesses.”

  “No?”

  “No. I can hardly write in the paper: according to information we have received from several cats, the vehicle that smashed into the fish stall was driven by prominent Killenthorn resident Mr Ellmore. I just can’t. Don’t you understand that?”

  Minou didn’t understand. She left the room and got into her box without a word.

  At night on the roof Cross-eyed Simon said, “There’s someone waiting for you at the Town Hall.”

  “Who?”

  “The Deodorant Cat. He’s got news.”

  Minou went straight there. It was three in the morning and very quiet on the square. Two marble lions were crouched in front of the Town Hall, each with a marble shield between its knees.