Porridge the Tartan Cat Books 1 to 3

by Alan Dapré

  “Good idea,” said Ross.

  “Vijay’s Café is only a hop, step and jump away,” squeaked Mini Mum, hitching a ride on a passing frog. They hopped off the pavement onto a step, then jumped through an open door.

  “Didn’t you go to school with Vijay?” asked Ross, scooping Mum up and placing her on a table inside.

  “Aye, when I was wee.”

  “You still are wee,” giggled Isla. “Over lunch, we can chat about how to make you bigger. I’m hungry.”

  Vijay got his skates on and came over very quickly. His four-wheeled footwear helped him serve customers in super-quick time.

  WHEEEEEEEE-SQUEEEK-WHEEEEEE-EEK

  “Hello, Vijay,” squeaked Mini Mum, waving at him from an upturned cup.

  “Hi pal. You look different.” He peered down. “Your hair is shorter.”

  “So is the rest of me,” said Mini Mum.

  “It’s a long story,” said Isla.

  “Short story.” Ross grinned. “Mini Mum became super-short when she ate some super-short shortbread!”

  “I’m still a wee bit hungry,” she squeaked, opening the menu.

  Isla took a big breath and smelled… nothing.

  Not a sausage. And if you put this book to your nose and really sniff you won’t smell a sausage either.

  Probably because this is just a book. An ordinary book about an extraordinary cat.

  Everything on the menu was crossed out, apart from the hot cross buns, which were already crossed.

  “All my fresh food has been eaten by beasties from the pet shop next door,” sighed Vijay. “I keep this place spotless – even the spotty tablecloths – but last week a customer found a mouse in her moussaka and another had a rat in his ratatouille. It was terrible!”

  “You mean Windy Wendy’s pet shop?” asked Ross.

  “Aye, the pongy one. They must be escaping from the smell.” Vijay lowered his voice. “Never go in unless you have a cold. Or a clothes peg. Or an excuse never to go in.”

  “We were going to put up a poster there after lunch.” Isla showed Vijay the picture she had drawn. “We think our tartan cat vanished in this van.”

  “It looks a bit small,” joked Vijay. “How did Porridge fit in?”

  “Och, this is just a wee drawing,” giggled Isla. “The real van is much bigger.”

  Vijay took the twins and Mini Mum to look out of a window at the back of the café. “Is it as big as that van over there?”

  “Yes!” whooped Isla, “because that is the van we’re looking for! Who owns it?”

  Vijay explained. “My neighbour, Windy Wendy. She drives the van at night, and parks behind her pet shop every morning. She has an odd offer on: free fishy biscuits to tartan cats only.”

  Isla shivered. “That does sound fishy.”

  “I hope Porridge is OK,” said Ross.

  Quick, let’s go to the next chapter and check if I am!

  12

  Something Fishy

  If you look closely at the picture below you will see a stuffed tartan cushion. If you look very closely you will see a stuffed tartan cat on a stuffed tartan cushion.

  Me-burp!

  I had planned to scoff fishy biscuits until I built up enough strength to snap my shiny collar and bash my way to freedom. But now I was so stuffed I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak either, in case I set off my collar alarm and woke the crocs.

  Me-snap!

  Moggiarty rattled his cage and growled, “Your noisy bell kept me awake last night.”

  My unhappy tum grumbled back.

  G-RRRR-UUMMMMBBLE!

  “You’re only grumbling because those fishy biscuits were stale,” snickered Moggiarty. “They’re rotten old rejects from the Fishy Biscuit Factory! You should never have come back here. Go home. You’re about as welcome as a sprout on a chocolate birthday cake.”

  Home.

  It seemed like only yesterday that I was there. (Um, probably because it was yesterday.)

  Home.

  The marvellous McFun family only feed me fresh fishy biscuits. So fresh, they practically swim into my food bowl!

  Me-sigh.

  I missed them more than clumsy cats miss mice.

  Mmmm. Mice.

  13

  Falling Out

  Windy Wendy spent all morning feeding the animals. She was feeding the grasshoppers to the lizards and the lizards to the buzzards when something unexpected happened. The pet shop door creaked open and the twins walked in!

  Me-phew!

  I wasn’t expecting that! I squinted through a crack in the boarded-up window of the WENDY PORIDJ HOUSE.

  Me-yay!

  My mega-super-well-OK-not-bad eyes spied Mini Mum in Isla’s hood. Then my mega-super-well-OK-not-bad ears heard her whisper to the twins.

  “Keep a look out for trouble. And Porridge.”

  “It’s the same thing,” muttered Isla.

  Charming.

  Hidden in the gloom at the back of the room, all I could do was look on in silence. I couldn’t meow or move off my cushion without setting off the pesky alarm.

  Windy Wendy kept her gaze on the trembling twins. Her smile was wide but her eyes were narrow, and full of nasty suspicion. And nasty gritty stuff in the corners.

  “How can I help you?” warbled Windy Wendy.

  “We’ve lost our cat. Have you seen a tartan cat around?”

  “No.”

  “What about this van?” asked Ross. He handed her a poster.

  Windy Wendy barely glanced at the picture. She paced about with a shifty look on her face and wiped away a trickle of sweat with a handy hamster.

  “NO!” she said, raising her voice.

  “Really?” said Ross. He ran to the back of the shop and raised the window blind. Outside, the fishy van was clearly visible, parked in the passage behind the pet shop.

  “I’ve never seen that van before!” fibbed Windy Wendy. She yanked down the blind with astonishing speed.

  SLATTER-CLATTER!

  As the last of the daylight left the room, Mini Mum glimpsed three words scrawled above a wee wooden door: WENDY PORIDJ HOUSE.

  Mini Mum jumped in surprise and toppled from Isla’s hood. I blinked in astonishment as she fell between the bars of Moggiarty’s cage! Now she was in terrible danger – I had to warn the twins!

  But how?

  “Out!” snapped Windy Wendy. “My pet shop is shut!”

  “Let’s go,” sighed Ross.

  I forgot all about the cranky crocs and tried to yowl as loud as I could, but my throat was too dry from munching those stale fishy biscuits.

  “Don’t come back,” cried Windy Wendy, locking the door behind the twins.

  Och, they still didn’t know Mini Mum had fallen out of Isla’s hood! She was in big trouble. She had tumbled into a bed of straw that belonged to the meanest, moodiest cat in town: MOGGIARTY!

  14

  Hide and Squeak

  Windy Wendy settled down for a snooze while Mini Mum, trapped in Moggiarty’s cage, squeaked like a mouse.

  “Somebody help me!”

  Me-shhh!

  Never squeak like a mouse when a cat is about.

  Moggiarty stared suspiciously at the straw then fished around with a curious paw. How scary is that? Och, at least a ghostillion, which is a scarily big number I just made up.

  Got you! he hissed, plucking her out like a lucky dip prize.

  I could hardly look. I was afraid of what Moggiarty might do to her. Eat her with relish?

  “I’ll eat her just as she is,” said Moggiarty, who didn’t like relish very much.

  He held up his wee two-legged lunch and licked his lips. Nothing could stop him munching Mini Mum now.

  TRUMP-PA-RUMP!

  Except that!

  Moggiarty leaped like a startled cat because he was startled and a cat. (I’ve used that joke before but I am recycling. It’s a very good thing to do. Ask your teacher.)

  He crashed against his rusty bars and sent
the cage toppling to the floor.

  SPLANG-FLANG-A-DANG!

  The dented cage tumbled open and Moggiarty stumbled out. He reached through the bent bars and pawed at the straw.

  “Where’s she gone now?” the grey cat grunted.

  He asked a bored-looking owl, who didn’t give a hoot (get it?!).

  Mini Mum had vanished.

  Will we ever see her again? Will you ever read about her again? You’ll find out in a really exciting chapter called The Really Exciting Chapter!

  (Cue dramatic music.)

  DUN-DUN-DUUUUN!

  (And dramatic rustling of pages.)

  RUSTLE-RUSTLE-RUUUUSTLE!

  15

  The Really Exciting Chapter!

  I was still on my tartan cushion in the WENDY PORIDJ HOUSE when a wee friendly face appeared at the boarded up window.

  Mini Mum!

  She had climbed up the side of the wee house on a dusty old spider’s web. “I knew you were here,” she whispered. “I saw a sign that said WENDY PORIDJ HOUSE.”

  Mini Mum was talking quietly, but not quietly enough. Moggiarty spun round at the sound, ready to pound the ground like a hound.

  “Catch me if you can,” squeaked Mini Mum, squeezing between the wooden strips that covered the broken window.

  Moggiarty missed her by a whisker! (She was hanging off one of mine.) He slammed against the side of the wee house and slid down instead!

  “I’ll take a wee rest,” puffed Mini Mum. She twanged off my whisker onto the soft tartan cushion. As she did so, a grumpy grey cat rattled the doorknob. A moment later, Moggiarty keeked through the crack in the boarded-up window.

  “Let me in, let me in,” he growled, with a wolfish grin.

  “No, no, not by the hair on my tartan chinny chin chin,” I whispered, going all Three Little Pigs on him.

  Moggiarty began to huff and puff about how great he was at blowing down houses, but it all was just a lot of hot air. Och, the playhouse was 100% windproof.

  It had to be, when Windy Wendy was about.

  16

  Cat On a Not Tin Roof

  For those of you who have picked this book up in a shop or library, and randomly opened it at this page, here is the fabutastic story so far.

  I was trapped, with Mini Mum, in THE WORST PET SHOP IN THE WORLD and here is a certificate to prove it:

  We were stuck in the WENDY PORIDJ HOUSE, over the crocodile trapdoor, with a wolfish cat trying to get in by the hairs on his chinny chin chin.

  A beautiful beantiful smell wafted through a low hole in the wall. It tickled my nose…

  Me-sniff!

  Windy Wendy sniffed too, even though she had fallen asleep with her feet resting on a hibernating tortoise.

  “Beaaaannns,” she muttered between her snores.

  She was completely unaware of the grey cat who had sneaked his way over and was now swinging from a parrot cage above her head.

  Mini Mum and I watched in amazement as Moggiarty clung on and swung forward and back. What was he trying to do?

  That was Carrot, the orange parrot, by the way. He was talking and squawking loudly inside his swinging cage.

  Moggiarty let go, flew towards us and dug his claws deep in the roof of the WENDY PORIDJ HOUSE.

  Windy Wendy opened one eye. “Stop that squawking,” she shouted, “or I’ll crunch an orange Carrot for lunch!” She sniffed and suddenly had a better idea. “I smell beaaannnns, beans, glorious beans! Nothing can beat them. I really MUST eat them!”

  Me-wow!

  She leapt from her chair and flicked her tongue in the air like a snake (but not an adder because she was rubbish at maths). She slithered past the lizards and bent down by the hole in the wall.

  “The smell is coming from Vijay’s Café,” she muttered.

  I had a brawsome thought. If a mini smell could come in, maybe a Mini Mum could get out?

  “I neeeeed beaaannnns,” said Windy Wendy, lumbering to the pet shop door, hungry as a bear. She didn’t see Moggiarty clinging to the roof of the WENDY PORIDJ HOUSE. At the door, Windy Wendy reached into a hiding place in her whiffy right boot and plucked out a rusty key.

  “See you later, alligator. And badger and cockroach and dragonfly and emu and flea…” she cackled alphabetically, flying out of the shop like a witch on an invisible broomstick.

  KER-LIKKK!

  The key turned. I was locked in! All alone, apart from Mini Mum, Moggiarty and 722 other animals, not counting the ants, because that would take ages.

  17

  Saved By The Bell

  With Windy Wendy out of the way, Moggiarty was free to do as he pleased. He dangled off the roof of the WENDY PORIDJ HOUSE and batted the bolt on the door.

  BAT! BAT! BAT!

  Three bats flew over his head.

  “I don’t like the sound of that,” squeaked Mini Mum, terror flashing across her tiny face.

  I swiftly hid her in my thick furry coat. Just in time. The door bolt slid open, and so did the door. A grinning grey cat dropped to the floor. I shrank back on my cushion, unable to move in case the cranky crocs got me.

  Me-snap!

  “Where is that tasty two-legged treat?” the grey cat hissed, licking its paw and looking for Mini Mum.

  “I ate it,” I fibbed. I poked out my tongue and showed him Mini Mum’s tiny goggles.

  “That was greedy!” growled Moggiarty, prowling around my tartan cushion. By now, he wasn’t looking at me – his eyes were fixed on his old brass bell. “You’re in deep trouble after I get that back.”

  He swiped at the bell with a pesky paw.

  “You’re in deep trouble now,” I whispered.

  “Why?” he hissed.

  “You’re not on the cushion.”

  A flap flew open above Moggiarty’s head and a flood of stale fishy biscuits cascaded onto him. Soon I was staring at a big biscuity mountain, with only the tip of a tail sticking out.

  “I’ll get you for this,” said a thin voice. Moggiarty had no room to move his paws, only his jaws. There was a muffled munch-a-crunch from deep within, as he slowly tried to chomp his way out.

  Me-yuk!

  I’d rather eat this book.

  “Thanks Porridge!” Mini Mum climbed out of my fur and ran to the open door of the pesky WENDY PORIDJ HOUSE. “Let’s get out of here!”

  She beckoned me over but I shook my head. I gave my collar a sad tug, then jabbed my tail at the floor.

  A terrible gnashing and clashing of teeth came from below.

  SNAP SNAP SNAP

  The crocodiles were playing cards, to see who would crunch a tartan cat for lunch. I swung my front paws open and shut and mimed their big jaws.

  SNAP SNAP SNAP

  “Crocodiles!” gasped Mini Mum. “If you’re on the menu, there’s no time to waste. I’ll get the twins.”

  I nodded quickly. It was all I could do!

  She paused at the door of the WENDY PORIDJ HOUSE and glanced around the gloomy room. “How can I get out of the pet shop?”

  Me-think!

  Och, I knew the answer to that – through the wee hole where the smell got in! I jabbed my mega-super-well-OK-not-bad tail towards it, and Mini Mum ran off. My mega-super-well-OK-not-bad ears heard her faint sniff.

  “I’ve caught a faint whiff of Vijay’s beans! I won’t be long!”

  Skirting from skirting board to skirting board, Mini Mum got to the small hole without being seen by any more hungry animals.

  Me-phew!

  One cheery wave later and she was gone. Now I was all alone again, apart from all those animals I listed earlier. All 722.

  And the ants.

  And dribbly, nibbly Moggiarty under a pile of fishy biscuits. And a murderous crowd of crocodiles.

  Me-gulp!

  18

  Fang Bungler

  My mega-super-well-OK-not-bad ears heard the twins’ anxious footsteps, pacing this way and that by the van at the back of the pet shop.

  “That Windy Wend
y is hiding something,” said Ross.

  “Aye, it’s time we checked out this fishy-looking van,” said Isla. “Maybe Porridge is stuck inside?”

  The twins took a quick look, full of hope.

  It was full of empty. I’d eaten all the fishy biscuits inside, remember?

  “It’s quiet without Porridge…” said Ross sadly.

  “Mini Mum’s quiet too… I haven’t heard a squeak from her since we visited the pet shop,” said Isla. “I think she’s fallen asleep.”

  “Or fallen out!” gasped Ross.

  The twins checked Isla’s hood – it was empty!

  “Quick, back to the pet shop!” Isla cried.

  But the door was locked, and when the worried twins banged on it, there was no answer.

  “What should we do?” asked Ross. “Maybe Vijay has seen her?”

  The twins trudged back to the café. I heard their sad sighs and I let out a quiet sob. I was sad. They were sad. Even the crocodiles in the cellar below me were sad, but that only made them snappier.

  ***

  “Cheer up,” said Vijay when he saw their glum faces. “You’ll find Porridge… just like I found these beans hidden at the back of a cupboard.”

  He showed them a big pan of bubbling beans.

  Mmmm. Beans.

  “It’s not just Porridge, we’ve lost Mini Mum now too!” sighed Ross.

  “Have you seen her?” asked Isla.

  “No,” said Vijay. “Did you lose her in the pet shop?”

  Ross shrugged. “Windy Wendy locked it up. We can’t get in.”