by Helen Peters
“No,” said Tom gloomily. “I’ve tried and tried, but she won’t budge.”
“Why are our parents so unreasonable?” said Jasmine. “We’ve already got cats, so a couple more kittens in our house just for a few weeks wouldn’t make any difference. I bet they wouldn’t even notice them. And your mum works from home, so you’d think she’d be happy to have a beautiful little kitten to keep her company.”
“I know,” said Tom. “I don’t understand them at all.”
“Do you like it?” Jasmine asked Tom. “We put the tree up earlier than usual, because of this dinner party.”
“It looks amazing,” said Tom. “Your decorations are so nice.”
Jasmine turned to the kitten in her arms. “Isn’t it pretty, Holly?”
“She loves the lights,” said Tom. “Look how she’s staring at them.”
It was four weeks later, and Holly was eight weeks old. Mum and Dad were giving a dinner party tonight. Jasmine couldn’t remember them ever doing such a thing before, but Mum had decided that they owed several people an invitation and they might as well invite them all at once and get it over with. Although it was still only morning, Mum had already laid the dining table with candles and wine glasses and the antique china that had belonged to Jasmine’s grandmother.
“And I know we usually wait until Christmas Eve to decorate the tree,” she had said, “but it will be nice to have the house looking festive. And if the tree’s up, hopefully everyone will look at that and not the dust.”
So they had fetched a tree from the woods yesterday afternoon, and had spent this morning decorating it. Holly had been banished from the room after causing havoc by leaping into boxes of decorations, shredding tissue paper and manically chasing baubles around the floor.
While the dinner party was going on, the children were also to be banished, in their case to the sitting room for pizza and TV, which to Jasmine seemed by far the better option.
“Don’t let the cats anywhere near this room from now on, will you?” said Mum, adjusting a tablemat by half a centimetre.
“I won’t,” said Jasmine. “We just brought Holly down to see the fairy lights.”
“Well, pop her back in her playpen and go and fetch the cat basket for those kittens.”
As the kittens were now weaned, Mum had decided it was time to trap, neuter and return them and their mother to the shed, before the cat became pregnant again. Despite all Jasmine’s attempts at persuasion, she had remained firm.
“They’ll be perfectly happy in the shed,” she said. “You can still put food out for them.
They’ll have a good life as farm cats and they’ll help to keep the vermin down.”
Over the past few weeks, Jasmine had gradually moved the cat’s food and water bowls closer and closer to the tool shed, until finally she had put them in the shed itself. She had also put a cardboard box lined with an old blanket in there, so they didn’t have to sleep on sacks.
Jasmine had hoped that the cat would become friendly if she was being fed, and then she would be able to play with the kittens and tame them. But it hadn’t worked out that way. The cat tolerated Jasmine bringing food in, but she hissed and spat if she tried to approach her kittens.
So Jasmine just watched them through the shed window, as they jumped on to boxes, scrabbled over sacks, tumbled in and out of plant pots and endlessly wrestled each other, rolling over and over on the dusty floor, nipping each other’s tails and fur. They tried to play with their mother, too, but she mostly just batted them away with her paw.
“I bet it would only take us a few days to tame them,” said Jasmine now, as they walked to the shed with the cat basket. “We could probably have them tamed by Monday if you’d let us bring them indoors.”
Mum pretended she hadn’t heard.
The trap for the mother cat was a large cage with a spring door that could be set to snap shut when the cat stepped on a metal plate on the cage floor. It had already been in the shed for a few days, with the spring door wedged open. Jasmine had put the food bowl inside it, so the cat had got used to walking into the trap for her food. Last night, Mum had set the spring once Jasmine had placed the food bowl inside, and the cat had walked into the trap straightaway. She hissed and spat at first, but they had put a blanket over the trap to make her feel safe, and she had calmed down after a while.
“I know it doesn’t seem nice to trap her,” Mum had said, “but she’ll be much happier and healthier in the long run. And we have to catch her the night before, because she’ll only walk into the trap for food, and she can’t have any food for twelve hours before the operation.”
They had blocked up the hole in the shed wall so the kittens couldn’t escape, and Jasmine had removed their food bowl before she went to bed, so that they too would have empty stomachs before their operations.
Now, Mum softly opened the door. The cat was sleeping in the trap and the kittens were curled up in their box.
Tom and Jasmine, each holding a small towel, crept towards the sleeping kittens. They caught each other’s eyes and then, at exactly the same time, they each picked up a kitten, wrapped it snugly in a towel and held it close to their chests.
“Neatly done, you two,” said Mum. “Good work.”
Jasmine smiled at the beautiful tabby kitten in her arms. It had blue eyes and thick fluffy fur. It was miaowing but not struggling. She held it against her chest and stroked it gently from behind, up the forehead and down between the ears. “Hello, little one,” she said.
The ginger kitten was wilder than the tabby. It was struggling, hissing and spitting. Tom held it firmly and stroked the back of its head.
“Look at its eyes,” he said. “They’re bright green.”
“They’re amazing,” said Jasmine. “Are they boys or girls, Mum?”
Mum took the tabby kitten and examined it. “This one’s a girl.”
Tom handed her the ginger kitten. She held it in the towel as she examined it. “And this one’s a boy.”
The kitten stopped struggling and fixed his big green eyes on Mum. She looked back at it. “You are very lovely,” she said.
Tom and Jasmine glanced at each other. Was Mum weakening?
Mum handed the kitten back to Tom. “Right, pop them in the basket and drape the towels on top.”
Her phone rang and she stepped into the garden to answer it. She was on call again this weekend.
With a heavy heart, Jasmine placed the tabby kitten in the plastic cat carrier. Tom did the same with her brother. The kittens miaowed and ran to the sides, trying to escape from this strange new prison.
“It’s OK,” said Jasmine. “You’re all safe. And you won’t be in there for long.”
Mum came back into the shed. “Bad timing, I’m afraid. I’ve got to go to a calving. I shouldn’t be long. Just put the kittens’ basket next to the trap, and I’ll take them to the surgery when I get back. Give them a bowl of water and they’ll be fine for an hour or two. Thank goodness Dad’s cooking tonight. I’ll see you soon.”
She hurried off.
Jasmine looked at Tom, her eyes gleaming with excitement.
“This is our chance! I bet we could tame them in a couple of hours. Let’s take them inside.”
Tom’s eyes lit up. Then they clouded over with doubt. “What about your mum?”
Jasmine shrugged. “What can she do? She can only put them outdoors again, and she’s doing that already. And this way, we’ve got one more chance to convince her that we can look after all three of them. Come on. Let’s see if these two remember their sister.”
In Jasmine’s room, Holly was dribbling a ping pong ball around her playpen. She stopped and ran to the side of the pen when Tom and Jasmine came in. They set the basket gently on the floor next to her.
“Holly, your sister and brother are in this basket,” said Jasmine. “Do you remember them?”
“Holly must smell completely different now,” said Tom. “They won’t recognise her scent.”
“They’ll be exhausted in a minute,” said Jasmine.
Sure enough, after a few minutes the kittens started to calm down. “We should pick them up and handle them,” said Tom.
“We need to pick Holly up too,” said Jasmine, “or she’ll get jealous. I’ll fetch Ella.”
Ella was quite happy to be called away from her books to come and pet a kitten. “You take the tabby,” said Jasmine. “She’s tamer. I’ll take the wild one and Tom can pet Holly. Ella, you take the lid off the basket and Tom and I will get the kittens.”
They wrapped the kittens in towels and Tom handed the tabby to Ella while he let Holly out of her playpen. Holly purred as he held her and talked to her. The other two kittens struggled and mewed as Jasmine and Ella stroked them.
“You should call the ginger kitten Mistletoe,” said Ella, “because his eyes are the colour of mistletoe leaves.”
“Then the tabby should be Ivy,” said Tom.
“Holly, Ivy and Mistletoe,” said Jasmine. “Perfect.”
She turned as the door opened. Ben and Manu stood in the doorway. Their eyes lit up as they saw the kittens.
“You brought them in!” said Manu. “Did Mum change her mind?”
“Not exactly,” said Jasmine, “but we’re going to tame them and then she will.”
“We should do that experiment on them,” Ben said to Manu.
“Oh, yes,” said Manu. “Can we borrow one, Jas?”
Jasmine held Mistletoe closer. “No way are you two coming near these kittens,” she said. “What experiment, anyway?”
“It’s a science experiment we thought up,” said Ben. “You know how everyone says cats always land on their feet?”
“And everyone says toast always lands butter side down,” said Manu. “So we thought, if we tied a piece of buttered toast to a cat’s back and dropped it out of a window, we could see which way up it landed, and then we’d know which rule was stronger.”
“If you dare come anywhere near these kittens, Manu,” said Jasmine, “I’ll tie a piece of toast to your back and throw you out of a window. Then you can see how you like it.”
It wasn’t long before all three kittens were fast asleep. Ella brought her homework into Jasmine’s room, so she could guard them from kidnap attempts while Jasmine and Tom took Sky for a walk.
Mum still wasn’t back when they returned. Ella was sitting at Jasmine’s desk, surrounded by books, typing on her laptop. But the doors of the basket and the playpen were wide open, and the kittens were nowhere to be seen.
“Ella,” said Jasmine, “where are the kittens?”
“What?” said Ella vaguely, her eyes on the screen.
“Where did you put the kittens?”
“Nowhere. Why?”
“Oh no,” said Tom. “Manu and Ben must have sneaked in and taken them.”
Jasmine’s face blazed with fury. “I’ll kill them!”
Manu’s room was empty. Tom and Jasmine raced downstairs. Manu and Ben were sitting on the living-room sofa, watching cartoons.
“Where are the kittens?” said Jasmine, looking wildly around the room. “Where are they?”
The boys remained glued to the TV. Jasmine grabbed the remote and switched it off. Ben and Manu swung their heads round, their faces the picture of outrage.
“Hey!” shouted Manu. “What are you doing?”
“What have you done with the kittens?” yelled Jasmine.
“They’re here somewhere. We were playing with them. Give me the remote.”
“But they’re not here, are they? What have you done with them?”
“We didn’t do anything. They must have gone somewhere else.”
“You idiots!” yelled Jasmine. “They’re only eight weeks old. Anything could have happened to them!”
Tom was running around the room, lifting up cushions and looking under furniture. Then he turned to Jasmine, looking panic-stricken.
“What if they’ve gone in the dining room?” he said.
Jasmine stared at him for a second. Then they ran into the hall. The dining room door stood ajar. They pushed it open.
The first thing they saw was Holly and Mistletoe, chasing each other around the dining table. As Jasmine ran to grab them, Holly’s tail swiped the stem of a wine glass. It crashed against a candlestick and smashed into tiny pieces. Holly leapt off the table in fright and landed on Marmite, who was dozing on the carpet.
Marmite sprang up in alarm and tried to jump on to the table, but she misjudged the distance and ended up clinging to the edge of the white tablecloth with her claws. The cloth started slipping off the table, pulling glasses, tablemats and candlesticks with it, as Marmite struggled desperately to disentangle her claws from the fabric.
As Tom dashed over to free her, a wine glass rolled off the table and crashed to the floor. Marmite jerked back in shock, finally freed herself and sprang up into the Christmas tree. It wobbled and shook. Toffee jumped into the tree after her. They chased each other around the branches, sending baubles and decorations crashing to the floor. Jasmine and Tom tried to grab them, but they climbed up out of reach.
Then Jasmine spotted Mistletoe, perched on the very top branch. As Marmite ran towards him, Mistletoe leapt from the tree to the bookcase, sending all the Christmas cards toppling to the carpet. Meanwhile, Holly had discovered a roll of wrapping paper at the side of the room. Pushing at the tube, she managed in a few seconds to unroll the entire three metres. Ivy leapt on the end of the paper as it curled up, biting it and tearing it with her claws.
Toffee and Marmite were both at the top of the tree now. Marmite hissed at Toffee and lashed out with her paw. Jasmine and Tom looked on in helpless horror as Toffee sprang out of the tree and landed on the dresser, knocking over Mum’s vase of flowers. The water spilled on to Holly and Ivy and soaked their roll of wrapping paper. The drenched kittens howled in shock and started running madly around the room. Toffee shot out into the hall.
The door from the kitchen opened and Dad appeared, holding a bunch of carrots.
“What on earth is going on?” he shouted.
Spooked by the shouting, Marmite leapt from the topmost branch of the tree. At least, she tried to leap, but her paws got caught in the lights and the force of her attempt unbalanced the whole thing. The tree came crashing down on the dining table, smashing the remaining wine glasses and scattering pine needles and decorations all over the room. Marmite disentangled herself with a yowl of terror and fled. All three kittens shot from the room in different directions.
A terrible silence descended on the dining room. The only sound was the drip, drip, drip of water from the overturned vase. Jasmine didn’t dare look at her father.
The key turned in the front door. Mum’s car keys clattered on to the hall table. Mum appeared in the dining room doorway and her eyes widened in horror.
“What have you done?” she shrieked. “Jasmine Green, what have you done?”
When Jasmine confessed that she had brought the kittens in, her parents were angrier than she had ever seen them. They sent Tom off to find the kittens, and then they rounded on her.
“This is exactly why we told you not to bring those kittens indoors,” said Dad. “You were told again and again, and you completely disobeyed us.”
“We were going to tame them,” said Jasmine. “It was all Manu’s fault. He let them out. We were being responsible.”
“Responsible!” shouted Mum. “Responsible? What you did, Jasmine, is the exact opposite of responsible.”
“But—” Jasmine began.
“Don’t you dare argue back,” said Mum. “Look at the state of this place. Every one of those breakages is coming out of yours and Manu’s pocket money. And I was going to clean the bathroom after I’d
operated on the cats, and now I’m going to have to clean up this room instead. So you are going to clean the bathroom, and the downstairs toilet, and they had better be sparkling clean or you’ll do them again.”
“And then you can peel all the vegetables for dinner,” said Dad, “because I won’t have time to do it now. And those two boys can switch off that television and fill up the log baskets. There’ll be no more television for any of you today. I’ve got enough jobs to keep you all busy until you go to bed at six o’clock.”
“Six o’clock!” said Jasmine.
“You heard me,” said Dad.
“And in the morning,” said Mum, “you can write out an advertisement for Holly and we’ll find her a proper home.”
“No!” said Jasmine. “Please, Mum…”
“I won’t hear another word about it,” said Mum. “If you’re not responsible enough to listen to instructions, you’re certainly not responsible enough to have another cat. We’re advertising Holly tomorrow.”
The first people who phoned about the advertisement arranged to come and see Holly on Wednesday evening. Two more families were coming on Thursday.
Ivy and Mistletoe were back in the shed with their mother. In her heart of hearts, Jasmine had to admit they seemed happier outdoors. And they had all been neutered now, so they should have healthy lives.
But Holly wasn’t a feral kitten any more. She was tame and socialised, and she needed a home.
When the doorbell rang as the family was finishing dinner on Tuesday, Mum clapped her hand to her mouth. “Oh, blast, it’s those people. I completely forgot.”
“What people?” asked Jasmine.
“I bumped into one of the mums from your school this morning, and she said her daughter really wanted a kitten, and could I recommend any breeders. So I said why didn’t she come and look at Holly.”