One autumn day Roxanne and Salem were strolling down the main shopping street in Catsville on their way home from school discussing what to buy Roxanne's mother for her birthday.
‘I think she'd like a new mixer,’ said Salem, who was a practical cat, and also very fond of Roxanne's mother's catcakes.
Roxanne wrinkled up her nose. ‘That's much too sensible,’ she miaowed. ‘I think she'd much rather have something pretty, like a bright new ribbon to wear around her neck.’ Roxanne was particularly fond of pink ribbons, and her own were growing just a little elderly.
Just then a small black kitten, very thin and hungry-looking, ran in front of them, holding out a thin, scrawny paw. ‘Please, miss, please, sir, can I have some money to buy something to eat?’
Roxanne and Salem both stopped. Catsville had some poor cats, and even some bad cats, but it was the first time either of them had ever seen a starving kitten, because all the cat schools provided free fish and milk. Besides, it was term time, and small kittens were supposed to stay in after school to practise their pouncing.
‘Why aren't you diving and dancing?’ Roxanne asked in her sternest school prefect growl, using cat school slang.
‘Don't go no school.’ The kitten looked fierce and began to back away. It spoke in standard cat, but with a very strong accent, as if it came from quite a long way away.
Roxanne and Salem both stared at it in amazement. All kittens went to school, even the naughty ones. It was part of a kitten's basic upbringing, to ensure that they learned clashing and slashing and other important self-defence exercises, along with how to beg politely, stalk and purr and pounce and preen, and the gentle art of not dripping milk from the tips of their whiskers.
Salem frowned. ‘Whyever not?’
The little black kitten turned to run. ‘Kittenmaster don't allow.’ Then it was gone, quick as a small black flash.
Roxanne and Salem walked on, whisker to whisker, and soon forgot. They stopped to admire a display window filled with shiny new mixers and cooker and can openers, and stood purring together for a moment outside a shop selling a whole rainbow of ribbons, and then began to think of getting home for their tea, because it had been a long time since dinner, and windowshopping always gives growing kittens a healthy appetite.
They were just turning back when they heard a dreadful noise of banging and shouting. ‘Stop, thief! Stop! Bring back my bag!’
A rather fat lady cat was standing in a shop doorway, screeching angrily, and a small black kitten was racing towards them gripping a handbag between its teeth.
Salem gathered himself in as the kitten came racing along the pavement, his whiskers stiff with concentration. It was plain that the kitten was too busy escaping to notice him. He tensed himself, his tail swishing a little, and launched himself like a rocket just as the kitten was about to pass him.
There was a big thud of fur on fur, a great deal of spitting and scratching and rolling around, and then Salem was sitting on top of the kitten, holding it nose down on the pavement with one paw, and gripping the fat lady cat's handbag with another.
The kitten struggled furiously, and used bad language to say some very naughty things indeed, until Salem dropped the handbag and used his free front paw to box it soundly around its ears. Then it began to cry.
‘Please don't hurt me any more.’ It had to puff a bit, because Salem was a big kitten for his age, and rather heavy.
‘You're a nasty little thief.’ Salem boxed the kitten's ears again. ‘I'm going to take you to the cat police station, and I hope they lock you up and throw away the key.’
The fat lady cat joined them, and picked up her bag. She began counting the money in her purse, and then counted it again, just to be sure. ‘Well,’ she miaowed, in a very angry voice. ‘I hope they give it a good spanking, because it's certainly a very wicked kitten.’
The little black kitten hissed at her. ‘Nobody can spank me, it ain't allowed no more.’
Salem boxed the kitten's ears again. ‘Well, I can, so shut up.’
The kitten winced. ‘I'll tell on you.’ It gave Salem a most disagreeable look as it spoke, but then quickly lowered its whiskers in submission as he raised his paw again.
Five minutes later Salem was marching the kitten up the steps of the cat police station, followed by Roxanne and the fat black lady cat.
The cat policeman on duty shook his head sadly as Salem pushed the kitten towards him. ‘Sorry, sir, you must let him go.’
Salem began to bristle a little. Roxanne frowned, and the fat black lady cat made herself comfortable, furling her tail neatly behind her.
The kitten shook itself free. ‘He boxed my ears.’
The cat policeman scowled. ‘Got any witnesses?’ The black kitten looked at Salem, Roxanne and the fat black lady cat in turn, but each ignored him. The cat policeman glowered and pointed towards the door. ‘Out, and don't come back.’
Then he sighed. ‘I suppose he tried to steal a bag?’
The fat black lady cat began to miaouw excitedly, but the cat policeman raised a warning paw as she began to describe Salem's tremendous rescue pounce.
‘I'm sure it wasn't a violent pounce,’ he said in a miaouw full of meaning.
The fat black lady cat opened her mouth to reply, and then thought better of it.
‘Nobody is allowed to smack young kittens except their own parents.’ The cat policeman looked very official. He was a big black cat with a fierce expression, very smart in his dark blue uniform with silver buttons.
Then he sighed again. ‘We've been having no end of trouble. There's a really bad cat living in a deserted foxhole in the park. He's called the Kittenmaster, and he has this gang of kittens. He sends them out to steal, and they grab everything they can - they're a real menace.’
The fat black lady cat miaouwed angrily. ‘Then lock them all up.’
‘We can't, madam.’ The cat policeman shook his head. ‘We can only take naughty young kittens back to their parents - it's up to them to keep them in order, we'd be in real trouble if we boxed their ears or anything like that.’
Roxanne looked quickly at Salem, but Salem was looking very pointedly out of the window. Only a faint twitch at the tip of his tail showed that he was keeping his feelings under very tight control.
‘They don't have any parents, so we have to let them go.’
Roxanne licked a paw thoughtfully. ‘Can't you arrest the Kittenmaster?’
‘He never does anything wrong, miss.’ The cat policeman stretched. It was time for his afternoon saucer of milk, and he felt he had said enough. ‘We'd have to find some of his kittens prepared to speak out against him, but they are all much too afraid, so our paws are tied.’
Salem and Roxanne left the cat police station in a very thoughtful mood. ‘We must make a plan,’ Roxanne murmured in the voice she kept for discussing really tricky problems. ‘We must find some of these kittens, and persuade them that they will enjoy going to school and living proper lives very much better than sleeping in deserted foxholes.’
Salem twitched his tail doubtfully. He was still in a bad mood, and he knew in his own mind that nothing in the world would ever stop him boxing the ears of naughty kittens.
Just then a very hungry-looking little tabby stepped out of a doorway. ‘Please miss, please, sir. I'm starving, and I need some money to buy food.’
Roxanne looked at Salem in a meaningful sort of way, and Salem pounced, grabbing the tabby's tail. It let out a most piteous wail, and a second tabby kitten came out of the doorway.
‘Don't hurt him, please, sir, don't hurt him.’
Salem looked fierce. ‘Why not?’ He was in just the right mood for boxing kittens' ears.
‘Because we don't mean no harm, sir.’ The second tabby kitten sniffled, and then began to weep softly. It was really very scrawny, no more than a few weeks old. ‘The Kittenmaster took us away from our home, and he won't give us anything to eat unless we bring him money.’
Roxanne reached into her fur for her handkerchief and wiped the kitten's nose. ‘Why don't you tell the police you were kidnapped?’
‘They just shoo us away, miss.’
Roxanne searched in her fur again for her purse. ‘Come and have some sardines.’
The two tabby kittens followed them doubtfully down the street until they reached a cafe.
The cafe was bright, and cheerful, and smelled comfortingly of sardines, and tuna, and lightly cooked liver and kidneys. But the cat behind the counter made a face as she watched them sit at a table, wrinkling up her whiskers in disapproval.
‘I hope those aren't Kittenmaster kittens,’ she mewed sharply. ‘They steal things.’
Roxanne looked fierce. ‘They're rescued kittens, and they need some food.’
The two tabby kittens ate a sardine sandwich each, and then a small helping of chopped kidneys apiece, and both drank large saucers of milk whilst Roxanne and Salem watched and nibbled on fish-flavoured oatmeal biscuits to keep them company. Then the larger of the two tabby kittens took a deep breath.
‘That was scrumptious, the best meal we've eaten in ages.’
The second tabby kitten smiled blissfully, almost too full to speak.
They were both quiet for a moment, digesting in comfort. Then the larger kitten explained that they had been kidnapped whilst playing in a patch of long grass near their home.
‘A van stopped, and a big black cat offered us each a toy mouse. Then he grabbed us and shoved us in a sack when we began to play,’ he explained. ‘He took us to his cave, and told us he would turn us into fur gloves if we disobeyed him.’
Roxanne looked shocked. ‘Why don't you run away?’
‘He's got other bad cats to help him. They watch us all the time.’
The second kitten looked sad. ‘We don't know our way home.’
Roxanne thought for a moment, and then looked at Salem. ‘Can the Mighty Mousers handle this?’
Salem looked fierce, and his tail twitched aggressively several times. ‘We'll box them to bits.’
Salem and Roxanne took the two tabby kittens to Salem's home. Soon word had spread all round Catsville, and a crowd of angry kittens massed on a little green behind his house. Salem split them into two groups, with himself in charge of the male kittens, and Roxanne commanding the girls, and they marched off to the park.
They found the deserted foxhole quite easily, but it was guarded by two fierce black cats that hissed at them most ferociously, and they saw more fierce black cats waiting just inside the entrance.
Salem marched up to them, his tail straight and proud behind him. ‘We've come to rescue your slave kittens,’ he said in a commanding voice.
One of the fierce black cats arched its back and bared its claws. ‘Go away. I'm the Kittenmaster, and I can tell you, we don't have no slave kittens,’ it growled. It was a fearsome animal, perhaps three times as big as Salem, with great chunks missing out of its ears showing that it had been in many, many battles.
Two more cats came out of the foxhole and positioned themselves at its side. One of them took a menacing step towards Salem. ‘Push off, fleabite,’ it said rudely.
Salem stood his ground.
‘Oh, you want a scrap, do you?’ growled the Kittenmaster, baring his teeth. He tensed himself, gathering himself in, and then launched himself at Salem in a tremendous leap that knocked our brave kitten quite flat on the ground.
He was just about to sink his claws into Salem's nose when Roxanne and two other girl kittens rushed forward to grab at Salem's back legs and tail and haul him to safety.
Roxanne gently patted at the scratches on Salem's nose with her handkerchief. ‘You'll have to leave it’, she said softly. ‘They're much too big and fierce for us.’
Just then a kitten came rushing up, looking very pleased with itself. ‘We met a rabbit and he told us about a secret entrance,’ it whispered. ‘We've been rescuing kittens while you've been keeping these terrors busy. We also sent a message to the police station, telling them we had evidence of kittennapping.’
Salem and Roxanne heard the siren of an approaching cat police car as he finished speaking. The cat police arrived in force, and the bad cats proved no match for them - soon they were all handcuffed together, ready to be taken to the Catsville jail.
The Kittenmaster's defeat was the main story on cat television news that night, and filled the whole of the front page of the Catsville Gazette next day. The Catsville council paid for their bus tickets to go home, and Roxanne's father gave each of them a little hamper of sardines and dry catfood for the journey.
The two little tabby kittens rescued by Roxanne were quite sad to leave. But their parents had missed them dreadfully, and they had brothers and sisters waiting to give them a big homecoming party. So they blew their noses hard at the bus station, whilst Roxanne brushed away a celebration tear, and promised to come back one day for a visit, when they had caught up on their school studies.
Then Salem and all the kittens cheered and cheered as the buses drove off, past a prison van carrying a very grumpy looking Kittenmaster, who hissed a great deal, and tried to bare his claws at them. But the Kittenmaster was in clawcuffs, which rather cramped his style, and the rescued kittens, who were of course now no longer afraid, all stuck out their little pink tongues at him. This might not seem a very well brought up thing to do, but the rescued kittens had suffered a great deal, so it was perhaps understandable.
The Kittenmaster and his bad cats were all locked up, until they learned the wickedness of their ways, and only let out again when they promised to be good cats for the rest of their lives. But they all left Catsville soon after their release, so we shall never know whether they kept their promises.