8: JEMIMA PUSSYKINS

 

   Catsville kittens generally behaved themselves very well when they were at school, keeping quiet during classes, and only speaking when told. But some were sometimes rather naughty, sticking their tongues out at teachers when they thought the teachers were not looking, or playing with odd bits of string when they should have been paying attention, and four of the very youngest were real pests.

   Mrs. Jemima Pussykins, who taught the youngest kittens, found it a real struggle to keep the four under control one hot summer afternoon. They ran up and down the classroom chasing a ball of paper during a pouncing class - and pouncing is something that demands complete quiet and close attention. Then Warren, who was the worst of the four, ran into a kitten, just as it was getting ready to spring, and jumped on Jemima's tail, just as she was showing the kittens how to twitch the tip without waving too much of a flag.

   ‘I thought you were pretending to be a mouse,’ he said rudely as she began to scold him. The three other troublesome kittens burst into a fit of giggles. ‘Teacher is a mouse, mouse, mouse, teacher is a mouse,’ they chorussed. The rest of the kittens watched disapprovingly, because they were well-behaved, but a couple laughed behind their paws.

   Jemima picked Warren up by the scruff of his neck and shook him. He struggled and used some very rude words that he must have learned from his parents, who were a pair of very rough, tough cats. Then he lashed out with a front paw, and dealt her a nasty scratch across her nose.

   It was too much. Jemima Pussykins was normally a very good-natured cat, and quite one of the most kind-hearted souls in Catsville, but the scratch hurt. She drew herself up to her full height, raised her front paws, and let loose with a spell that she had just learned in a night school magic class. (She was coming up to her retirement, and learning magic so that she could help out at the Catsville home for old age pussies by performing the odd party trick).

   Warren gulped, and froze. Jemima smiled. She had only cast a temporary spell, strong enough to put Warren on ice for a couple of minutes, before he thawed again. But she reckoned a cold nip would keep him in good order, at least for the rest of the day. She also noticed with quiet satisfaction that the three other troublesome kittens now looked very attentive, and that they were sitting up straight with their front paws neatly together. It was plain that a good old-fashioned scolding could still work wonders.

   She went back to showing her class a particularly tricky stalking routine, for creeping through long grass without being noticed. She crept, and the whole class crept - though one rather clumsy fat kitten looked more as if it was wobbling than slinking. Then she eyed Warren, who was still frozen in mid-gulp.

   ‘Come on, now, Warren. Snap out of it.’

   Nothing happened. Warren did not move a muscle, not a single twitch. Jemima walked over to him and tapped him on the nose, thinking he must be playing the fool again. But her paw bounced off, for he was still frozen solid.

   She rapped again, gently this time, because now she felt a little nervous. She suddenly had a dreadful feeling that she might have cast a superspell that she was not supposed to learn until her next magic lesson, and realised with a horrid sinking feeling that she had only taken it in quickly, and failed to memorise any matching anti-spell.

   Her paw bounced off again, and she began to fluster. She sat on her hind legs again and cast an ordinary warm-up, then a second, then a third. Nothing happened, though for a moment she thought she saw one of Warren's whiskers quiver.

   The bell rang for the end of school, and Warren was still as cold as a grave. Jemima dismissed her class, and set off for the head teacher's office. She knew that she was in an awful lot of trouble, because the head teacher was a young cat who strongly disapproved of teachers shaking kittens by the scruff of their necks, let alone turning them to ice. But she thought she might be able to talk her round, and then call Merlin - the elderly cat who taught magic at night school - and sort everything out.

   However Lucy Prettypaws, the head teacher, was in a very bad mood indeed. A gang of mice had broken into the school storage cupboards and chewed their way through a whole lot of electric wiring, putting the school computer out of action.

   She was having to fill in a batch of complicated school forms with her very own paw, and the hot weather was giving her a headache. She wished she was curled up in a cool dark corner and snoozing.

   She frowned very grumpily as Jemima explained what she had done. ‘Thaw Warren out immediately,’ she ordered. ‘I shall have a word with Merlin myself about this. I think he's quite wrong to teach such things.’ Then she picked up her telephone, and refused to speak to Jemima any more.

   Jemima felt dreadful. She stayed at the school until she saw Merlin arrive in a van painted all over with stars and crescent moons, and then stayed a bit longer, to see him come out of the youngest kitten's classroom leading a very bedraggled looking Warren by the paw.

   She was on the point of going over to Warren to give him a kiss, just to show that she had not really meant to harm him, when a great big truck roared through the school gates to brake in a cloud of dust, and two massive great cats tumbled out.

   Both were very angry, and Jemima ran for her life.

   ‘Warren! Where's my Warren!’ roared one of the massive cats, a huge female tabby with paws the size of fish heads.

   ‘Warren! What have they done to you, Warren?’ roared the other cat, a huge black tom with claws as sharp as razors.

   They swept Warren away from Merlin, and began hissing and spitting as Warren told them what had happened, making out that Jemima had treated him really cruelly. Next minute they were hammering on Lucy's school office door.

   Lucy tried to greet them politely, but Warren's parents would have none of it.

   ‘You oughtn't to have let Old Ma Pussykins treat Warren that way,’ screeched Warren's mother, whose proper name was Mrs. Catmint Ratcatcher, but who was also known all along the street where she lived as 'Catcall' because of the way she always yowled at the top of her voice, particularly when she was worked up, which was often.

   We'll get the law on you,’ shouted Warren's father, Mr. Daniel Ratcatcher, generally better known as 'Bruiser', because he was always getting into fights.

   ‘Calm down, please.’ Lucy put her paws to her head. Her headache was getting worse and worse.

    ‘We want a school investigation, by the governors,’ Catcall yowled.

   ‘We're going to the police station,’ Bruiser thundered. And off they hurtled.

   The sergeant in charge at the Catsville police station knew both the Ratcatchers and did not like them very much. But he listened politely as they complained, and then made Warren stand up and sit down a couple of times.

   ‘He seems all right to me,’ he said sourly, as Warren broke loose from his mother to chase a passing fly.

   ‘The poor darling's in shock. He needs counselling,’ Catcall replied sharply, grabbing Warren and cuffing him soundly.

   ‘That Old Ma Pussykins is past it. She shouldn't be teaching anymore,’ echoed Bruiser.

   The police sergeant shrugged, and swished his tail. ‘You'll have to talk to Mrs. Prettypaws about that.’

   He thought it was a good way of getting rid of the Ratcatchers. But he was wrong, for both Catcall and Bruiser insisted on filling in complaint forms before they left the police station, and were still shouting and swearing when they drove off home.

   Next day Jemima turned up at school early. She felt a little nervous, because she knew the Ratcatchers would do their level best to make trouble for her. But she hoped that Lucy might smooth things over.

   She was out of luck. She found Catcall and Bruiser waiting on the school steps with Warren between them, waiting for Lucy to unlock the door, and both looked very fierce. Lucy looked as if she had been crying.

   She shook her head as Jemima made to enter the school building. ‘I'm sorry, Jemima. I'm going to have to take the youngest kittens from now on.’

   Catcall and Bruiser both grinned nasty grins.

   Jemima hesitated. She had been teaching kittens all her life - she had even taught Catcall and Bruiser in her time, and given them both very severe scoldings for exceptional naughtiness. But she had never been told to give up her class. A small tear began to trickle down her whiskers. ‘What shall I do?’

   ‘Stay away from our Warren,’ scowled Catcall, arching her back in a threatening way. ‘Go home,’ Bruiser snarled, flexing his claws.

   So Jemima went home, and wept and wept, and nearly missed her nightschool class in magic. Next day she wept even more, because the postpuss brought her a letter telling her that she was being given early retirement, and that meant she was finished as a teacher. The good kittens, and even some of the naughty ones, tried to cheer her up by pooling their pocket money and bringing her a basket packed with tins of tuna and sardines and cat crunchies. But the basket only made her cry even harder, and her tail dragged along the ground in the saddest possible way.

   The parents of all the good kittens were shocked, and appealed to Catcall and Bruiser to withdraw their complaint. Salem's father promised Bruiser a job driving a Catsville refuse disposal truck, and Roxanne's father promised free catfood for a month. But Bruiser told them he was not a cat to be bribed, unless of course they made him head of the Catsville refuse disposal department and threw in free catfood for a year, or possibly even a couple of years, made Catcall his secretary, and promised Warren a job too, for when he left school.

   Meanwhile Warren grew into more and more of a pest. He made faces at Lucy whenever she told him off, and flatly refused to take part in lessons he disliked. One morning he pulled Roxanne's tail as she was practising purring, and spat at Salem when he came to her rescue. Salem pounced on him hard, and boxed his ears unmercifully.

   Warren began to scream. ‘I'm going to tell my dad,’ he howled, and  rushed out of the school building as fast as his legs could carry him.

   Salem went back to practising purring. But he stopped short as he heard Warren's father storming up the school drive.

   Bruiser sounded very angry. ‘Where's that young whippersnapper that's been hurting my kitten?’ he roared in a very fierce voice.

   Catcall came hard on his heels, yowling a kind of chorus. ‘Beat him up, Bruiser, flatten him.’

   The kittens barred their classroom door. But Bruiser was too big and strong for them. He smashed the door flat, and flexed his claws as the kittens quivered in a corner of the classroom.

   Lucy Prettypaws positioned herself in front of them. She was only a small cat, but she arched her back and hissed fiercely. ‘Get out of here, Mr. Ratcatcher.’

   Bruiser ignored her. He could see Salem hiding behind her, and he wanted blood. He swept Lucy to one side with one blow of a great meaty paw, and pounced. But it was some time since he had practised pouncing, and Salem was very quick on his paws. He missed, and Lucy grabbed his tail. But she was only a little cat, and Bruiser sent her flying.

   The kittens watched in horror, and several began to cry. Salem jumped to one side to avoid a fresh blow, and found himself next to Roxanne. ‘Go and fetch Merlin,’ he whispered. ‘He's our only hope.’

   Roxanne began to cry. ‘He went on holiday this morning,’ she sobbed. ‘He's gone to a magicians' convention, and he won't be back for a fortnight.’

   Salem jumped again. Bruiser was now thumping about all over the place like a mad thing, and Catcall was egging him on.

   ‘Then fetch Jemima,’ he whispered. ‘Otherwise he'll flatten us all.’

   Roxanne rushed off. Jemima was in her garden, hanging out her washing. She listened to Roxanne with growing alarm, but she was also plainly doubtful.

   ‘I'm not sure I'm allowed back into the school,’ she said slowly.

   Roxanne tugged at her paw. She had tears in her eyes. ‘Please come, Mrs. Jemima, please. We're your kittens, and we need you.’

   Jemima thought for a moment, and then dropped her washing basket. ‘I'll come, of course I'll come.’ She began to follow Roxanne, who had raced off ahead of her, and whispered to herself: ‘I only hope I get there in time.’

   She reached the kittens' classroom just as Bruiser caught Salem by the tail and was preparing to swing him into the air.

   ‘Bruiser!’ she shouted in her most schoolmistressy voice. Bruiser was so taken aback that he let go of Salem's tail, and Salem jumped clear.

   ‘It's Old Ma Pussykins,’ yowled Catcall. ‘Mangle her!’

   Bruiser snarled at Jemima, and gathered himself together for a really massive pounce. But he was just a fraction too slow. Jemima raised herself on her two back legs, levelled her two front paws, and let out the biggest spell she had ever cast in her life.

   Bruiser froze. Catcall leaped at Jemima with her claws bared, but Jemima froze her too, and then Warren for good measure, together with a couple of good kittens who were unfortunate enough to be standing in the way.

   She then quickly unfroze the two good kittens, who became the envy of the whole class. But she refused to unspell the Ratcatchers, and it took the Catsville fire brigade two whole days to thaw them out.

   The cat police were waiting as the last frosts melted off Bruiser and Catcall's ears.

   ‘You two are being charged with assault and battery,’ the cat police sergeant said in his most official voice. All the kittens cheered, and he looked down his whiskers at them disapprovingly, because he was in a very serious mood. ‘We're going to lock you up.’

   ‘Who's going to look after me?’ whimpered Warren, who was no longer a big fierce kitten, but a very sorry little moggy indeed.

   Jemima stepped forward. ‘You can come and stay with me, and learn some manners,’ she miaouwed. But she did not look as fierce as she sounded, and soon Warren was one of the best behaved kittens in his class. She also took in a couple of orphan kittens soon afterwards, and brought them up to have very good manners as well.

   Bruiser and Catcall were locked up for a week. They were then let out again. But they both had to promise to be good cats, and never make trouble again, and - by and large - they kept their word.