10: OLIVER

 

   The four Mighty Mousers all came from very different homes, but together they were like four brothers. They sat together in the same kitten class at school, and generally all liked the same things, spent as much of their free time together as they could, and were all very frisky, as kittens ought to be. But Salem and Nathaniel and Jack grew rather worried for Oliver when Oliver's uncle Raymond Tibbles came to stay.

   Oliver's uncle was a bad cat -  the kind of cat who would never do another animal a good turn if he could harm it instead. He ate a lot, though Oliver's parents were very poor, and spent all his time when he was not eating telling anyone prepared to listen how clever he was.

   He also meddled in things that were nothing to do with him. Joshua Tibbles, Oliver's father, was out of work, because he had broken his leg in a road accident, and had never fully recovered. The Catsville council gave him a home to live in, and some money to buy food, but Ruth Tibbles, Oliver's mother, always seemed to be having fresh litters of kittens, and there was never quite enough to make ends meet, so he helped out at the Catsville squirrel race course. Oliver worked part-time as well, spending several evenings a week stacking shelves in a supermarket, and spent Saturday afternoons at the race course helping his father.

   Both knew a little basic squirrel, because they spent a good deal of time helping the squirrels shell nuts, and timing the squirrels over their racing wires - the squirrels raced each other along long wires strung between high poles. Joshua also kept a bag of bandages for damaged squirrels that fell off the wires, and a smart red and white striped flag for signalling squirrel winners.

   The squirrels, who were very gossippy little animals, often gave them good racing tips as a reward for their help, and they passed the tips on to a group of very sleek black cats who spent most of their waking hours at the race course.

   But Uncle Raymond began to interfere the moment he came to stay. He insisted on taking the bus with Oliver and his father to the race course, and picked their brains on everything they knew about the squirrels. He even tried talking to the squirrels from time to time, and offering them nuts, because he hoped they might give him tips as well. But the squirrels ignored him, because he never helped them shell nuts and knew no squirrel, and because they thought him very shifty.

   One day one of the squirrels gave Oliver and his father a particularly good tip. ‘He's my brother, he's an ace,’ he chattered. ‘Nobody thinks much of him, but he's going to wipe the wire with the other squirrels.’

   Uncle Raymond's ears pricked up as Oliver's father translated - for Joshua Tibbles always told his brother about possible squirrel winners, even though Uncle Raymond never gave him anything in return. Uncle Raymond rushed off, and Oliver saw him talk to one of the sleek black cats, and hand something over - though Uncle Raymond always told everyone that he was the poorest cat that could be, without a sardine to his name.

   However he must have had some luck that day, because two days later he was seen coming out of the most expensive barber in Catsville, with very well-brushed fur, and several neighbour cats told Oliver's father that he had begun spending lots of sardines at a Catsville nightclub.

    Joshua Tibbles mentioned it at the next race meeting. But Uncle Raymond flew into a temper, and sulked. However he also began paying something towards his keep after that, though he never gave Oliver's mother very much.

   He also began spending more and more of his time with the sleek black race course cats, and one day came back with a very greedy look on his face.

   ‘My friends want the squirrels in the next race to finish in a certain order,’ he told Oliver and his father.

   Joshua Tibbles looked uncomfortable. ‘They won't do it, Raymond,’ he miaowed. ‘They're racing squirrels, not circus animals.’

   Uncle Raymond's eyes narrowed. ‘It's very important,’ he said, with just the edge of a hiss in his voice. ‘My friends will give you a lot of money if you can fix it.’

   Joshua Tibbles hesitated. He was a good-natured cat, and never liked to say no. Then he nodded. ‘I'll try.’

   He began to squeak at a group of squirrels sitting on their haunches nibbling at nuts in a special cage that served as the race course enclosure. The squirrels listened for a moment, and then one began to squeak back angrily. A second joined in, and soon all the squirrels had dropped their nuts and were shouting at Oliver's father at the tops of their voices.

   Oliver's father looked at Uncle Raymond. ‘You see?’

   Uncle Raymond scowled. It was plain that he wanted to fix the race very badly indeed. He got to his feet and marched up to the cage, baring his teeth. ‘Listen, you stupid little furballs,’ he miaowed angrily. ‘Be grateful for the nuts we give you, and do what you are told. Otherwise I know a certain nightclub that will have squirrel pie on its menu tonight.’

   The squirrels stopped squeaking, and sat looking at him in an astonished silence. Then they all scooped up handfuls of nuts and began to fire them at him, forcing him to back away, and one shook a tiny paw at Oliver's father.

   ‘Bad man, him bad. Go away. No come back.’

   The squirrel spoke, or rather squeaked, in very broken cat. But its meaning was very clear.

   Uncle Raymond slunk off. Next morning his basket was empty, and Oliver's mother found that he had cleared out her larder, forcing her to beg at the Catsville town hall for some tinned kitten food. But his row with the squirrels caused much more serious trouble.

   The cats on the race course committee held an enquiry, and told Oliver and his father that they must stay away from the races until the squirrels forgave them. They were allowed to go on shelling nuts, in a back room on their own, but they were both barred from timing races, and the committee took away Joshua Tibbles' bag of bandages and red and white striped flag.

   Both Oliver and his father were heartbroken. They sat by themselves sadly shelling nuts, listening to all the cats outside cheering the squirrel races, and from time to time Joshua Tibbles brushed a silent tear from his whiskers.

   Then one day Oliver saw a very fat young squirrel with a very round tummy watching them from the doorway. The squirrel crept shyly towards the pile of shelled nuts, and licked his lips hopefully. ‘Can I have one or two?’, it chattered.

   Oliver held out a pawful, and the squirrel nibbled busily.

   Joshua Tibbles smiled. He liked all young animals, having so many kittens of his own, and believed none should ever go hungry. ‘Why aren't you watching the races?’, he chattered back.

   The young squirrel sighed. ‘I'm too fat,’ it replied, helping itself to another pawful of nuts. ‘I can't say no to nuts, so I fall off the wires all the time. I'm just too heavy for my own good.’

   Oliver eyed the squirrel's waistline, and understood perfectly. But he was much too polite to say anything, particularly as he knew just how touchy squirrels could be.

   Joshua Tibbles thought for a moment. ‘Why don't you go into training?’

    ‘Nobody will train me,’ the squirrel squeaked sadly, helping himself to yet more nuts. ‘All the racing squirrels tell me I should get a job in a circus, juggling nuts, throwing them into the air, and catching them in my mouth.’ He smiled to himself. ‘I suppose I might be rather good at that.’

   Oliver thought for a moment. He knew the supermarket where he worked part-time had put up wires across its delivery area to stop birds swooping down and carrying off packets of cat crunchies, and had ofte’ thought they looked very like squirrel racing wires. ‘How about letting me train you?’ he asked.

   The squirrel stuffed yet another pawful of nuts into its mouth. ‘Will you make me go on a diet?’ He looked a little nervous.

   ‘I'll train you to win races,’ Oliver replied. He had no idea how he was going to do it, but he felt it was the right thing to say.

   The squirrel picked up a fresh handful of nuts, and suddenly dropped them. ‘Will I be good?’ he squeaked excitedly.

   Oliver and his father both nodded together. ‘You'll be the best.’

   It was rather a rash promise to make, but once they made it, they felt bound by it. So Oliver told the three other Mighty Mousers, and every evening the fat young squirrel, who was called Wayne, practised running along the supermarket wires, whilst the Mighty Mousers ran along underneath, pushing supermarket trolleys padded with paper towels, to catch him if he fell, whilst Oliver's father kept his bandages ready.

   It was all fairly easy at first, because Wayne was rather slow, and kept on falling off, and they just had to be in the right place at the right time. But then he began to speed up, and they found themselves having to run faster and faster, and supermarket trolleys are not really built for racing.

   For a while Wayne seemed to collect nothing but bumps and bruises, and began rather to lose heart, because squirrels are not the most persistent of animals. But the Mighty Mousers kept pushing, and Oliver's father bandaged him up from time to time, and Roxanne - who had joined them to time Wayne's runs and keep note of his weight - announced proudly one day that he had definitely now grown into a much slimmer and faster young squirrel.

   Wayne beamed at the news, and from that day on he never fell off his wire again. Soon he was fast enough to match the best squirrels Joshua Tibbles had ever timed, racing along the supermarket wires like a small bolt of lightning, and his tummy had all quite melted away.

   One day Oliver's father called a meeting. ‘I think it's time for Wayne to race the other squirrels,’ he miaowed.

   Wayne scratched himself nervously, and looked around to see if there were any nuts in sight.

   ‘We'll wrap you up in a blanket and keep you a secret until the race starts,’ Oliver told him. ‘Then you'll be able to give all the other squirrels the biggest surprise of their lives.’

   Race day came, and the four Mighty Mousers were all very nervous. Wayne chattered and chattered until Oliver thought he would drive them all quite mad, and Oliver's father barely had the courage to knock at the door of the race committee office.

   ‘I've come to ask if the squirrels will let me have my striped flag back,’ he miaowed.

   The race committee cats smiled sympathetically. They knew that Joshua Tibbles was a good cat, and that Raymond Tibbles had run away, and the squirrels had told them that he could have his flag back on condition that his brother never, ever came near them again.

   Oliver's father sighed with relief, and then looked at the race committee very proudly. ‘I want to enter Wayne for the big race as well.’

   The cats on the race committee all burst out laughing. ‘Wayne?’ chortled the committee chairman, who was a very important cat indeed. ‘Do you mean fat Wayne?’

   Oliver's father nodded.

   The committee chairman put his paws to his head as if he could not believe his ears. ‘You'll have to pay twenty sardines to have him listed as a runner,’ he miaowed when he had recovered his breath. ‘You must have money to burn.’

   Joshua Tibbles handed over two ten sardine notes that he and Oliver had saved from their wages. It was supposed to be Christmas money, but Oliver's mother had agreed to let it be used to enter Wayne for the big race, and had come with all her kittens to watch the fun, whilst Roxanne and the other three Mighty Mousers had taken all their pocket money savings to back Wayne as well.

   Oliver led Wayne up to his wire. All the other squirrels watched, and fell about laughing, because he was still wrapped in a big blanket, and still looked very tubby. But they all caught their breath in surprise when Oliver carefully packed the blanket away, and the sleek black cats began to look very jumpy.

   The race was thrilling. Wayne got off to a good start, and stayed a whisker ahead of the other squirrels until near half way. Then he slipped, and nearly lost his grip, but found it again as quick as a flash, just as another squirrel was about to pass him him, and raced away to finish a clear tail ahead of his nearest rival.

   The four Mighty Mousers, Roxanne, Oliver's mother and father, and all Oliver's brothers and sisters cheered and cheered and cheered. The sleek black cats had to pay them a lot of money, and went home that night with their fur all ruffled.

   The race committee chairman presented Wayne with a silver cup, and made a little speech, and then gave him a cheque for a very large amount indeed. But Wayne called Oliver up to stand beside him.

   ‘This is my trainer, and my friend,’ he said in his best cat - because he had learned to miaow and purr quite well whilst recovering from his bumps and bruises in the supermarket carpark. ‘Oliver and I are partners, and we are sharing everything we win.’

   Oliver beamed. He had never been so happy in his life, and he knew that from now on his family would never need to worry about money again.