18: OLD MOTHER GROWLER

 

   Lucy Prettypaws, the headmistress of the Catsville kitten school, firmly believed in kittens doing good deeds. Kittens in their last term at school were expected to held elderly cats across roads, or go out shopping for those too weak on their paws to walk very far, fill meal bowls for old cats who could not see very well, and generally dust around with their tails. She gave little gold stars to kittens who did really good deeds, and they were allowed to wear their stars on little chains around their necks in class.

   All the well-behaved kittens worked hard to collect gold stars, and there was quite a race to be best kitten of all. Fluffy surprised everyone by scrubbing the floor in one elderly tabby's home, whilst Nathaniel carried a bucket of water every morning, and another every night, for an old cat living in a house without a water supply.

   (There were also one or two naughty kittens in the class who mocked at doing good deeds, and miaowed that they didn't care a sardine for little gold stars. But Miss Prettypaws lined them up in front of the class, and lectured them very severely, telling them she would not take them on an end of term treat, and they quickly learned to behave themselves properly).

   One day the Mighty Mousers were stretched out by the edge of the river running through the Catsville park, trying to think up more good deeds, when Roxanne suddenly scratched her whiskers - something she always did when she had a bright idea - and said: ‘I'm going to help Old Mother Growler.’

   The five other Mighty Mousers all groaned. Old Mother Growler was a very badtempered old cat who lived in a ramshackle little house right on the edge of the woods outside Catsville. Some cats told their kittens that she was an old witch, capable of turning them into frogs and toads if they bothered her, others said she was just very crotchety because she had never had any kittens of her own.

   Most of the good kittens in the last term of kitten school had tried to do good deeds for her, because she hobbled around on a stick, and they were sure she found shopping hard work. But she had always chased them away.

   However Roxanne was a very determined little kitten, and she never took no for an answer when she had made up her mind. She had already tried helping Old Mother Growler once, a couple of weeks previously, and had been chased away - and being chased away had bothered her. Now she was determined to try again, and to succeed where every other kitten had failed. So she got to her paws, lazily stretched her front legs and her back legs, yawned, arched her back, and looked down on the five other Mighty Mousers scornfully.

   ‘I shall be very polite, and very charming, and this time I won't take no for an answer, she miaowed. ‘I'll ask her to tell me all her troubles, and she will be a bit suspicious again at first, but then she will realise that I really mean well, and she will let me do her shopping for her, and she'll give me a saucer of milk as a token of her gratitude.’

   Fluffy twitched her whiskers. Roxanne was her very best friend, but she knew that no other kitten could ever hope to be half so charming as she was, and she had twice tried talking to Old Mother Growler, only to be hissed at quite horribly.

   Salem sighed. He was in love with Roxanne, and he knew she would be the only cat for him when they stopped being kittens and grew up. But sometimes he found her hopes and daydreams a little farfetched.

   The four other Mighty Mousers yawned, curled their tails around their noses, and settled down for four little naps. They had all tried Old Mother Growler at one time or another, and knew Roxanne was planning to attempt the impossible.

   Roxanne trotted home to brush her fur, lined her shopping basket with a clean white cloth, and borrowed a tin of sardines from her mother's larder. Then she set out. The path to Old Mother Growler's cottage was hemmed in close on both sides with brambles and high bushes, and was really quite intimidating, but she pressed on, pushing the brambles aside with her basket, bravely ignoring strange scrabblings and scufflings that seemed to come from all round her.

   A little heap of twigs smouldered in a small grassy space just in front of the cottage, and she saw what looked like a heap of rather dull and dusty fur just beyond it.

   Roxanne paused, in case the heap of fur turned out to be a sleeping cat, but it showed no sign of life, so she skirted round it and walked up to the cottage door.

   She was just lifting her paw to rap on the door when she heard an angry  hiss behind her. She jumped.

   ‘Are you another brat come to spy on me?’ The hissing voice was rusty, as if not accustomed to speaking very often.

   Roxanne turned slowly. She knew Old Mother Growler had a tendency to lash out when taken by surprise, and she had no wish to be scratched on her nose, or lose a chunk of one of her pretty little ears.

   She found herself looking into a pair of very dull eyes, set in a face that had once been black, but was now more of a dirty grey colour, with grubby white whiskers, and grubby white flecks dotting its cheeks and chest.

   She reached cautiously into her shopping basket and took out the sardines. ‘I've brought you a present.’

   Old Mother Growler reached out a scrawny paw to touch the tin. It was plain that she could not see very well, and she was leaning heavily on her stick. In fact she seemed generally very much older and weaker than the last time Roxanne had offered to help her. She held the tin up to her nose to sniff at it, and then made a face. ‘Why?’

   Roxanne's whiskers twitched ever so slightly. She thought Old Mother Growler was being pretty rude, but then she was always rude, and she knew she must be patient. ‘I thought you might like a sardine for tea.’

   Old Mother Growler sniffed again, and dropped the tin back into Roxanne's basket. ‘Ain't got no tin opener.’

   Roxanne took a deep breath. She had a feeling that she was making a little, just a very little progress, for in the past Old Mother Growler would probably have simply tossed the sardines away. She smiled her sweetest smile. ‘I can bring one, if you like.’

   ‘Don't bother.’ Old Mother Growler struggled to lift herself on her stick, arching her back. Her voice grew even more rusty, and suddenly she was the same grumpy old cat that Roxanne remembered from her previous visits. ‘I don't want none of you young cats coming round here spying on me. Be off with you.’

   She hissed again, and tried to wave her stick, but the effort was too much for her, and she stood, leaning on the stick and panting.

   Roxanne pretended not to hear, and slowly laid the tin of sardines on the grass. ‘I'll come back tomorrow, at the same time,’ she miaowed softly, and with that she began to walk slowly back along the path through the brambles, half expecting at any moment to feel a sharp old claw in her back. But nothing happened, and she trotted home thoughtfully to have a chat with her mother, who always knew how to smooth bad tempers and ruffled feelings.

   Her mother listened, and smiled. ‘I think you will just have to keep on trying,’ she purred. ‘I'll bake you a little catcake for her, she might like that, and you might take some sachets of moist catfood, and a small carton of milk, and a couple of nice little catfood dishes, and a tin opener of course, and perhaps a little catmint pillow, to make her dream pleasant dreams. That might cheer her up a bit.’

   Next day Roxanne made her way back along the narrow overgrown path, and now the scrabblings and scufflings in the brambles seemed much less alarming. She reached Old Mother Growler's cottage and paused. Her tin of sardines still lay where she had left it, the little fire had long since died, and there was no sign of any kind of life. She laid her basket carefully on the grass, and prowled round the cottage, whiskers on the alert, but she could not see, hear, nor smell anything catlike at all.

   She sat down and thought to herself for a moment. Then she prowled round a second time, but nothing stirred. There was only one thing to do, and she decided to take a very brave step indeed. She crept up to the door of the cottage - which was really just a kind of large hutch made of wood, roughly thatched with straw - and crept inside.

   It was very dark inside, and rather smelly, and it took her a few moments to get her bearings. But then she made out a heap of straw in one corner, and a couple of empty old saucers, and what looked like a dirty old rug draped across the straw.

   Roxanne crept closer, and the rug stirred weakly. ‘Go away,’ it croaked, and it sounded very weak indeed.

   Roxanne gently put out her paw, and stroked the rug. ‘I've brought you some milk,’ she said softly. She crept back out of the cottage to fetch her basket, opened the small carton of milk, and poured some into one of the catfood dishes she had brought with her. Then, very gently, she carefully pushed the dish towards the part of the rug that had croaked.

   The rug stirred weakly, and Old Mother Growler's whiskers emerged, followed by her nose. Roxanne pushed the dish closer, and a pink tongue lapped at the dish cautiously. Roxanne opened one of the sachets of moist catfood and carefully emptied it into the second dish, but Old Mother Growler's head flopped back on the straw.

   ‘I'm too weak, my dear.’ Her croak had changed. Her voice was still hoarse, but now it had lost its bad temper and was just the voice of a sad old cat.

   Roxanne purred gently. ‘I'll have to feed you,’ she miaowed softly, and took a small lump of moist catfood on her paw, putting it to Old Mother Growler's mouth.

   She found it quite hard work, because a lot of the moist catfood lost itself in the straw. But Roxanne had some experience of feeding very small kittens, and she managed to feed Old Mother Growler a small meal. Then she heard a small, hoarse snore, and she smiled to herself, tucked the old cat into a more comfortable position, and began to tidy the cottage.

   When the cottage was reasonably clean she set out some more milk and her mother's special little catcake close to Old Mother Growler's head, made a mental note to bring a tray and a bag of cat litter on her next visit, and set off for home.

   The other Mighty Mousers were most impressed when they heard what she had done. Salem and Jack agreed to carry a bag of cat litter for her on her trip next day, and Fluffy followed with a tray. But Roxanne told them to be very quiet as they approached the cottage, and stay well out of sight.

   ‘She's very weak,’ she miaowed. ‘We mustn't do anything to frighten her.’

   She watched them place the litter and tray next to the door, and then crept in again. Old Mother Growler had now arranged herself in a much more comfortable position, and both the milk and the catcake were gone. Roxanne purred a soft greeting, and began to set out more food and milk, then cleaned the cottage again, filled the catlitter tray, pushed it into a corner, and crept back to lie next to the straw.

   Old Mother Growler was busy eating. She was rather a messy eater, and left lumps of catfood scattered around the edge of the dish, so Roxanne waited for her to pause, tidied the odd lumps into a neat little pile, and waited for her to clean it away.

   The cottage was silent for a while. Then Old Mother Growler put out a paw and touched Roxanne's whiskers. ‘I'm sorry I shouted at you,’ she miaowed hoarsely.

   Roxanne purred very gently. ‘You were probably lonely.’

   There was another long pause. ‘I think my kittens would have been like you.’ The old voice was so low that Roxanne could barely make it out.

   Roxanne's whiskers twitched in surprise. ‘Your kittens?’

   ‘My kittens.’ The old voice was now very sad. ‘I had three, but their father left me the day after they were born, and then they all caught cat flu and died, and I had to dig a hole in the woods and bury them.’

   Roxanne was only a young kitten. But now she began to understand a great deal. ‘Is that why you don't want kittens to help you?’

   Old Mother Growler nodded. ‘I couldn't bear to look on kittens,’ she miaowed. ‘Every time I saw one I remembered the day my kittens died, and the sight and sound of young kittens always broke my heart.’

   Roxanne thought for a moment, and then began to tell Old Mother Growler about the Mighty Mousers and their adventures. The old cat stirred, and shifted into a more comfortable listening position, and began to look quite interested, and Roxanne stroked her whiskers and the side of her face with her paw.

   ‘Would you let us be your kittens?’ she miaowed softly. ‘We could make you a nice little garden.’

   Old Mother Growler turned her whiskers down doubtfully. ‘I'm not used to company.’

   Roxanne shook her head. ‘We won't come into your cottage. We'll just tidy up a bit outside, after school, and you can have a nap while we're doing it, so you won't be bothered.’

   Old Mother Growler thought for a moment. Then she gently licked the tip of Roxanne's nose. ‘Will you come as well?’

   ‘Of course I will,’ Roxanne smiled. ‘I'll be your very special pet kitten.’

   The Mighty Mousers came every day after that. The four boy Mighty Mousers dug new flowerbeds, and mowed a little lawn, whilst Fluffy planted lots of catmint, and Roxanne brought food and cleaned the cottage, and gave Old Mother Growler a proper, comfortable catbasket with a padded lining to replace her heap of straw.

   Proper meals and Roxanne's purrs soon began to work wonders. Old Mother Growler began to hobble around again, and one afternoon they arrived from kitten school to find her curled up on the grass in front of her door. She was still very grey, but her fur had developed a bit of a shine, and she had brushed herself and cleaned her whiskers. She looked a little nervous at the sight of a group of six kittens all at once, but then she began to purr with a hoarse, scratchy sound that sounded like a cat purring after not having purred for years and years.

   ‘I've made us a family picnic, my dears,’ she purred, and sure enough she had set catfood out on her two dishes, and a large saucer of milk beside them. ‘And from now on I'm going to stop growling.’

   Roxanne sat down beside her, and took her paw, and Fluffy brushed a tear from the corner of her eye. The four boy Mighty Mousers swallowed hard, and then they all sat down, with their tails neatly curled around them, and began to eat, and from that day on Old Mother Growler never growled at a kitten again.