Copycat (4 page)

‘Pinkie and I could do with some of that kind of stuff,’ Sammy muttered. ‘Dare I go in and polish it off?’ There didn’t appear to be any danger. He looked all round once more, then pushed the flap with his head. It opened easily and, a second later, Sammy was licking the food-bowl clean. Once inside the house, it didn’t need a lot more courage for Sammy to want to nose around. Maybe there was some more food somewhere?

He stepped to the doorway. Food smells of another kind wafted to him from the kitchen so that was where he headed next. There was a water-bowl in there but no more food to be seen. Sammy took a drink. There was no doubting this was the house of the cat whose scent was so strong in the garden, for his smell was everywhere in the house too. Sammy knew the animal could return at any time but he wasn’t afraid of any mere cat. So, since the cat’s owner wasn’t at home, he decided to continue to explore. There was one more room on the ground floor which also smelt of food. It was the dining-room. Sammy sat under the table, sniffing the tantalizing aroma. Suddenly he heard a rattle. He ran instantly back to the first room. A sleek black cat stood by the patio door, having just slipped inside. Its hackles rose at the sight of Sammy and it stared at him, motionless, taking his measure. Sammy stood his ground. The black cat was smaller than he was and he could tell it was on its guard and more likely to flee than to fight.

‘You live here?’ Sammy asked mildly.

‘Always.’ A strange answer!

‘You mean you were born here?’

‘Of course I wasn’t born here. I came from a pet shop like the other cats.’

‘Are there others living here too, then?’ Sammy asked.

‘Not at the moment. They’ve gone away. They often do. But
I
still live here and I get fed too.’

‘Yes. I noticed. Why is it you don’t go with the other cats, then?’

‘Which other cats?’

‘The ones who have gone away.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ the black cat said. He had begun to relax. ‘How would I know what the other cats do?’

Sammy came closer. There was no threat offered on either side. ‘You said the others had gone away?’ he quoted.

The black cat sat down. ‘My owners. My owners have gone away,’ he explained. ‘That doesn’t mean any cat has the right –’

‘I’m not any cat,’ Sammy interrupted. ‘I’m different. And
I
didn’t come from a pet shop.’

‘No. You look like a stray.’

The significance of the last word, with all that it entailed for Sammy and Pinkie, sent a shiver of remembrance along the tabby’s spine. ‘I live independently, yes. With my mate. We prefer it that way. But I detest that word “stray”.’

‘What other word is there?’

Sammy said, ‘What’s your name? And who feeds you now?’

‘Monty. What’s yours?’

‘Sammy. Aren’t you going to tell me how you get fed?’

‘You’d like to know that, wouldn’t you? Just like the rest. All they think about is food.’

‘The “rest” being the other cats?’

‘Who else? I can’t always eat the whole plateful at once; she puts out such a lot at a time. And then, of course, there they are sniffing around, hoping for an extra meal.
I
can’t keep them out. But they’ve no right to –’

‘Other cats come in here?’ Sammy interjected.

‘Well, they would, wouldn’t they? Even when I’m here sometimes. Oh, they’ll wait until the girl’s gone, but –’

‘But you don’t scare them off?’

The black cat looked uncomfortable. ‘No. Well, I’m not as rough and tough as some of them. Like
you
, I suppose. But this is
my
home. And why do they think they’ve the right to –’

‘Strays or pets, the other cats?’ Sammy blurted out. He’d had an idea.

‘Oh, they’re nearly all so-called “pets” round here,’ Monty answered derisively. ‘They don’t behave much like it, though. They’re as greedy as . . . well, you know . . .’

‘The ones like me?’ Sammy finished.

‘What I meant was, the ones who try to catch their own food,’ Monty replied diplomatically.

‘I could perhaps be of help to you,’ Sammy offered craftily, ‘if you would be prepared to make it worth my while.’

Monty’s eyes narrowed. ‘You help? How?’

‘I think I could keep the unwanted callers away.’

‘Oh yes? And what am I expected to do in return?’ the black cat asked suspiciously.

‘I don’t ask much. A portion of your unwanted food, a dry place to lie . . .’ Sammy stretched his legs, front pair first, then the hind ones. He lifted a paw and licked it, then rubbed it over his face. His air of nonchalance was calculated and persuasive. Monty felt he had nothing to lose.

‘Doesn’t sound a lot,’ he admitted. ‘How would you go about driving off the intruders?’

‘I’m a King Cat,’ Sammy answered simply, referring to the position of supremacy he had held when younger amongst a group of rivals. ‘And I’m the son of a King Cat too.’

Monty didn’t know what a King Cat was. He was and always had been a human’s pet. But the title certainly sounded impressive. ‘Oh,’ he whispered, rather in awe of the tabby. ‘Well, in that case . . .’

‘Good,’ said Sammy. ‘Now, first things first. When is the food brought?’

‘Mornings and evenings.’

‘Ah. So you’ve had your first meal today?’

‘Yes. And you found it, didn’t you?’

‘Me?’ Sammy cried. ‘Oh no. When I came in here there wasn’t enough food left for a mouse.’

‘So another came before you,’ Monty growled. ‘You see what I mean? They’re in and out all the time. I can’t stand guard here, can I? Of course, the girl thinks
I
eat it all. So she keeps putting out –’

‘Too much for one?’ Sammy finished for him. He blinked and smiled a cat smile. ‘Yes, we’ll have to make sure that continues, won’t we?’

Monty stared, unsure if this was a threat.

‘Well, look at me,’ Sammy continued. ‘This is how you look if you live off birds and mice. I want to look like you. Glossy and plump and contented. It’s dangerous to look anything less these days, isn’t it?’

Monty said, ‘You mentioned a mate. Where is she? Hiding upstairs?’

‘No, no. I came alone. We’re strangers to the area and I needed to find us a safe spot. So I left her waiting. But there’s no point in keeping her in suspense any longer. I’ll go and tell her the good news. And we’ll be back in time for the next feed.’

Monty gaped as Sammy slipped through the cat-flap. The tabby had settled affairs to his own satisfaction, but the black cat felt as though events had somehow overtaken him. ‘Well,’ he gulped. ‘I’m not quite sure what I’ve done. He seems to think he has the right to –’ He broke off, then muttered, ‘And his mate too!’

—6—

I’ll scratch yours

Sammy was very pleased with himself. At his first attempt he had found a cosy base and the promise of some good food for himself and Pinkie. Pets like Monty were easy to deal with. Things were looking up.

Pinkie wasn’t where he had left her, and Sammy soon discovered why. A man was in the garden by the shed where they had spent the night and he had an Alsatian with him. Sammy sprang from the fence-top back into the neighbouring garden. He guessed Pinkie must have gone over the wall to the riverside. He called her and heard her answer, and they were soon reunited.

‘To think we spent all night in there under the nose of that huge dog,’ Pinkie said at once. ‘We’ll never be able to sleep there again.’

‘Oh, we were quite safe,’ Sammy answered airily. ‘Pet dogs like that are usually kept indoors.’ He thought of Molly, the gentle old mongrel he had been brought up with. ‘Besides, it wouldn’t have known we were there.’

‘But afterwards?’ Pinkie mewed. ‘We were sunning ourselves right there by the fence. We could have been torn to pieces!’

‘Nonsense,’ Sammy soothed. ‘Dogs of that kind are softer than they look. Anyway, let’s forget it. Our problems are over.’

‘How can that be?’

Sammy explained proudly about his arrangement with the black cat. To his disappointment Pinkie’s reaction was guarded.

‘Have you been careful enough? I wouldn’t trust anything where humans are concerned.’

‘There
are
no humans. They’re away.’

‘What about the one who brings the food?’

‘There’s no cause for alarm. The food is left. The girl doesn’t stay around. The black cat told me. And we wouldn’t put in an appearance until the house was empty.’

‘Just when all the other cats in the neighbourhood are gathering.’

‘Oh, Pinkie! You don’t know that. Other cats come. But probably not in a group. They’re all rivals for the food, aren’t they? So they’d be trying to sneak in secretly where they could, wouldn’t they, to cheat the rest? Anyway, I’m going to stop all that. That’s the deal.’

‘I hope you’ll be a match for them.’

‘They’re just pets like Monty,’ Sammy replied confidently. ‘And I’m a fighter.’

Pinkie purred. ‘Of course you are,’ she said. ‘And a winner too.
I
should know. I didn’t mean to doubt you. You’ll be tough enough for them all. Oh, how the sparks will fly!’ She sounded gleeful.

Sammy looked at her smugly. ‘Isn’t it a clever plan?’ He nuzzled her. ‘Our lives will be transformed. Some of that good nourishing pet food every day and a warm dry place to sleep! We won’t be vagabonds any more. And we won’t be taken!’

Pinkie let him enjoy his feeling of success. She looked forward, as he did, to some good food. She ached for a really satisfying meal. But she had no intention of using a human dwelling to sleep in. That was going too far. You could get trapped like that. She would say nothing for the moment. Sammy would find out soon enough and, when he did, he would see the error of his ways.

They were both impatient for the evening. Their hunger was sharpened by the promise of what was to come. Sammy was content to hold on, but Pinkie was so ravenous she went hunting on her own. By the river bank she found a dead fish floating amongst some reeds. It was a large fish and a lucky find. Pinkie hooked it out and smelt it carefully. It wasn’t particularly fresh but the strong odour made her mouth run with water. She took a couple of bites. The flesh was soft, almost rotten. Pinkie swallowed it easily. There was enough meat on the bones for Sammy too. After satisfying her immediate craving she ran back to fetch him.

The news of Pinkie’s find tempted him sorely. It wasn’t the kind of food they would be eating in future, but there was still a good part of the day to endure before Monty’s food-bowl could be investigated.

‘I’ll come and have a look,’ Sammy told his little white-coated mate.

‘Don’t do yourself any favours,’ Pinkie muttered but Sammy didn’t hear and she led him off at a run.

Sammy’s nose picked up the smell of the half-eaten fish before his eyes located it. When he saw it he was angry. It was the perfect representation of everything about their present life he was determined to change.

‘It’s disgusting,’ he growled. ‘I shan’t touch it!’

‘Please yourself,’ Pinkie replied. ‘There was a time when you would have thought it a banquet.’

‘No,’ he said. ‘There are some things I never would have eaten. And neither of us is going to accept food like that again.’

Pinkie had her own views on that matter but she kept silent.

‘Don’t you see? You’ve got to think differently,’ Sammy went on. ‘The sort of cats we’re going to be wouldn’t give that . . . that object a second look.’

‘Is that so?’

‘It is. Remember: think like a pet so that you can act like a pet. It’s perfectly simple.’

‘It may be to you,’ she retorted. ‘I’ve passed too many seasons making out whichever way I can to be able to change so suddenly. There’s such a thing as instinct.’

‘Of course. But follow me; just do as I do. You’ll get the hang of it.’

‘I’ll never get the hang of passing up a good meal,’ Pinkie told him honestly. Sammy ignored the remark.

As the day wore on the tabby became more and more agitated. He could think of nothing but getting into Monty’s garden, watching for the food delivery and then effortlessly ousting any competitors. He prowled up and down against the high wall, on the river side. Pinkie watched him irritably from her couch of weeds. Finally she said, ‘Why on earth don’t you go? You look like a caged beast. Perhaps the food is already there.’

Sammy looked at her sharply. ‘D’you think so? We mustn’t miss out. But it’s still daylight.’

‘Does the food come under cover of darkness?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Well then . . .’

‘All right. We’ll go now and take up the best places.’ He spurted away as though his life depended on it. Pinkie had difficulty keeping up.

‘This way, this way,’ Sammy hissed when they reached Monty’s garden, creeping through the clumps of plants in the flower bed and keeping close enough to the fence to feel his fur brushing it. They neared the house. The black cat wasn’t anywhere to be seen, neither was there any sign or sound of a human presence. But, just ahead, under a shrub, squatting motionless as a sphinx, was another cat, a stocky black-and-white. It was facing the big glass door, so totally absorbed in watching that it wasn’t aware of the newcomers. Sammy realized that he and Pinkie had come just in time. They inched along.

Suddenly Monty appeared, running down the centre of the lawn directly to his little door. He disappeared inside the house. Immediately the black-and-white cat got up, but Sammy ran to him with a low growl and blocked his path. The other animal recoiled, taken totally by surprise. Pinkie purred excitedly, waiting for fur to fly.

Monty ate busily. Every so often he paused to look outside. He suspected that other animals were around but he didn’t know where they were lurking. He heard a snarl, then the angry sounds of a brief scrap. The black-and-white cat raced across the grass with Sammy in pursuit. The tabby drove it straight to the fence where it scrambled for sanctuary, its tail flicking nervously. But Sammy wasn’t happy with that. He growled threateningly, preparing to launch himself. The black-and-white cat didn’t wait around. It was gone in a trice.

‘My!’ Monty said to himself. ‘This
is
an animal to be reckoned with.’ He backed away from the food-bowl as though he’d been eating something that didn’t belong to him.