Tigger (3 page)

After the incident with the tree running creature, I went out every day to look for possible ways of catching one, but it proved more difficult than I had imagined. They were incredibly nimble and fast, and soon I knew that only trickery could succeed here. Meanwhile, they missed no opportunity of mocking me as they scampered through the trees and chased each other up and down the long trunks, giggling and jeering all the way. It was quite intolerable, but I put a brave face to it and made a point of sauntering along carelessly, pretending not to notice them at all. I could tell they were annoyed when I did that. Occasionally I stopped to sharpen my claws at the base of a trunk, just to let them see how long they were.

I ventured out a little further each day. Once I followed an interesting creaking noise into someone's garden. The noise turned out to be a swing, creaking on the rings that attached it to a tree branch. A small child was swinging to and fro. I don't care for small children, so I took a detour and found myself at the back of a garden shed. Wondering what lay beyond, I rounded its corner – and stared straight into the face of a large dog. One look at his sharp teeth and at his ears, which were pointed sharply forward in anticipation of a good chase, convinced me I had no option but to bolt. And here's the thing about bolting: you don't get long to decide on your direction. You have to make up your mind on the spot, then trust your instincts and take off like there's no tomorrow, or else there'll
be
no tomorrow.

In this case, the dog's athletic build and long legs made me decide against the wide expanse of the lawn in favour of the garden shed. The door was very slightly ajar; I squeezed through and darted up onto a tottering pile of crates that started wobbling even as I landed. Fortunately, they were stacked against an old wardrobe that looked much sturdier, so up I leapt and crouched down low.

The dog, meanwhile, was frantically working on the door to prise it open further. The shed shook from his efforts – or perhaps it was my heart hammering in my chest, I'm not sure. His mission accomplished, he stormed in, upsetting the crates and crashing into tools that fell over each other with a clatter. The handle of a heavy shovel hit him hard on the head, and for a moment I hoped he might have been knocked out, because he staggered a little. Alas, not for long. Either the blow had affected his judgment, or he wasn't very bright in the first place, even for a dog, because he made no effort to locate me rationally; he just wrecked the whole place. The noise was deafening; my hair stood on end as I watched tools flying and workbenches toppling. Of course the silly creature never found me. But the owner of the shed must have heard the commotion. He came storming across the garden, shouting abuse at the dog and chasing him from the shed, adding a couple of smarting blows to his other injuries. Then he came back and locked the door.

Peace returned to the shed and a warm wave of relief flooded over me. My ears gradually recovered from the noise, my hair settled down, and my tail deflated. I was safe! Even so, I had learnt from experience to stay put for a while after a crisis, just to be on the safe side. Through a crack in the wood of the shed wall, I watched the sun go down behind the trees, and by and by I realized it was dinner-time — time to go home. That was when I discovered that I was locked in just as much as the dog was locked out. There was no other escape route. A fine mess!

In my mind, I pictured Mum getting a tin of fish out of the cupboard for me, opening it and spooning it into my dish, then filling up my other dish of dry food and my milk bowl. I could almost smell it all, it seemed so real! Sure enough, a little later I could hear her calling, “Tigger! Fish!” from very far away. Normally, I'd be hiding somewhere nearby (I could go in and wait for my dinner in the kitchen, but I prefer to be called). On this occasion, however, just when I really wished I could be right next to her, I was far away and frustratingly unable to answer her call.

Goodness knows for how long I sat in that dark, messy garden shed and waited. It seemed like years. Night-time came and still I was a prisoner. Once or twice I heard my family calling for me; it sounded as though they were out looking for me. I tried to answer, but my voice wasn't loud enough and they walked past the garden. How could they ever find me in here?

Finally, it was quite dark and everyone had gone inside. I prepared myself for a long, lonely night of hunger and discomfort and had just closed my eyes when I heard a sound from the house. There were footsteps, and they were coming closer! A torch was shining towards the shed, and the man's voice called something to the people back at the house. Then – I could hardly believe my luck – he opened the shed door! I was ready for him: as soon as the door opened, I shot out between his legs. The man jumped and used some very bad language. I couldn't blame him; it must have been a shock to find me fly at him like that. I reckoned he would be even more upset once he saw the state of his shed, but I didn't wait to find out. I ran all the way home as fast as I could. They had left the back door open for me. I walked in and announced my arrival, and when my family came running to meet me, I rubbed everyone's legs in turn and told my story. They wanted to know every detail and were clearly impressed with my adventure. Outside, I could still hear the neighbour yelling. It was time to have my dinner and relax.

I was quite back to normal the next morning, but my experience in the garden shed had shaken me a little, so I chose not to go outside for a few days. I watched TV for a while after the children had gone to school, strolled around the house, helped Mum with the cleaning by chasing the mop around the kitchen floor, looked out of the window and generally kept myself busy.

I woke up from a long sleep around lunchtime with an annoying itch on my neck. Scratching did not help much; the itch just moved further along. Then another one started on my leg, then one on my back, and soon I was jumping all over the room, trying to make it stop. I realized with a shock that I had picked up fleas! It must have happened in that shed, of course. I went to tell Mum. She knew as soon as she saw me and reached for the spray. I hate flea spray! We did our little chasing game around the room, as we usually do, but it wasn't much fun because the fleas itched so much, so eventually I let her spray me. It was no use; there were too many fleas. Before long I was beside myself with itches and could not sit still even for a minute.

Mum was worried about me. She got into the car and left for the shops. When she came back, she carried a collection of plastic bottles and made for the bathroom to run a bath. I thought it was strange that she should want to have a bath in the middle of the day, but I love watching the bath fill up, so I came to stand beside her with my front paws on the side of the bath, and together we watched the water rise.

When it was full, I was surprised to see her put on rubber gloves, but not for long: before I knew it, she had picked me up and sat me in the water. Yuck!! I was so stunned, it took me a while before I could even move, by which time she had already soaked me to the skin and covered me in some very smelly shampoo. I tried a tentative struggle, but she had a tight grip on me and I was going nowhere. I simply could not believe she was doing this to me, so I pretended it was not happening and closed my eyes. She continued to rub shampoo into my hair and all over my head until I could hardly breathe. When I opened my eyes again and saw my reflection in the mirror, I nearly screamed — there was a white froth cap on my head, my body looked thin and scrawny and my tail stuck out at an angle, dripping slowly. That could not be me, surely? Mum noticed my stricken face and made soothing noises. I wished she would stop. Anyway, the shampoo was blocking my ears. Eventually she took pity on me and hosed me down under the shower. I never thought I would actually welcome a shower, but it was a relief to get the shampoo off me.

Finally, Mum lifted me out of the bath and wrapped me in a large, soft towel. I saw my chance for escape and struggled hard, but once again she would not let go. She rubbed me dry until I started to feel like myself again. Only then did she let me go. I had a good long shake to get the rest of the water out of my hair, and guess what? The itches had stopped! Mum and I bent over the bath and looked at the dirty water. I still could not believe I had actually been
in
there. There were dozens and dozens of dead fleas floating about. Mum gave me a lecture on how silly cats caught fleas and smart ones didn't, but I wasn't listening. I was beginning to feel deliciously warm and almost dry again, and very sleepy after my ordeal. I trailed off to the lounge and curled up in a sunny patch, where I dozed off immediately.

Later Mum put me in the car while she sprayed the whole house to get rid of the fleas in the carpet and on the furniture. Phew!

After several days spent cooped up inside, I became seriously bored with my life. I still did not fancy going out because of the children, dogs, tree running creatures, the general noise and fleas. This was no fun at all. I missed my quiet garden in Australia. I spent hours by the window, watching people out on the road and dreaming of my tin roof back home. When I heard water running, I thought of the crystal-blue pool back home, now very possibly taken over by freely marauding frogs no longer kept in check. When other children came to play with ours, I hid away morosely.

However, I need not have worried: my travel-happy family helped me out almost immediately. The packing started again, and this time I was excited to think that this boring place was not to be our home for good. We packed our luggage into the car (there wasn't much this time, since our furniture had not reappeared) and drove off. It was quite a long way, but I sat on Emily's lap and looked out of the window. By and by, the tall trees gave way to open fields with big, dangerous-looking creatures in them. I was glad to be safely behind glass.

After a while, we turned into a lane between high trees, then off that into a long driveway that led uphill to a big house with a veranda and bright, white steps leading invitingly up to the front door. This was it? We jumped out of the car to investigate. I led the way and the children followed. We went all the way around the house, across the lawn that surrounded it to the trees that surrounded the lawn, and back again to the car, now parked by the garage. At the end of our tour I could not believe our luck! This was
the
best place! No sign of dogs or children, no sign of any neighbourhood at all. Just us and lots and lots of space. I loved it and launched into a loud purr to tell everyone. They were pleased that I approved.

Then we went into the house, and there – wonder of wonders! – were all our things! It was still a bit messy, boxes everywhere, but I could see my armchair in one corner of the sitting room. Caroline's piano stood in a large room in the basement alongside Robin's toys. Upstairs, Emily's bed had arrived, and Mum and Dad's big bed… It didn't matter at all that this house was different from our old one back in Australia – we were home anyway! I spent the rest of the day saying noisy hellos to all the furniture, while the others unpacked the boxes, made the beds, put things away and generally sorted the house out. I discovered my bowls in a corner of the kitchen and checked they were all full. I strolled through the house, explored everyone's bedrooms and nearly all the cupboards. It was a big and interesting house. I had a feeling we would be happy there.

When evening fell, we were exhausted from our hard day's work and had an early night. I chose Emily's bedroom, because my coat looked particularly stunning against the dark turquoise of her carpet, but of course I didn't sleep there. I lay on the bed by Emily's feet and purred her to sleep.

There was much to be done over the next few days and weeks: our new home had to be explored thoroughly. I had to check out favourite places for naps, hidey-holes and lookout spots, noises and smells and, of course – hunting opportunities! As it turned out, this place had everything. I even found a spot high up on a deck at the back of the house that was ideal for secretly observing everything that moved below! It faced the morning sun, so I took to going there at the end of my early walk. I spent a couple of hours napping and watching in complete safety as all kinds of creatures went about their business on the lawn.

As for the hunting – it was very close to paradise! There were all kinds of creatures I had never seen before, and so many of them! Mice, of course, nice fat ones, and they were easily caught. I arranged them by the kitchen door for Mum. Literally hundreds of tree runners everywhere you looked. As we sat on the front veranda in the evenings, we could watch them chase each other all over the place. I was careful not to chase them, as I did not care for a repeat of the embarrassing incident in the other garden, but I watched their behaviour and favourite places and studied their strengths and weaknesses. Patience was the name of the game, and I intended to play it better next time.

There were other strange creatures that tunnelled under the lawn. If I sat still on the grass, I could watch as the turf lifted up in criss-cross patterns all around me. I could hear them as well as they moved the earth underneath me with what sounded like strong claws. Sometimes they came up to the surface, and you could always tell when that would happen, because a little mound of earth came up first. It was great fun pouncing on them when their heads popped out. Occasionally I managed to pull one out. They were a bit like mice, but bigger, and frankly, not much fun to play with; very sluggish. Once I brought one inside and set it down under Mum's desk, where it just lay still with its feet in the air. When Mum came in and sat down at the desk, she put her bare feet right on it and gave a little yell of surprise. I was proud of how well I had placed the creature. She picked it up, brought it over to me and told me it was beautiful. I was glad she liked it so much. She also said it was called ‘mole' and that we should put it back outside where it belonged. I didn't think so, but you can't argue with Mum, so we took it outside and put it back on the grass. Then Mum picked me up, carried me inside and locked my door. I didn't think that was very nice, after all I'd done for her, but that's humans for you!

The days passed and my new life settled into a pleasant pattern. In the mornings, Dad and Caroline left quite early to go to work and school. They went in Dad's car, and I watched them leave from my observation spot on the back deck. A while later, Emily and Robin walked down the drive and to the end of our lane. Mum said they were old enough to go on their own, but I didn't think so, so I went with them to make sure they were safe. When we got to the end of our lane, I hid behind a bush, because I didn't much care for the big, yellow monster that arrived shortly afterwards and stopped in front of them with much rattling and flashing of lights. I could never understand why they got in there; you couldn't have dragged me anywhere near it. Emily told me it was called ‘school bus' and that it was all right – well, rather her than me. I waited until it had roared off down the road, then went back home to report to Mum that all was well.

After that, it was time to explore! There was so much to see and do, and I found new delights almost every day. Some old tree trunks had toppled over each other in one corner of the garden, creating a wonderful hiding place and climbing stack. It was overgrown with moss, and there were often insects underneath and inside the wood that were fun to watch. They were so busy and nearly always hard at work. I helped them along a bit with my paw. From the top of the mossy wood pile I had a good view of the field next door, where the grass grew high and the green blades were like a jungle all around me as I walked along. Big, brightly-coloured insects with huge wings fluttered about. It was quite wonderful there, but you had to be careful, too. A big, black snake lived nearby and occasionally slithered along in the sandy soil. I didn't like the look of it and receded onto my high mossy wood pile when it was around.

One morning, as I returned from my walk and was about to climb the steps to the back deck for my nap, a small grey cat came sauntering across the lawn. He seemed quite at home and pleased to see me. I hadn't seen another cat in ages – not since my flight – and had not played with one since I lost my brother. I invited him to come up on the deck with me, and we had a nice time getting to know each other. He lived in a house not far away, but his owners expected him to live outside all year round – cruel people, evidently. So he used to come over to our house before we moved in and made the previous owners believe he was really
their
cat. They let him come into the house and fed him, but on balance he liked the food better in the other house, so he went back there occasionally just to keep his other family happy, too. Then the people in our house got a
dog
, and that, of course, was it as far as he was concerned. He left and never came back. Now he was pleased to see the dog had moved out and we had moved in. He asked whether I thought my family might want another cat, but I told him I was sure they didn't, because they already had me. He just shrugged and said he had to go now and would see me later. I had enjoyed our chat and told him to come by any time; then I dozed off in a lovely patch of sun.

At lunchtime I joined Mum in the kitchen for a bowl of food. Unfortunately, the cat food had not improved since our arrival. Mum knew that but said there was nothing to be done about it, as Australia was too far away to go back for cat food each week. But she made up for it by giving me little bits of cheese when she made her sandwich, and sometimes a slice of ham. I wouldn't have minded just eating her food, but she said that wasn't good for me. Typical.

After lunch and another walk around the garden, it was time to start looking out for Emily and Robin, who came back in the big, yellow monster mid-afternoon. It spat them out in the same place where it had swallowed them up in the morning. I was always glad to see them safely back and led them up the lane towards our house. We usually had a snack together in the kitchen before they went off to do their homework and watch TV. Sometimes I watched with them, but if it was a nice day, I liked to go with Mum in the car to pick up Caroline from her school. We went down a long, busy road where we passed big trucks and all kinds of scary things, but nothing could harm us, because the windows were shut tight. One day it started raining hard while we drove along and big puddles appeared on the road. A huge truck that passed us sprayed our windscreen with a great big splash of muddy water. I panicked and ducked under the dashboard. Mum thought that was very funny. She couldn't stop laughing all the way to school. I didn't think it was
that
hilarious. How was I to know we had a waterproof car?

Our evenings were usually spent getting dinner ready and watching TV. I always helped Mum in the kitchen when she cooked chicken; she needed me to check that it was all right before she cooked it for everyone else. That was always my job and still is. Caroline and Emily practised their music after dinner – piano and flute. That was a very good time to go outside for my last walk of the day, because the flute in particular was quite shrill. On warm summer evenings Mum and Dad sat out on the front veranda with their drinks, so I joined them when I returned, and we mused about the events of the day while the sun went down behind the trees.