Tigger (4 page)

As the weeks passed, it grew cooler, the crickets suspended their concerts, and in the early mornings dew covered the grass and the large spider webs that hung in the trees. They sparkled like silver in the morning sun.

Later still, the ground became very cold, hard and frosty-white. The trees changed colour from green to various shades of yellow, red and brown. As I sat still on my mossy wood pile, I could hear them slowly floating down all around me; they made a soft rustling noise. They were exactly my colour, so I became invisible amongst them, even to my family. When the children went off for a walk down the lane, I was able to stalk them through the undergrowth for ages without being noticed. Sometimes we explored the countryside together. A narrow path led off the lane deep into the forest. We liked going there, because the forest floor was covered thickly in pine needles, which muffled our footsteps and turned our walk into a silent and mysterious adventure. The lane led to a lookout platform high up in a tree. At dawn and dusk, big animals with branches on their heads walked through the forest. If we kept very still, they didn't see us.

As it grew colder, Dad collected wood from a large pile by the back door and used it to make a fire in a big, black box that stood in a corner of the large basement room. The fire hissed and roared, but Dad shut the glass door of the black box and locked the fire inside. After a while, I could feel heat radiating from it, and the whole room became lovely and warm. Through the glass door, you could see the flames licking the wood, which started glowing yellow, orange and red. Dad kept the fire going day and night while it stayed cold. The sofa by the black box became my favourite spot, where most of the family joined me in the evenings. Sometimes it got so hot the humans couldn't stand it any longer and went upstairs, where it was cooler, but to me it felt just right. When they left, I stretched out on the sofa until I was as long as I could be, and slept and slept and slept…

One morning I woke up on the sofa and everything felt different. Even the light in the room was different. It was a soft, creamy light, and everywhere was very still. I was on my guard straight away. I walked over to the cat flap my family had installed for me in the basement door. When I carefully lifted the flap, icy air stung my nose. Then I saw the whiteness everywhere; an ice cold, sparkly white substance that covered our entire garden, even the branches of the trees and every bush. The grass had disappeared under it, and with it the mole heaps and the russet leaves. No more hiding out there for me! My fur would stick out brightly for everyone to see! This was bad news, and I wondered who was behind it? I strongly suspected my family, who were always up to strange new tricks. I resolved to have stern words with them when they got up.

But for now there was really nothing for it but to go out there, because I needed a pee. I crept carefully outside — front paws first, then one back paw, then the other, then my tail, very gently, so no loud click of my cat door closing would give my position away to the enemy. Nothing unusual so far. All was eerily quiet, and although the white substance smelled cold, it looked very clean and soft. I gingerly placed one front paw on it. Freezing! I pulled back immediately and had to shake my paw hard to get the stuff off. I tried again with the other paw, but same thing. What was I to do? The cold made me even more desperate for my pee.

I could see a small bare patch under a big tree some distance from the house. The white stuff must have come from above, because the tree branches had obviously prevented it from landing under the tree. First mystery solved. I decided to make a run for that bare patch. If I ran fast I wouldn't feel the cold so much; so I set forth. The white was deeper and colder than I had thought. I had to take big leaps to stop it touching my tummy. Soon it clung between my toes, gluing them together. I tried to shake my paws while running, which proved almost impossible. Eventually I made it to the tree and did my business in the comfort of the bare patch there. Impossible to dig a hole though, as the ground was completely frozen. Too bad, it would have to do. No enemy in their right mind would come looking for me today, and if they did, I wished them luck.

Looking around, I could now see that the whiteness was not confined to our garden. The lane was white, and the two neighbouring houses that could just be seen through the bare trees also had it on their roofs, just like ours. Either my family had ordered too much of it, or they were in fact innocent after all. Unlikely, but I decided not to pass judgment until I was certain.

My business done, I had no choice but to leap back to the house, trying to keep to the paw prints I had made on my way out. I dashed in through the cat door and straight upstairs to announce the disaster to my family, but too late! They were already up, and the children were leaping about by the windows, screeching and laughing and clapping their hands. They had clearly gone mad overnight. I called them to order, but as soon as they noticed me, they scooped me up and dragged me to the window. They pointed to the whiteness out there as though it was the best thing in the world and were obviously very pleased with it. They must have ordered it after all. What would the neighbours say when they found out? And my new grey friend? How was I ever going to explain to him what my family had done? It was too embarrassing for words!

I was speechless all through breakfast, staring numbly through the kitchen window at the white hell outside. No sooner had the children finished breakfast than they threw on some clothes and ran outside, where they jumped about in the white fluff, threw themselves onto their backs into it, yelled and laughed. Mum and Dad joined them after a while, and all were clearly happy with what they had done. I sneaked out behind them and climbed up to my morning deck, which had a roof and was therefore dry. From up there, I watched them for some time, wondering what strange turn my life had taken yet again, when all of a sudden the sun rose from behind the trees and the white substance sparkled silver, pink and light blue. I had to close my eyes for a moment because it was so bright, but my goodness, was it beautiful! As far as I could see from my lookout place, the whole world was wearing a glittering coat of brightness, and above it the sky was a deep blue. I don't think my family had time to notice all this. They were too busy throwing themselves about below me, leaving imprints of their bodies with their arms spread out. Humans are very odd creatures…. But I lay very still on my deck and looked all around and was beginning to understand why my family had made everything white. It was actually quite nice for a change.

By the next day, it was much easier to walk on our white lawn because of the holes my family had made everywhere. I even went for a walk into the forest with the children, where we saw footprints made by rabbits and by the big animals with branches on their heads. We sat on the platform in the big tree, eating biscuits we had brought from home, and admired the stillness and the white all around us. After a while, more of it started coming down! I was a bit alarmed at first, but it didn't hurt. It fell slowly from the sky in small crystals that landed gently on the tree branches, on our heads and on the ground. When we kept very still — which was hard for Robin – we could actually hear it land with a very soft hissing sound, much softer than the rustle of the autumn leaves. The children told me the white substance was called ‘snow', and I made a mental note to remember that word, because it was clearly of some importance in this place.

The snow didn't stay very long. Three days later, the weather changed and it started melting. As I lay on the deck in the late morning sunshine, I could hear it trickling away down the gutters and dripping off the tree branches. The children had made a little man out of snow with Robin's woolly hat on. I watched it getting smaller and smaller until eventually it collapsed and the woolly hat fell off. I was as sad as the children to see it go. The grass underneath looked brown and squashed when it emerged, and so wet that it squelched under my paws.

My family seemed to forget to order more snow for quite a while after that, which was surprising considering how much they had liked it the first time. The hunting was definitely better without it, but I still wished they would get more one day.

The cat door my family had installed for me was too tricky for my liking. Similar to my Australian door, it only opened during the day and locked for the night after I came in from my last walk. In the morning, Mum or Dad came downstairs and opened it somehow. I watched them closely and tried to do the same thing with my paws when I was alone, but it never worked. I even tried to dismantle the whole door using my teeth and claws, but no luck. So I had to stay in all night, which was boring in summer. In winter, when it was warm and cosy by the fire and bitterly cold outside, I didn't mind so much. However, it has to be said in fairness to the door that it had its good point as well: it knew that it was my door alone and never, ever let any other animals in, which was pretty cool. A big, fat toad once spent hours glued to the glass panel, desperate to join us inside, but the door stayed shut.

While it was cold and snowy, I did not see my new friend the grey cat again. This may have been because his grey/white colouring made him invisible in the snow, just like I blended in with the autumn leaves. But as soon as the ground dried up a little, he was back. We sat on the deck together, and Mum came out to join us for a while. She was very friendly to him – almost a touch too friendly, perhaps – and he certainly did his best to endear himself to her, rubbing his head against her as she stroked him and purring into her face, the two oldest and cheapest tricks in the book.

When it was time for me to go inside for my lunch, he made to follow me. I stopped, glared hard at him and told him he could not come inside. He just sniffed at a flower, looked innocent and scratched himself behind the ear. I think he had fleas. When he was in mid-scratch and looked the other way, I ran towards my cat door as fast as I could and slipped inside. Halfway up the stairs, I heard a loud bang, and turning around I saw my new friend standing just outside the closed cat door, looking stunned. He must have banged his head really hard on the door, because he shook it a few times before trotting off.

I was grateful to the door and went upstairs to tell Mum all about it. She listened carefully and looked pleased. Then she gave me a piece of salami to eat, which was nice of her because, really, it was the cat door that deserved a reward.

My friend never tried to come into our house again. He returned a few days after the incident and bore me no grudge, so it was just as well I had made it clear whose territory this was. We were happily strolling through the garden together, when suddenly a large, fierce-looking dog came trotting up the driveway towards us. Escape clearly being the only option, I bolted, but in my haste I ran away from the house instead of towards it! There was nowhere to take cover except for a large tree. I raced up its trunk like one of those tree runners and amazed myself by making it to the lowest branch, which was almost as high up as the roof of our house. I clambered up onto the branch and turned to call to my friend to join me. To my amazement, he was still standing in the same spot, facing the huge dog — back arched, hair spiked up and teeth bared. He gave one vicious hiss and struck the dog on the nose with his right front paw. It happened so fast, the dog never had the chance to step back. It yelped, turned tail and fled! I called a loud meow of victory for my friend, who looked up at me blankly and asked what I was doing up the tree.

I indicated I was just coming down again, but when I tried to climb down, I found I was too high up and couldn't. Luckily Dad was home and had watched the whole episode. He got the long ladder from the shed and helped me down. My friend sat and watched us, and this time
he
looked impressed. I don't think his humans would have helped him like my family helped me. He would probably have been stuck up that tree forever. I was glad we were here now to look after him, should he ever get in trouble again.

Christmas was coming. I knew because every day tantalising smells wafted down the stairs into the basement room from the kitchen, where Mum and the children baked cookies. They also made a gingerbread house decorated with colourful sweets. Some of them could be rolled along the table top with a front paw until they plopped on the floor to disappear under the fridge. The roof of the little house was covered in something white that looked exactly like snow, but wasn't cold and tasted sweet when I licked it. It was a very pretty little house; I had my picture taken next to it.

We also decorated the outside of our real house with green garlands and red bows that looked lovely against the white paintwork. Through the bare trees, we could see the neighbours' houses all decorated with coloured lights, some of them flashing. They were a bit alarming at first. I went to check them out, but after keeping watch from behind a tree for some time, I was able to pronounce them perfectly harmless. For some reason, the humans enjoyed these lights a lot. Soon there were houses and front gardens flashing everywhere.

Mum put some food out for the birds on the garden table, which stood on the veranda by the living room window. Whenever I got bored, I sat by the window and watched the birds peck at the seeds. They were so tempting, but unfortunately the window was shut tight – I checked. Sometimes tree runners would also come up and eat the seeds. That was really exciting, as it gave me an opportunity to study their strengths and weaknesses at very close range. The only weakness I could spot was greed! I didn't realize at that point just how useful that knowledge was going to be for me one day…

Mum and the children came back from school with a large tree tied to the car roof. It seemed a silly idea to bring a tree home on the car roof when we had so many growing all around the house. It took them ages to untie the ropes that were holding it in place. Then they carried it through the back door into the kitchen and on into the living room. I kept out of the way, because the tree was so big it filled the doorway completely and nobody seemed to be able to see where they were going. Robin stepped right into my water bowl. Finally the tree was put up in a corner of the living room. We all stood around and admired it. For all that it was strange to have it there right in the room, it did look magnificent – a bright splash of green that filled the entire corner. It smelt wonderful too, of leaves, pine cones and secret, dark pathways through the undergrowth. Just like having the forest in our house. I would have been perfectly happy to leave it there as it was, but my family had other ideas: they brought in boxes full of glittering ornaments and spent the rest of the afternoon hanging them on the tree's branches until it sparkled like the snow on a sunny day. Then they added little lights and switched them on just as it grew dark outside. It looked quite magical.

The tree was an excellent hiding place. Screened by green branches and dangling ornaments, I watched unnoticed as visitors' feet walked past. We had lots of visitors, and there were children everywhere who wanted to make a fuss of me. They tried to put a tinsel bow around my neck, but I soon got rid of that. There were often yummy leftovers in my bowl at night, and we lit candles as soon as it grew dark in the evenings. I loved watching them flicker.

One day, I was woken up at dawn by yells and laughter to find the children ripping colourful paper off parcels that had somehow appeared under the Christmas tree overnight, while Mum and Dad sat on the sofa, looking sleepy. Toys, clothes, story books and many other interesting things emerged from the parcels, leaving large swathes of wrapping paper scattered all over the living room floor. I played hide-and-seek in the paper with the children all morning. I would hide in one of the multi-coloured tunnels until they had forgotten about me, then pounce on their bare feet when they weren't looking. Poor Robin lost his balance at one point and fell on his new Lego castle. I helped him build it again later.

The children stayed home from school over the Christmas holidays, and there was more snow. It was very cold outside. The black box in the basement room was hissing away and puffing out heat to keep us warm. We had games in the snow together. I was quite used to the snow by then and didn't mind getting a little wet. We played hide-and-seek in the garden. It was not easy for me to hide in the snow; they spotted me every time. So I looked for a darker hiding place. There was a door under the steps leading up to the front veranda. Normally it was closed, but on that day, the wind was blowing. As I passed the door, it creaked open a bit. What a stroke of luck! I ran inside, and as my eyes adjusted to the dark I could see that I was in an open space underneath the house, with tiny windows all around. The ground was rough earth; it smelled musty. I heard the children running around outside looking for me and felt very smug in my hiding place. They would never find me here! After a while, they gave up and called me. I was just about to make a brilliant entrance through the little door, tail held high, when another blast of wind knocked it shut in my face. I tried to push it open again, but it was shut tight and I could not move it.

There I was, caught yet again. I was furious with the door, with the wind, and even a little bit with myself. I checked all the windows, but they were barred and I could only just squeeze my paw through in between the bars. I would have no choice but to call the children and ask them to let me out. So I called them. They called me, too. I heard them, but they obviously could not hear me, because they walked off after a while and left me to my dark hiding place. Soon it was evening and even darker. Dinnertime came and went. I heard them chatting and eating above me in the kitchen. The clunk of their cutlery on the plates made me quite hungry. I called again many times, but they made too much noise for my little voice to be heard.

When dinner was over and cleared away, Mum and Dad came outside with torches to look for me. They walked all over the garden, calling my name, but never near enough to catch my frantic calls. Oh how I wanted to get out of this stuffy place and sleep under their bed! But it was no use. They gave up after a while and went back into the house. I had been right: they would never find me here!

Soon everything went quiet above – they had gone to sleep. I dug myself a small hollow in the earth to get some rest. It was not easy to relax – the musty smell was awful and caught in my throat. But I must have dozed off in the end, because all of a sudden I woke up from a strange dream in which three tree runners were dancing up and down in front of me, giggling and carrying bowls of delicious food. It was the middle of the night and very still, but the click of the back door had woken me. I heard Mum's voice calling for me very softly into the stillness, then she stood quietly, listening.

My chance had come! I ran over to the window nearest to her and called her as loudly as I could. She
must
have heard me! I could see her slippered feet coming down the steps into the garden. It took her a while to work out where I was, and in the end I had to stick my paw through the bars of the little window and wave it up and down a bit. Thank goodness there was a bright moon – my white paw was clearly visible against the dark window. Mum saw me and gave a small gasp of surprise. I knew she was wondering how on earth I had got myself trapped in there, so I started explaining straight away. She had to walk all the way around the house to get to the little door. I ran alongside her on the inside, past all the tiny windows, telling her my tale, until she finally got to the door, opened it and let me out. I jumped up into her arms, so glad to swap the hard, smelly earthen floor of my prison for the soft material of her dressing gown and her night-time scent of soap and lotions. She held me tight and told me I was a silly cat. Maybe I was, but I didn't really care, because I was safe once again.

Mum carried me back into the house, and we were finally able to sleep in peace. The next day, Dad hammered some nails into the little door under the house, so it wouldn't open again. I sat next to him while he worked and made sure it was quite secure.