Timba Comes Home (5 page)

‘Don’t be scared, Timba,’ he said. ‘I’ll look after you.’

He put me back in the trolley, swung it round and raced down the road, scooting with one foot and smiling at the fun he was having. I clung on, now terribly distressed, my little body bruised
from the hard wire. Up and down the road we went, wilder and wilder, with Leroy shouting and laughing.

Until suddenly there was alarm in Leroy’s eyes. He stopped still, looking at a hand clutching the trolley. An old lady who looked like a furious owl stood blocking the pavement.

‘What do you think you’re doing, young man?’ Two spots of angry red burned on the owl woman’s plump cheeks. ‘Where did you get that trolley?’

‘It’s me mum’s.’

‘No it isn’t. That belongs to Tesco. It’s got “Tesco” on it. And SURELY that isn’t a kitten you’ve got there!’

‘It’s my kitten.’

‘POOR little darling.’ She reached in and tenderly lifted me out, ignoring Leroy’s protests. I hurt so much that I made funny little meowing noises in my throat. I was already
weak, and this ordeal had made me worse. My strong back legs felt tired, my ears rang painfully, and my paws were sore.

‘You poor little angel!’ The old hands were woody, like tree roots, yet they shone. Healing hands, I thought, amazed . . . I’ve found a human with healing hands. I leaned
against the woman’s vast bosom, which was draped in layers of flowery cotton. Her eyes switched from compassion to disapproval when she looked at Leroy.

‘It’s my kitten,’ he said again.

‘Well, are you trying to kill it?’ the owl woman thundered and Leroy looked shocked.

‘No. I was only taking him out in the sunshine.’

‘But it’s hurting a young kitten to be banged about on that dreadful trolley. He must be bruised all over. He’s stunned and bewildered. Why are you treating him like
this?’

Leroy looked mortified. ‘I didn’t know,’ he said, and began to cry, this time quietly. Silent tears of shame and fright.

‘Does your mother know what you are doing?’

Leroy shook his head. The owl woman had some power over him. Her sharp eyes pinned him to the pavement. He reached up and touched the top of my head with one finger.

‘I’m sorry, Timba,’ he said in the faintest of whispers.

‘I should think you are,’ thundered the owl woman. ‘I know where you live, Leroy McArthur, and you are going to turn that trolley round and wheel it home, nicely, in front of
me, and I shall walk behind you and carry this darling kitten, and when we get to your house I shall want an explanation from that mother of yours.’

‘Mum’s in bed,’ said Leroy.

The owl woman tutted. ‘In BED? Is she ill?’

‘No . . . and can I have my kitten back . . . please?’

‘Certainly not. You aren’t fit to keep a kitten and I shall tell your mother. Oh I won’t mince my words . . . and if she’s in bed at three o’clock on a lovely
afternoon, I shall get her up.’

‘Mum might swear at you,’ Leroy warned.

‘I don’t care. Now . . . you turn that trolley round, and walk . . . go on. Walk slowly. This baby kitten is badly shaken.’

Lying in her healing hands on the long walk back was like floating in a golden bubble. I closed my eyes and purred. For the first time since we’d been abandoned, I actually felt safe.

‘And by the way . . . Leroy . . . let me look at you,’ she said, and Leroy paused and looked into her face. ‘What happened to your eye, child?’

There was a long silence.

‘Mum . . .’ began Leroy, then he hesitated. ‘I got hit by a football at school.’

Immediately his aura darkened. Why was he lying?

‘I see.’ The owl woman said no more but strutted behind Leroy, carrying me with such love, as if I was a baby bird that had fallen from the nest.

Leroy was trembling as he unlocked the front door.

‘I’ll take the trolley back to Tesco,’ he said, ‘but please . . . please let me have Timba back. He’s my kitten.’

‘No, you shall not have him back. You go and wake your mother and if she doesn’t come down here immediately, then I’ll go upstairs and see her.’ The owl woman wedged
herself in the open door, and we waited together while Leroy trudged up the stairs. We heard fierce whispering and eventually Janine came down.

‘Mrs Lanbrow,’ she muttered, looking shocked. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘This is what’s wrong. This half-dead kitten being thrashed up and down the road in a shopping trolley. It’s terrified, and it’s badly bruised. I wouldn’t be
surprised if it dies.’ The owl woman had power in her voice, but she spoke with a quiet that seemed to spook Janine. ‘And don’t blame the boy,’ she continued as Janine
turned on Leroy. ‘He’s only a child and he doesn’t understand. How come he was allowed to treat a kitten like that? I want some answers . . . and they’d better be
good.’ She lowered her voice an octave. ‘Because I’m taking this poor kitten down that road to the vet, and he will want to know what happened. This is animal cruelty, Mrs
McArthur . . . animal cruelty . . . and it’s punishable by law.’

‘She means the police, Mum,’ Leroy whispered.

‘Shut up, you. You’re in enough trouble.’

‘I can see that,’ said the owl woman, and she put a kindly arm around Leroy. ‘That swollen eye looks very nasty.’

Janine opened her mouth to speak and shut it again, her face going white as the owl woman looked scathingly at her and said, ‘And don’t even think about saying it’s none of my
business. I make it my business to care about animals . . . and children . . . and I don’t care what people think of me. Now then . . .’ She looked down at me very still and quiet in
her hands. ‘I’m taking the kitten down the road to the vet, whether you like it or not.’

‘Can I come? He’s my kitten,’ Leroy said.

‘No you can’t,’ snapped Janine.

With a blend of contempt and compassion in her eyes, the owl woman left them arguing and swept out, billowing down the street with me now half asleep in her cupped hands. I was aware of
Leroy’s running feet catching up and his anxious expression. Was I OK?

I wasn’t OK. In a haze of pain, I saw those I loved drifting towards me . . . my mum Jessica, my dad Solomon, and Vati’s elfin face with its knowing eyes. Vati was there with me. He
didn’t want me to die. Vati and the owl woman were holding me in a glistening cradle, and the pain was leaving my body one sparkle at a time. I didn’t need the vet. All I needed was the
owl woman’s huge coral-coloured aura, and Vati. Vati was wise. He would know what to do. I had to find him.

In my dream-like state, I saw myself being put gently on a soft rug under a warm light. I was limp and useless, and so sad. My self-esteem and my ambition to grow into a magnificent, independent
cat seemed futile. I was now a pathetic scrap of fur.

‘Where did you get this kitten?’

Three people were looking at me . . . Rick, the vet, the owl woman and Leroy. I felt love from all of them, even from Leroy who was still crying silent tears. I heard him telling Rick where he
had found me and how he had called me Timba.

Rick was some kind of a radiant being, and he spoke gently to Leroy. ‘And how did you feel when you found Timba?’

‘Excited,’ said Leroy, ‘cos I love animals and I always wanted a cat or a dog, but Mum never let me. I didn’t know I was hurting Timba. I didn’t . . . you gotta
believe me.’

‘I do,’ said Rick. He examined me with careful, shining fingers and listened to my heart. Then he said something wonderful. ‘Timba is going to be a most beautiful cat. He
deserves the best treatment we can give him, don’t you agree?’

There was a husky ‘Yes’ from Leroy, and the owl woman said, ‘Absolutely. . . and I shall pay the bill.’

Rick looked at Leroy with raised eyebrows, in silence, until Leroy fidgeted and mumbled, ‘Thank you,’ to the owl woman.

‘Well, I don’t suppose your mum can afford it,’ she said, and looked at Rick. ‘Single parent,’ she confided in a whisper.

‘What I want to do,’ said Rick, ‘is keep Timba here for a few days. He can have rest, peace and a controlled diet, and lots of TLC, and we’ll give him his jabs against
cat flu.’

Leroy pouted. ‘But I want him home.’

‘I know you do . . . but you have to let him get better first . . . give him a chance, Leroy. OK?’

After Rick said I was going to be a beautiful cat, I slept blissfully, knowing the owl woman was with me in spirit, and so were Vati and Leroy. In my dream, the owl woman was making colours with
her hands, colours that soaked into my bones and made them strong. She was mixing herbs and the aromas of sage, mint and catnip were infusing their therapy into my being. She was chanting a
deep-toned song, and its resonance carried me on a long, long journey to a country where the land teemed with life and throbbed with heat. I tasted the hot dust, and saw the green twilight of plant
life.

The owl woman took up a drum and began to beat it rhythmically with her powerful hands. In my sleep I felt the drumbeat pulsing far across the world to the distant country, and then I saw the
great White Lion padding towards me.

For three days I slept curled up between the velvet paws of the Spirit Lion. His heartbeat merged with the owl woman’s drumbeat, and with every thought-laden beat I grew stronger. The
White Lion’s paws never moved but held me steady in a globe of light. Below me was a cushion covered in mystic stardust, and above me the sky rippled with the blue-white tresses of the
Lion’s mane. He did not speak, and yet his silence said everything I needed to know.

At regular intervals, a hand intruded, and the humans lovingly persuaded me to wake up. They touched me with extreme gentleness, and talked softly to me. I didn’t know who they were, but I
managed to purr my appreciation, and my purr was gradually improving. They gave me tiny portions of thick, delicious milk and morsels of solid food, telling me what it was. ‘This is
tuna.’ Or ‘This is chicken.’ It was YUMMY, and when it became clear that I could have my meal in peace and not feel threatened, I began to eat ravenously and meow for more. Soon I
had the energy to wash, and enjoy grooming my fluffy coat. My bruised body healed, and began to tingle with life. My back legs felt twitchy and powerful. I even played a little between sleeps.

It was a time of healing and a time of learning something important. Humans could be good and kind, and sensitive to a cat’s needs. Humans loved and wanted cats. Somewhere out there was a
particular human who wanted ME. I hoped it would be Angie.

I heard the sound of Leroy’s scratchy voice.

‘Can I see my kitten, please? I want him back.’

‘You can’t come in here without an adult.’

‘I had to cos me mum wouldn’t come with me.’

‘Then go back and tell her what I said.’

The girl at reception had dealt briskly with Leroy. . . or so she thought. Before she could stop him, Leroy bounded into the room where I was being kept. He saw me and came to the cage with a
wide smile. ‘Hello, Timba.’

I puffed out the fur around my face and sat up. I wanted to tell Leroy to go away, that I wasn’t going to be treated like that again. But he was determined. With nimble fingers he started
unfastening the door to my cage.

‘He looks bigger,’ he said, beaming in at me, both his eyes open now.

‘You can’t do that.’ The girl shut the cage door and leaned against it, facing Leroy. ‘You’ve got a cheek, coming in here. No one is allowed in here.’

‘I don’t care. Timba’s my kitten and I want him back.’ Leroy stood his ground, his legs wide apart, his fists ready for battle. ‘You can’t stop me.’

‘OUT!’ The girl lunged towards him and tried to push him out, but she’d reckoned without Leroy’s warrior strength. He sat down on the floor.

‘I ain’t moving till I’ve got my kitten back. The vet said come on Thursday.’

‘You can’t take him without an adult. And there’s a bill to pay. Now move, please, or I’ll call for assistance.’

‘No. And Mrs Lanbrow said she’d pay the bill.’

‘All right then. I’ve got your mum’s phone number. I’ll ring her.’

‘She won’t answer. She’s in bed.’

While they argued, I was planning my life. I wasn’t going to be Leroy McArthur’s cat. If he took me, I’d run away at the first opportunity. My back legs quivered with new
strength and excitement, ready to leap out and escape. My time of recovery had passed, and the heat of courage flooded back into my body. If Leroy tried to bully me, I’d hiss at him and
scratch his hands. I’d never let him catch me again.

The door opened and Rick the vet came in. To me he was like a human angel. His aura shone white and cool blue, and he emanated calm. He knew exactly where he had to go, what to do next, who
needed him most, and it was the troubled boy sitting belligerently on the floor.

‘Hello, Leroy! What are you doing down there?’

Leroy looked up at him.

‘I want Timba back, and SHE won’t let me have him.’ He stabbed an angry finger at the receptionist, who rolled her eyes.

Rick didn’t try to make Leroy get up, but sat on the floor with him, and looked intently into the boy’s eyes. ‘You’re upset, Leroy, I can see that,’ he said kindly.
‘Are things not going too well?’

Leroy’s mouth quivered.

‘I don’t want none of my toys, or computer games, or my football, or nothing,’ he wept. ‘I just want Timba.’

‘You love him very much, don’t you?’

Leroy nodded hard, great sobs shaking his small body. ‘I wanted a pet all my life, and I found Timba . . . it’s like he were put there for me. I never meant to hurt him, and I
won’t hurt him again. I promise.’

‘Has anyone taught you how to look after a cat?’

‘No. Me mum just shouts at me. She don’t teach me NOTHING,’ Leroy cried bitterly. ‘And I get bullied at school all the time cos she don’t wash my clothes and the
other kids say I stink.’

‘That’s really tough,’ Rick said quietly. ‘So what is it about Timba that you like?’

‘I dunno.’ Leroy hesitated and turned his big eyes to look at me. ‘It’s like . . . cos when I hold him he’s alive, and I can feel his heart beating, and I know he
loves me . . . don’t you, Timba? And it don’t matter to him if I’m a bad boy.’

‘A bad boy? Are you?’

‘Yeah.’