BAD CAT, GOOD CAT. Lynne Banks Reid

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shook his head. Shaking your head usually means no, but in this case it meant, “I’m so pleased I don’t know what to say.” He just silently hugged his mum and then his dad and then bent down, picked up the cat, and tried to hug him too.

      Now, I’m not going to start making excuses for this cat. But David just might have hugged him too tight. In any case, the cat reached up a pawful of claws and scratched David on the nose. (I did tell you he was bad.)

      “OW!” shouted David, and dropped him. This didn’t bother the cat, who landed on all four feet and began to run round and round the living room like a mad thing.

      All three of them tried to catch him, but he was too quick for them. He was like a streak of white lightning. When they cornered him near the window, he leaped up on to the sofa, and then on to anarmchair, and from the back of that, on to the mantelpiece.

      His long fluffy tail was switching dangerously. It knocked over a vase, which fell to the floor and smashed into a hundred bits. Don’t even ask about the water and flowers that were in it.

      David’s mum was very upset. “Oh, you bad cat!” she cried.

      The noise of the crash had upset the cat too. When she reached for him, he thought, I’m for it! She’s going to hit me!

      He put his ears back, his mouth made a pink diamond, and he looked like a snake. He hissed. If she hadn’t backed off, he’d have bitten her.

      David thought he was magnificent, like a little tiger, or one of the god-cats in Egyptian wall paintings.

      “Shhhhh, shhhhh!” said David. “Don’t be angry!” He reached up and lifted the cat off the mantelpiece. (The cat knew at once that this one wasn’t going to hit him.) David stroked his fur gently. “I’m going to take you to meet Paloma,” he said.

      David’s dad said, “Be careful he doesn’t run away.”

      David looked at him in horror. “Run away? Why should he?”

      “Just be careful. If you’re going out the front, keep hold of him. He doesn’t know that he lives here yet.”

      David carefully carried the cat out to the road and down the path leading to Paloma’s house.

      A word about Paloma.

      Paloma didn’t collect dolls. Just soft-toy cats. They all had names and they all had different personalities. She played endless games with them.

      She couldn’t persuade David to play with her toy cats, but they talked cats whenever they met. David told her lots of interesting facts about cats from his books, and they collected cat words together. Paloma liked ‘cat-alogue’ (a book that listed cats), ‘cat-aract’ (a waterfall made of cats) and ‘cat-erpillar’ (a pillar shaped like a cat). She liked drawing these last two.

      Her un-favourite cat word was ‘caterwaul’, which means loud cat-like crying. She didn’t like that one because her dad sometimes said she was doing it when really she was just having a little cry, like you do.

      When the doorbell rang, she ran to answer it. She knew it was David because he had a special ring. Ding… ding-ding-diiiing. She was glad it was him, but when she opened the door, she got a shock.

      There in his arms was the most beautiful cat she’d ever seen.

      “Is… is it yours?” she asked.

      “Yes! He’s my best birthday present!” said David. She had never seen him looking so happy.

      And no wonder, she thought. White. Fluffy. Blue eyes. A real, real cat. And so special!

      Paloma didn’t say anything. She had a funny feeling. You can probably guess what it was. She had to bite her lip to keep the feeling inside. She reached out her hand and stroked the white cat. It had the softest fur, softer than any of her toy cats.

      “I want one just like that,” she said in a very small voice. “And I know what I’ll call it.”

      “What?”

      “Peony.”

      David had never heard that word before. But he liked the sound of it.

      “That’s a great name,” he said. “I’m going to call my cat Peony.”

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      “But I’m going to call my cat Peony!” said Paloma.

      “So?” said David.

      Paloma’s funny feeling got funnier. I mean, stronger. She still didn’t let the feeling out, even though she was very sure she didn’t want David to call his cat Peony. But she was afraid to say so in case the feeling burst out. She backed away from David and closed the front door without even saying goodbye.

      Outside the door, David stood frowning. Why had Paloma done that? It wasn’t like her. He thought of doing their special ring again, but he decided not to, and began carrying his cat back home.

      On the way, he tried out the new name.

      “Peony. Peony? Hallo! That’s your name – Peony!”

      The cat wasn’t listening. He was looking around. He liked what he saw. Openness. Freedom. Adventure!

      So it happened that David very nearly lost his cat on the first day, because, as he turned into his own gate, the cat jumped right out of his arms and made off along the pavement.

      David was so shocked he couldn’t move at first. But then he saw the cat stop running. He stood for a moment, looking around, his tail waving. This meant he wasn’t sure of himself, and somehow David knew this.

      David did absolutely the right thing. He didn’t chase after him. He walked very quietly to where he was and made a noise like “shh-wshh-wshh…” The cat turned his head to look (Hmmm, interesting noise…), but he didn’t run away. Very slowly and carefully, David got close enough, and picked him up.

      The cat thought, Not yet. I won’t run away yet. This is all too strange.

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      So he didn’t struggle, and David, feeling relief as sharp as pain, carried him home, stroking and talking to him all the way.

      Meanwhile, Paloma managed not to let her feeling out until she was alone in her bedroom. She buried her face in an armful of toy cats and made them damp. But after a bit, she thought, “If David’s got a cat, maybe Mummy and Daddy will let me have one.”

      That

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