K. The Last Kitten

The Last Kitten


Stripes was the last kitten left, all his brothers and
sisters had been chosen by people but Stripes had not. "Actually," they
would say, "we'll have the one that isn't hiding under the sofa." And
Stripes would be left behind again.


Stripes had big kitten eyes, an adorable kitten face, and
fuzzy, scruffy, kitten fur, and he liked nothing more than to chase
pieces of string and climb on things he should not. He was just like
any other kitten but that he was so dreadfully scared of new things,
and whenever new people came he would hide under the sofa where it was
safe.


Stripes, who had been the smallest of the litter, had often
wished to have his mother all to himself, but now he found it
unexpectedly boring. Sure, he could now play the tail game with the
whole tail to himself, and she would lick him and lick him until he was
very clean, but he the tail game was not as much fun on his own, and
the endless licking became tiresome after a while. Besides, Stripes
could lick himself now, and hardly ever fell over, except when licking
the really difficult parts.


Stripes liked things that moved, he liked pieces of string,
he liked torch beams in the dark, he liked his own reflection in the
glass, but most of all he liked his mothers tail. The reason Stripes
liked things that moved is because they could be pounced on, and
Stripes especially liked pouncing on things. Stripes' mother did not
like having her tail pounced on and when she did not like something she
swished her tail, which made Stripes want to pounce on it again, which
made her swish it more, which made Stripes pounce on it again, and so
on until she hissed at Stripes and he ran and hid under the sofa where
it was safe.


Stripes wanted nothing more than to be taken away by new
people, he wanted a new home, he wanted to be chosen. When he slept,
which was often, he dreamed of the fantastic places he might be taken.
He wondered whether there would still be pieces of string to chase at
his new home, or whether he would be allowed on the table, or whether
his reflection in the glass would still be there and what it would do,
and whether he would still be able to hide under the sofa.



When Stripes knew new people were coming he would get very
excited, determined that these would be the people who would take him
away with them. He always sat in the middle of the floor, far from the
sofa, expectantly waiting and determined to make a good impression. He
would lick himself, or his mother would lick him, until his fur stood
up at all sorts of angles and he looked really scruffy. He would
imagine being taken away, perhaps in a cardboard box with holes in it,
or perhaps in a proper cat carrier, to all sorts of wonderful places.
He imagined houses with long slippery hallways, with huge king size
beds with huge king size quilts to get lost under, with fantastic
gardens to explore and fishponds with frogs to chase. Stripes would
imagined all these things and work himself up into such a state of
tremulous excitement that he could no longer sit still on the floor and
would have to start running about the room and chasing things that were
not there.


Then, when the doorbell rang, all the excitement would
magically evaporate and Stripes would stop still wherever he was and
worrying thoughts would fill his head. What if he did not like the new
place, what if his reflection were no longer in the glass and there
were no things to climb on and no things to chase - even the things
that were not there, what if he wanted his mother when she was not
there, and, worst of all, what if there were no sofa to hide under.
These thoughts would make Stripes nervous and he would no longer be
sure that he really wanted to go. And when the door was answered his
nervousness would turn to fear, and he was certain that he did not want
to go. And when the new people came in, and they did not look or smell
like any people he had seen or smelt before, the fear would turn to
terror and Stripes would become determined that he definitely did not
want to go and would run, as fast as he could, straight under the sofa
where it was safe. And there he would stay until the new people had
gone.


Again and again this happened, and each time Stripes became
more determined that the next time he would be brave, and stay and meet
the new people, and be chosen, but each time he would panic at the last
moment and hide under the sofa. One by one his brothers and sisters
were taken away until he was the only one left, and the new people
would still come, and he would still not be chosen.


After the people left without him Stripes would feel
wretched, and he would stay under the sofa to hide his embarrassment
and listen to the people sitting above wondering what they were going
to do. When he came out his mother would lick him all over and tell him
that the next time he would be brave, but when the next time came and
he was not brave, and the time after that, she told him that if he was
not picked soon he would be cut up and made into mittens. She did not
think this was true but it was what her mother told her and she did not
know what else to say to make Stripes brave.


The next time that new people came Stripes was resolute that
he was not going to hide, he spent the whole day practicing being
brave, sitting in the centre of the room and not running away at all,
he did it for hours. When the time came his mother sat next to him and
licked him all over until his fur stood right up on end. This time
Stripes did not get excited, he was concentrating so hard on being
brave, he did not imagine the new home he was going to, he just
imagined not hiding under the sofa, and even though there were a lot of
things that were not there, he did not chase any of
them.


When the doorbell rang Stripes did not even flinch and his
mother laid her head on him so that even if he wanted to he could not
run away. When he smelt the new person a wave of terror swept over him,
and he wanted desperately to hide, but he was brave, and stayed where
he was. Then when Stripes saw the new person for the first time he
panicked. She was a horrible spindly old woman, with long thin arms and
bony fingers and wrinkled skin. Surely, thought Stripes, this cannot be
a person to take me away, it must be a person come to turn me into
mittens and keep those bony hands warm. And Stripes tried to run but
his mother held him down so he twisted and scratched and bit and
finally his mother was forced to let him go and he bolted straight
under the sofa.


Stripes cowered under the sofa and snivelled, why could he
not have been brave before, when there were nice people, and not this
old person who wanted to cut him up and turn him into mittens. Well he
did not want to be turned into mittens, and he was going to stay under
the sofa until the old person was gone.


Then a long bony hand appeared under the sofa and fished
about for him. Hands had tried to pull him out from under the sofa
before of course but they could never reach him, but the arm this hand
was attached to was so long, and so thin, that it could reach all the
way under the sofa and there was nowhere to hide, and it was so quick
that despite his best efforts to run away it soon pinched him by the
scruff of the neck and pulled him out.


Stripes hung limp and looked at the wrinkly thin old woman
who held him, and she looked at him and said "Oh he's adorable.". Then
the old woman put him down into the hollow between her folded arm and
her breast and began to stroke him, and though Stripes, who never liked
being stroked, tried to get away she stroked him so hard and so quickly
that he could not. It was like being a pastry rolled out ready for pie,
firmly massaged and flattened. After a moment Stripes stopped
struggling because it was not any use, and he submitted to the
affection, doubtless intended to flatten his fuzzy fur in order to make
better mittens. But he noticed that he was not scared any more, and the
stroking was not altogether unpleasant, and the wrinkly skin of the old
woman was actually very soft, and her bony hands were supple and
pleasant to touch, and despite himself he was purring.


And Stripes looked down and saw his mother wrapping herself
around the legs of the old woman and he thought that maybe that meant
he was not going to be made into mittens after all. Perhaps the old
woman was just going to take him to a new home, and because she was an
old woman Stripes betted that there would be balls of wool there, and
porcelain things to knock over, and there would definitely be sofas.
And he said goodbye to his old sofa, to his reflection wherever it was
just then, and to the pieces of string, and the things that were not
there. And he looked down and mewed goodbye to his mother, and she
mewed goodbye to him.