Читать книгу BAD CAT, GOOD CAT - Lynne Banks Reid - Страница 8

4. More Badness

When David told his parents he was going to call his cat Peony, his father burst out laughing.

“That’s a funny name for a cat!”

“It’s a very funny name for that cat,” said his mother. “It’s a boy cat, and Peony is the name of a flower.”

That made David stop. But only for a moment. He could be quite stubborn when he’d made up his mind. “He won’t know that,” he said.

But it seemed as if the cat did know he’d been given a really un-boysy name. Because, when David put him down and said, “You like your new name, don’t you?” the cat showed what he felt about it by peeing on the floor.

David’s mum gave a shriek. “Get that cat out of here!”

David took his cat into the other room and sat him on his knee, stroking him. He seemed to like it best when David did a long, slow stroke from his head to the beginning of his tail, and then gave his tail a very gentle pull.

While he stroked, David thought hard. “Paloma wants to call her cat Peony when she gets one,” he said. “Maybe I’d better change your name,” David said.

“Would you mind?”

His cat purred loudly. Frankly, he couldn’t have cared less.

“Shall I just call you Tom, because you’re a tomcat?” David wondered.

But ‘Tom’ was too ordinary for such a special cat. Carrying his cat over his shoulder, he went to look at his cat book.

He’d already found a picture in it of a cat very like his – white, fluffy, with blue eyes. Now he read what was written under the picture. It said, “A typical Van cat from Turkey.”

“Van,” said David. “Van? No, I might as well call you Bus or Truck.” But then he thought, Turkey. Turk. Turk! He liked ‘Turk’. He loved ‘ Turk’! You couldn’t have a more boysy name than that, and it wasn’t ordinary, either!

“That’s it!” he shouted. “Turk! That’s your name! Here, Turk, come to me, Turk, Turk!”

Turk – and that’s his name from now on – gave his tail a shake, and peed on the carpet, just as David’s mum walked in.

“That’s it!” she screamed. She picked the cat up by the skin on his neck and carried him through to the garden.

“There,” she said. “That’s where good cats pee – outside!” And she slammed the back door.

“Mum!” cried David. “You said don’t let him loose outside before he knows where he lives!”

“He’s got to get trained,” she said. “I’m not having him peeing in the house. No, David, leave him now, he’ll be safe enough in the garden.” And she shooed him upstairs to do his homework.