Читать книгу Max’s Adventures with His Loyal Friends - Марина Голомидова - Страница 3

On the night that the kittens were left there on the front porch of the house with the weathervanes, Hunter suggested that Tom could live in his study – but Sienna said she wouldn’t be split up from her brother, not for the world. Well, Auntie Jane’s was a big house, so it was decided that both the kittens could stay in the cosy little pantry by the kitchen. And it would have been hard to find a better spot! The walls were hung with aromatic herbs tied up in bunches, the shelves laden with jars of home-made jam and pickles, and hanging from the ceiling there were two enormous hams. Max set up a little bunk bed in the corner and laid down a soft woollen shawl. Sienna climbed straight into the top bunk, curled up into a little ball and fell asleep.

“Poor kitties!” sighed Auntie Jane. “Well, at least now they’ll have a place to call their own, and they won’t be abandoned again. And now I think I’ll make everyone some warm milk.”

Auntie Jane went into the kitchen, while Max stayed in the pantry. He sat down on the rug, picked up Tom and began to stroke him behind the ears. Tom started to purr with pleasure – and purred so loudly that he even woke up Sienna. She clambered up onto Max’s lap alongside Tom and meowed, “Oh, stroke meeee now… You’ve been scratching Tom’s ears for just aaaages…” Max started to laugh. “Of course I’ll give you a stroke too, Sienna. No need to get jealous!”

Tom turned to Sienna and started to groom her tail – she took great pride in making sure it was always at its cleanest and fluffiest, and Tom helped her keep it that way.

Watching Tom, Max could tell right away how kind and considerate he was. Meanwhile Sienna had rolled on her back and was starting to stretch out her little paws with pleasure. Then in the doorway appeared the neatly pressed creases of a snowy-white apron, followed by some cups on a silver tray – and finally Auntie Jane herself, her blond hair tied up in a bun as usual. “I’ve brought you some warm milk,” she said. “But don’t drink too much now, because there’s a celebration feast waiting for you. In honour of our new arrivals I’m making something extra special.” And giving them a loving smile, she headed back to the kitchen.

Before long, they were all gathered in the sitting room. On a long dining table, candles were lit – all in tall silver candlesticks elegantly cast with decorative roses. And in the middle rose a great big soup bowl, which gave off such a tantalising smell that every mouth began to water. “Pass me your bowls and I’ll serve you out some Norwegian soup. I do hope you’ll like it.”

And sure enough, the soup was delicious: swimming in the thick creamy broth were chunks of white and red fish, prawns, scallops, and even an enormous red lobster – which seemed to goggle its great black eyes right at Sienna. “He’s going to get me with those claws of his! I’m scared!” she cried, and she was ready to jump straight down from the table – but she calmed down when she saw Hunter haul the lobster onto his plate, flip it over and take out all the fragrant meat, leaving just the scooped-out, not nearly so frightening shell.

For dessert Auntie Jane had made ice cream. She brought it to the table in little glasses, all of different colours, and asked everyone to choose their favourite colour. Hunter took a dark blue glass, Matilda a clear glass with a white pattern, Tom a green glass, and Sienna a light blue glass with touches of violet. Max’s glass was the most striking of all – it was red, and the base shone with milky-white stars. The cats purred with pleasure as they tucked into their ice cream – so much so that Max couldn’t resist imitating them. “Ice crrrrrream! Ice crrrrrream!” he giggled. Sienna finished up sooner than any of them. She started kneading with her paws and sending pleading looks at Auntie Jane – who guessed what she wanted straight away. “Just don’t eat quite so fast, my dear, unless you want your throat to get sore,” she smiled, scooping out more of the vanilla ice cream for Sienna. “Now, who else wants seconds?” All as one, the other cats raised their tails to signal that they wouldn’t say no.

After dinner, Matilda took charge: “Now then, little ones, it’s time to have a quick wash, clean your teeth and get to bed!” Sienna immediately started to play up. “I don’t want to clean my teeth! And I don’t want to get washed either!” Hunter raised the tip of his tail in warning and said, “Let me tell you what happened to me when I was little and I didn’t want to get washed at bedtime.” He lowered himself into the armchair by the fire and – once more with the tip of his tail – beckoned the little ones closer.

Sienna and Tom sat down at Hunter’s feet. Their ears were pricked up and turned to listen. Max took up a spot on the rug nearby.

“When I was very young,” began Hunter…

…I lived with my mother and my brothers and sisters in a basement by the Thames. Our mum always taught us to clean our fur as often as we could – but we, if I’m honest, were none too keen on grooming ourselves. Not when there were tempting distractions everywhere you looked! Butterflies, grasshoppers, mice – we could have chased them all day long! Well, I decided that I didn’t really need to get washed, and I started to tell fibs. I’d tell my mother that I’d had a wash somewhere else. But after a few days, strange things started to happen to me: at first my ears started to itch, then my paws, my tummy, and then even my tail! It wasn’t nice at all, but I tried to ignore it. By the next day things had really got bad: my fur had got all tangled into a thick mat, and in the morning when I came for my milk, my own mother didn’t even recognise me.

“Who is this monster?!” she howled. “I’ve never set eyes on you before! Get out of my house, you gruesome beast, before my children wake up and die of fright!”

“Mummy, it’s me, Hunter! How can you not recognise me?!”

“How dare you!” my mother raged. “I’ll have you know my Hunter is a beautiful kitten with a coat as smooth as silk – he doesn’t look like a grimy slipper pulled out from under the stove!”

And she snatched up a broom and chased me out of the house. I sat in the road and cried my eyes out. Luckily for me, our neighbour happened to pass by – she was an elderly cat from next door. I threw myself at her:

“Miss Fanny…” – that was her name – “Miss Fanny, it’s me, Hunter! Help me – my mummy’s thrown me out of the house!”

“Surely not! How could it have happened?”

I told her about not washing, and how I’d lied to my mother, and Miss Fanny believed me straight away.

“I know what we can do about this. Come with me.”

I dragged along after her, and soon we came to a barber’s shop. The barber looked and me and shook his head doubtfully.

“I’ve never seen such a coat of fur. I don’t know if I can even get a comb through it…”

“Then what can we do? The poor thing’s own mother doesn’t recognise him. Please, think of something!”

“Right you are. I’ll just have to clip off the whole lot. You’ll have to be brave though, Hunter – it won’t be very nice.”

And for what seemed like forever he cut away at my fur – the same fur that used to be as smooth as silk. When I looked in the mirror I got a horrible fright: the creature staring back at me was so gaunt and bony. And I started to cry – because now there wasn’t a hope of my mother recognising me! But Miss Fanny said:

“Be brave for just a little while longer, my dear: your fur will grow back, and it will be quite as beautiful as before. And in the meantime you can stay with me.”

But I didn’t need to go and stay with our kindly next-door neighbour: we met my mother on the street that very day and she took me home. Somehow she immediately recognised me! Hmm… you know, I’ve never understood how she was able to. I won’t tell you how ashamed I was, how my brothers and sisters made fun of me, how I shivered with the cold and had to stay by my mother’s side just to keep warm – forget playing and chasing about! A sad tale indeed. But before long I’d grown back my fur, and I was the same old happy kitten with a silky coat – only now I’d groom myself as often as I could, getting washed not just in the morning and before bed, but any time I could find a spare minute…

“And that,” smiled Hunter, making a little circle with his tail, “is what happened when I didn’t want to get washed at bedtime. I hope it serves as a lesson for you too. Sienna, I’ve noticed how you take good care of your tail, but you need to groom every inch of your coat – and yes, you need to get washed and clean your teeth every night. And now, my young friends, it’s off to bed. You’re tired and you need your rest.”