bank.
Domino had watched and listened with interest. To him it seemed that Sammy had become flabby and ineffectual. The Church Cat had put her spell on him. It would soon be time to oust the tabby from monopolizing Monty’s meat-bowl.
—13—
A savage at heart
Sammy’s vanity knew no bounds. Horrified as she was, Pinkie marvelled at his transformation. He no longer looked very much like her mate and now he even sounded different. She realized her only hope was to play some trick on him; to show him up for the sham he was in front of his snooty companion. If Sammy were to be rejected by the snobby Persian, he might come to his senses. But how to do it? Well, Pinkie thought grimly, she certainly had plenty of time to herself to devote to the problem.
She recalled Sammy’s comments. His words had stung. They had been cruel. She was very dirty, though, and she wondered how she was going to clean herself. She jumped from the high wall into some long grass which was soaked by the drizzle. By walking through it she wiped some of the mud from her fur.
She stayed half hidden in the grass. There were several people around on the towpath, but they posed no problem for Snowy, who was more than familiar with large groups of noisy humans. He came stepping purposefully along the edge of the path, his tail hoisted as a permanent flag of greeting to anyone who might show interest in him. He spied Pinkie and joined her.
‘I wasn’t sure if it was you,’ he fibbed. ‘You look more like a brown cat than a white one today.’
Pinkie gave him a sullen glance. She wasn’t going to explain her appearance for a third time. ‘If I lived as you do I could pass for a pub cat,’ she told him.
‘Oh? Do you have ambitions that way, then?’ Snowy asked guardedly.
‘Of course not. I told you before, I don’t like to be near humans.’
‘You get used to them, ‘he grunted. ‘This – er – mud is a sort of camouflage, is it?’
‘Very funny,’ Pinkie growled. Snowy smelt of cat food and Pinkie was reminded that she hadn’t eaten very much for some time. She could understand how the fox had felt when he had smelt Monty’s food on her breath. She didn’t want to be bothered by the Pub Cat just now, but he seemed to be enjoying her company.
‘Have you seen the tatty old fox again?’ he asked.
‘Yes.’
‘Good. Because I’ve worked out a way to get at those tormenting lop-ears.’
‘Not bunnies again,’ Pinkie sighed. ‘Why don’t you forget them? You don’t need them.’
‘I can’t forget them,’ Snowy answered fiercely. ‘They’re always there, tantalizing me, out of reach and getting fatter and fatter . . . Oh, if only the fox were here now, we could get it over with.’
Pinkie had an idea. ‘Look, if you’re set on eating rabbit, I’ve a much better plan. Come with me and we’ll catch rabbits a-plenty.’
‘Wild ones, is it? No, they’re scrawny by comparison. You and me and the fox can all profit by those lop-ears. You see, it needs an animal who can dig underneath the cage. Only the old fox could do that.’
Pinkie yawned. Snowy’s obsession bored her. ‘He wouldn’t come,’ she said categorically. ‘So I shouldn’t get yourself in a lather about it.’
‘I can think of a way that would persuade him to come,’ the Pub Cat said.
Pinkie was uninterested. ‘Really?’ Her thoughts were still too full of Sammy and the Church Cat.
‘I’d bribe him,’ said Snowy. ‘Promise him some of my food. Oh, I bet he’s never tasted meat like that in all his long-suffering life. He’d do anything for it. Only he won’t get any until he’s done what –’
‘Yes, yes. I get the drift,’ Pinkie interrupted. ‘Go and fetch him then. I’ll leave you to it. I’m rather tired.’
‘Where did you last see him?’
‘In his den.’
‘Where’s that?’
Pinkie explained. ‘I can’t guarantee he’ll still be there,’ she added.
‘No. No, I understand that. I must hurry,’ Snowy
Domino had watched and listened with interest. To him it seemed that Sammy had become flabby and ineffectual. The Church Cat had put her spell on him. It would soon be time to oust the tabby from monopolizing Monty’s meat-bowl.
—13—
A savage at heart
Sammy’s vanity knew no bounds. Horrified as she was, Pinkie marvelled at his transformation. He no longer looked very much like her mate and now he even sounded different. She realized her only hope was to play some trick on him; to show him up for the sham he was in front of his snooty companion. If Sammy were to be rejected by the snobby Persian, he might come to his senses. But how to do it? Well, Pinkie thought grimly, she certainly had plenty of time to herself to devote to the problem.
She recalled Sammy’s comments. His words had stung. They had been cruel. She was very dirty, though, and she wondered how she was going to clean herself. She jumped from the high wall into some long grass which was soaked by the drizzle. By walking through it she wiped some of the mud from her fur.
She stayed half hidden in the grass. There were several people around on the towpath, but they posed no problem for Snowy, who was more than familiar with large groups of noisy humans. He came stepping purposefully along the edge of the path, his tail hoisted as a permanent flag of greeting to anyone who might show interest in him. He spied Pinkie and joined her.
‘I wasn’t sure if it was you,’ he fibbed. ‘You look more like a brown cat than a white one today.’
Pinkie gave him a sullen glance. She wasn’t going to explain her appearance for a third time. ‘If I lived as you do I could pass for a pub cat,’ she told him.
‘Oh? Do you have ambitions that way, then?’ Snowy asked guardedly.
‘Of course not. I told you before, I don’t like to be near humans.’
‘You get used to them, ‘he grunted. ‘This – er – mud is a sort of camouflage, is it?’
‘Very funny,’ Pinkie growled. Snowy smelt of cat food and Pinkie was reminded that she hadn’t eaten very much for some time. She could understand how the fox had felt when he had smelt Monty’s food on her breath. She didn’t want to be bothered by the Pub Cat just now, but he seemed to be enjoying her company.
‘Have you seen the tatty old fox again?’ he asked.
‘Yes.’
‘Good. Because I’ve worked out a way to get at those tormenting lop-ears.’
‘Not bunnies again,’ Pinkie sighed. ‘Why don’t you forget them? You don’t need them.’
‘I can’t forget them,’ Snowy answered fiercely. ‘They’re always there, tantalizing me, out of reach and getting fatter and fatter . . . Oh, if only the fox were here now, we could get it over with.’
Pinkie had an idea. ‘Look, if you’re set on eating rabbit, I’ve a much better plan. Come with me and we’ll catch rabbits a-plenty.’
‘Wild ones, is it? No, they’re scrawny by comparison. You and me and the fox can all profit by those lop-ears. You see, it needs an animal who can dig underneath the cage. Only the old fox could do that.’
Pinkie yawned. Snowy’s obsession bored her. ‘He wouldn’t come,’ she said categorically. ‘So I shouldn’t get yourself in a lather about it.’
‘I can think of a way that would persuade him to come,’ the Pub Cat said.
Pinkie was uninterested. ‘Really?’ Her thoughts were still too full of Sammy and the Church Cat.
‘I’d bribe him,’ said Snowy. ‘Promise him some of my food. Oh, I bet he’s never tasted meat like that in all his long-suffering life. He’d do anything for it. Only he won’t get any until he’s done what –’
‘Yes, yes. I get the drift,’ Pinkie interrupted. ‘Go and fetch him then. I’ll leave you to it. I’m rather tired.’
‘Where did you last see him?’
‘In his den.’
‘Where’s that?’
Pinkie explained. ‘I can’t guarantee he’ll still be there,’ she added.
‘No. No, I understand that. I must hurry,’ Snowy
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