He reached out a hand, wanting to stroke the fierce creature, but the cat jerked sideways and sort of weirdly crawled away from him, further from his outstretched hand.
“Just look at him!” the headteacher was nearly shouting. “Parents have been called in, and he doesn’t even look ashamed!”
Tommy stared straight into the furious headteacher’s eyes. The ten-year-old boy’s face showed not a hint of remorse for what he’d done. With a bored expression, he silently listened to Mrs. Whitfield’s demands.
“Burning the class register!” Her voice went up into a screech.
“Wait outside!” his father ordered sternly.
The boy left the headteacher’s office, slamming the door hard behind him. He didn’t care if they punished him again. He couldn’t have done anything else – he’d given his word…
As for his parents, they’d soon forget about him again, off on another research trip.
That evening, at a family meeting, they decided to send Tommy to his granddad’s in the countryside for the whole summer. Maybe the old man could find a way to handle the young rebel.
*****
“This is your daily routine,” George Sawyer, a former soldier, pointed to a sheet of paper covered in neat handwriting. “In the village there’s no time for messing around – everyone needs to eat and drink.”
“Am I a slave?” Tommy blurted out after reading the long list of chores.
George Sawyer smiled, appreciating the defiant look his grandson shot at him. Yesterday, his son had brought Tommy over, complaining non-stop about how difficult he’d become. Constant fights at school, complaints from teachers and the headteacher – all of it took time away from scientific research. Tommy’s parents had left for an expedition, relieved to dump their rebellious son on his granddad.
Days slowly passed, filled with unfamiliar tasks…
Tommy got up with the roosters, helped his granddad feed the spotted cow Daisy, four piglets, and the bay horse Archie. Fetch water, stack the chopped firewood, weed the vegetable beds…
The chores never ended, but Tommy had given his word that he wouldn’t complain.
“Is he watching me?” Tommy asked one day, glancing warily at his granddad’s favourite dog, a big Labrador called Ranger, who followed him like a shadow whenever he left the yard.
“He senses you’re not from around here – worried you’ll get lost,” his granddad replied with a hint of irony.
Tommy really enjoyed going fishing. The lad quickly got the hang of the rod, and after a couple of weeks, George Sawyer started letting him go to the river alone.
The best catch was early morning, when it was still cool. Tommy liked sitting on the bank with his rod, watching the sun rise and light up everything around. You definitely didn’t see that in the city!
One early morning, while he was settled on the bank of a pretty little river, Tommy noticed movement in the tall grass.
Somewhere nearby a frog croaked loudly, and a dog barked. Familiar sounds, but…
The grass moved again, and the boy decided to check it out.
Treading carefully through the tall grass, Tommy peered into the morning gloom but saw nothing. Deciding he’d imagined it, he was about to go back to his rods when he heard a faint, pitiful moan.
Bending down, he parted the grass with his hands, and a cat hissed at him fiercely, ears flattened in warning. The animal’s eyes told him to keep his distance, and the hissing was a clear threat.
“Oh…” Tommy gasped, startled. “What are you hissing for?”
He reached out his hand, wanting to stroke the fierce creature, but the cat jerked sideways and sort of weirdly crawled away from him, further from his outstretched hand.
Just then it got lighter, and Tommy saw bloodstains on the animal’s pale fur. A picture from the recent past flashed before his eyes – four older kids tormenting a tabby cat with a frostbitten right ear…
Tommy shuddered, shaking off the painful memory. The cat was injured – it needed help!
He couldn’t grab it with bare hands – it was angry and clearly in pain. Looking around, he found nothing suitable. He was wearing a lightweight jacket against the morning chill.
He slipped it off and approached the hissing cat:
“Here, puss, puss, puss! I just want to help you… Here, puss, puss!”
With its last strength, the cat darted away, but Tommy was quicker. He threw the jacket over the cat, carefully wrapped it up, and pressed it to his chest. Then he ran as fast as he could back home, forgetting the rods…
“Granddad, will the cat be okay?” Tommy asked for the hundredth time, anxiously staring at the door of the summer kitchen.
“Don’t worry – Mrs. Linford’s a vet, she knows her way around wounds,” George Sawyer said, ruffling his grandson’s hair. “Go fetch your rods for now; when you get back, we’ll have news.”
Tommy nodded and dashed to the river for the rods. He was in such a hurry he could barely catch his breath when he got back.
Just then, a small, slender figure appeared in the doorway of the summer kitchen – it was Mrs. Linford. The elderly woman said something to George Sawyer that made him smile happily.
“How is she?” Tommy blurted out.
“She’ll be fine,” Mrs. Linford replied. “Looks like a dog bit her… I’ve cleaned the wounds – now you need to look after her.”
“I’ll do everything!” Tommy exclaimed, and tears of joy and relief welled up in his eyes…
That evening, the lad didn’t leave the sleeping cat’s side. He made a makeshift bed from a box and an old blanket. He set out bowls of food and water nearby, then just sat and watched her sleep.
“You planning to sleep here?” George Sawyer asked.
“Can I?” Tommy asked hopefully.
“Better we bring her inside,” his granddad suggested.
They moved the cat into the room where Tommy slept and placed the box next to his bed.
Up close, the cat’s coat was a light beige with barely visible stripes.
Tommy sat on the edge of the bed, still watching his patient sleep.
“You know, grandson, when I look at you, I’m amazed,” George Sawyer said thoughtfully, sitting on a chair in the corner. “You’re not lazy, you’re clever, responsible, and you’ve got a kind heart. So why do you stir up trouble like you’re mutinying on a ship?”
Tommy looked at his granddad and just shrugged.
“That last stunt with the class register…” his granddad pressed. “You didn’t burn it for no reason, did you?”
“I gave my word, and if you give it, you keep it,” Tommy muttered.
He reached out and gently stroked the sleeping cat’s head.
“Who did you give your word to?” George Sawyer’s suspicions were confirmed – he’d never believed his grandson was guilty.
“There’s a stray cat that lives in the basement of the building next to the school. I’d feed him and talk to him, just like you do with Ranger,” Tommy explained, sniffling. “I dreamed of taking him home, but Mum and Dad didn’t want to hear about it… I gave my word to Whiskers that I’d always protect him.”
“And what happened to that cat?” his granddad asked quietly, holding his breath.
“Some older boys were tormenting him,” Tommy’s voice cracked. “I asked them to stop, and they agreed, on the condition that I burn the class register…”
“Little brutes!” the old man burst out. “Where’s that cat now?”
“A woman took him, the caretaker told me,” Tommy said, stroking the little cat again. “I wish I knew how Whiskers was doing…”
“You’re a good lad!” His granddad patted his head. “You kept your word – that’s right. But why didn’t you tell your parents?”
“They never asked,” Tommy answered simply.
Days passed… The wounds on Marshmallow – that’s what Tommy named the cat – healed. The little cat stopped hissing and eyeing people suspiciously.
Marshmallow accepted the care of the human who’d saved her life. Soon, prettier and noticeably plumper, she moved onto Tommy’s bed to sleep.
The lad’s dream had come true, but he often saw the tabby Whiskers with his frostbitten ear in his dreams. The cat would rub against his legs and purr loudly when Tommy picked him up.
“Where are you?” Tommy would ask the tabby in his sleep, but got no answer.
July passed, then August…
Tommy waited for his parents to come for him, but instead his granddad announced he needed to go into town on business. After finishing the morning chores, George Sawyer left the place in his grandson’s care and headed for the train station.
He came back in the evening, tired but pleased. He praised Tommy for keeping everything in order and, with a mysterious smile, called him into the house, where he’d earlier carried a large box.
“Come here, grandson,” George Sawyer said, pointing to the sofa. “Look who came back with me from town.”
Tommy walked in and looked at the sofa. He blinked a few times, afraid he was seeing things.
“Whiskers!” the boy exclaimed, carefully picking up the tabby cat with the frostbitten ear. “Granddad, you’re the best!”
The cat looked healthy and well-fed. Later, George Sawyer told his grandson how impressed he’d been by Tommy’s act, and he decided to track down the tabby, asking Tommy’s school for help.
It turned out that the caretaker had contacted a shelter to take the stray cat in, worried for its life.
At the beginning of September, Tommy’s parents arrived with the news that they had to leave for a long expedition, and the boy would have to stay with his granddad for a while.
They barely recognised the cheerful, lively child in the former rebel.
“Dad, you’ve worked a miracle!” Tommy’s father exclaimed.
“Learn to listen to your child,” George Sawyer said sternly.
As for Tommy, he was thrilled to stay living with his granddad and not have to be parted from Whiskers and Marshmallow.
The rebel had turned into the most caring and responsible owner for his pets.
Author: Ilona Schwander
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