Paws and Whiskers Read Online Free PDF Page B

you have a pet cat, you’ll know they have an extraordinary ability to disappear. One minute they’re right in front of you, stretching or yawning or idly washing themselves – then you read a few sentences of your book and glance up again and they’ve completely vanished. You look in all their favourite places around the house: the back of the sofa, the cosiest chair, the pile of ironing, under or on top of your bed, but they’re not anywhere.
    You wonder if they’ve sneaked out through the cat flap into the garden, so you go and look in every bush and peer up every tree, and they’re not there either. So you repeat the whole process several times, and there’s not the faintest trace of your cat. You sit down again, heart beating fast, trying not to worry but worrying anyway, in case your cat has managed to trap itself inthe basement or a neighbour’s garage or has somehow strayed onto the road. And then, suddenly
, there
is your cat, right in front of you, miaowing nonchalantly, appearing again out of nowhere.
    I’ve often thought cats might have the ability to make themselves invisible – but until I read
Catwings
by Ursula K. Le Guin I’d never thought that they might be able to
fly.
I absolutely love this story about four American kittens, born into a bad neighbourhood, who grow little furry wings and soar up into the air to get away from growling dogs – although the owl is a more frightening enemy.
    I’ve checked my kitten Lily’s back very carefully just in case she might be sprouting tiny furry wings. There’s no sign of them so far – but you never know!

     

CATWINGS
    1
    Mrs Jane Tabby could not explain why all four of her children had wings.
    ‘I suppose their father was a fly-by-night,’ a neighbor said, and laughed unpleasantly, sneaking round the dumpster.
    ‘Maybe they have wings because I dreamed, before they were born, that I could fly away from this neighborhood,’ said Mrs Jane Tabby. ‘Thelma, your face is dirty; wash it. Roger, stop hitting James. Harriet, when you purr, you should close your eyes part way and knead me with your front paws; yes, that’s the way. How is the milk this morning, children?’
    ‘It’s very good, Mother, thank you,’ they answered happily. They were beautiful children, well brought up. But Mrs Tabby worried about them secretly. It really was a terrible neighborhood, and getting worse. Car wheels and truck wheels rolling past all day – rubbish and litter – hungry dogs – endless shoes and boots walking, running, stamping, kicking – nowhere safe and quiet, and less and less to eat. Most of the sparrows had moved away. The rats were fierce and dangerous; the mice were shy and scrawny.
    So the children’s wings were the least of Mrs Tabby’s worries. She washed those silky wings every day, along with chins and paws and tails, and wondered about them now and then, but she worked too hard finding food and bringing up the family to think much about things she didn’t understand.
    But when the huge dog chased little Harriet and cornered her behind the garbage can, lunging at her with open, white-toothed jaws, and Harriet with one desperate mew flew straight up into the air and over the dog’s staring head and lighted on the rooftop – then Mrs Tabby understood.
    The dog went off growling, its tail between its legs.
    ‘Come down now, Harriet,’ her mother called. ‘Children, come here please, all of you.’
    They all came back to the dumpster. Harriet was still trembling. The others all purred with her till she was calm, and then Mrs Jane Tabby said: ‘Children, I dreamed a dream before you were born, and I see now what it meant. This is not a good place to grow up in, and you have wings to fly from it. I want you to do that. I know you’ve been practicing. I saw James flying across the alley last night – and yes, I saw you doing nose dives, too, Roger. I think you are ready. I want you to have a good dinner and fly away – far