This came to me in a dream, complete, nearly 10 years ago, and I just came across it again.
This is the introduction to the world of Hotfoot the cat, and I haven't written anything about it since. Don't know where it came from as I didn't have a cat at that time, but my question is - should I continue the adventures of Hotfoot?
Hotfoot was hot. It
was one of those sticky summer days when sensible cats find a cool spot and
just s-p-r-a-w-l. Hotfoot was sprawling
in the shade under his favourite tree.
He stretched out his legs – first front and then back – and thought how
the word s-p-r-a-w-l-i-n-g must have been invented for cats.
S-p-r-a-a-a-w-l-i-n-g with a curly tail at the end, just like
his. A good cat-word. Hotfoot was surprisingly well-educated for a
cat. He put this down to his human
family’s habit of reading aloud to him from their story books, and even
sometimes from the newspapers. Strange
how humans liked to have an audience or someone to share jokes and stories
with. And, after all, Hotfoot was a very
patient listener. With one ear tuned to
the reading and the other tuned to pick up any odd noises – after all, you
never knew when there might be a mouse passing by – he would peer over their
shoulders at the pictures and word-shapes as they read, and over time he could
recognise words and pictures himself.
Hotfoot took this in his stride. Like all cats, he did not see any point in
putting a lot of effort into anything, except, of course, when it came to
hunting. And so, picking up the odd
human skill here and there just came in the course of his normal routine.
Flicking his tail at a stray fly, Hotfoot licked his left
paw and wiped it delicately over his silky black face. Feeling the softness of his paw with its
talons sheathed, reminded him of how he got his name – Hotfoot. A strange name for a sophisticated cat like
him, but one he now tolerated with good humour as it was a constant reminder of
what not to do!
So, how did Hotfoot get his name? Well, it wasn’t so long ago that Hotfoot was
a cuddly black kitten with a huge curiosity to explore every aspect of his new
home. Everywhere and everything was
uncharted territory, waiting to be explored and conquered. The kitchen, in particular, was very
enticing; full of good food smells, it made his nose tingle and his mouth water. He could feel that tingle now, his mouth
watering just at the thought of food.
But he looked up at the sun through the trees and realised from its
position, that it wasn’t mealtime for quite a while. Hotfoot could tell the time too – he didn’t
need a watch; he just listened to his stomach.
The kitchen was a place full of promise when he was small,
especially the high places way up above him – oh, so inviting in their
mystery. But he was far too small to
jump up so high and could only sit and gaze longingly up, occasionally pulling
his shoulders down and wriggling his bottom as if he was about to make that
leap into the unknown. But he always
thought better of it – he couldn’t even see where he would land, even if he
managed to jump that far.
But one day, his luck was in. Someone had moved the waste bin while
cleaning the floor and it was right next to the cupboards, providing a half way
point to the worktop beyond.
“Aah”, he thought, “Now’s my chance”. And, hunching low, and
wriggling his bottom, he launched himself into the air and gripped the top of
the bin, his claws slipping on the shiny surface. He almost – almost – slid back down, his hind
legs hanging awkwardly over the side, but with an effort driven by his huge
curiosity he pulled himself up.
Giving himself a moment to catch his breath and make himself
secure, he again positioned himself for another leap – to that elusive
worktop. He didn’t have the best place
to jump from, but he did his best to put as much power as possible into the
push from his hind legs, wriggling his bottom for almost a minute before he
made the leap.
It was a bit awkward because he had to jump straight up, but
he launched himself at the worktop and managed to cling onto the edge with his
front paws and claws, scrabbling with his back legs to get a grip. With a final effort, he clawed his way up and
landed untidily and panting on the worktop.
“Wow”, he thought, looking back down over the edge. “This is really, really, high, but I won’t
think how I’m going to get down until I have to.” and he twitched his tail and swivelled
his ears and set off on his exploration of the upper kitchen.
There were lots of interesting things to investigate as he
looked around. Where to start?
Eventually, he decided to follow his nose and search out the most
inviting food smell. Being a kitten, the
chance of food was still first on his list, followed closely by comfort. Comfort had to come after food because he
couldn’t be comfortable with an empty stomach.
He raised his head, sniffed the air this way and that and
headed west. West was where the meatiest
smell came from and he licked his lips at the thought of a new taste
experience. His stomach growled in
response, telling him to get on with it.
So, ever obedient to the demands of his stomach, he set off across the
shiny surface to the source of that delicious aroma.
Nose raised and twitching, step by step he pursued that
appetising smell……………
Tiptoeing delicately around the obstacles he encountered –
the odd spoon, glass or plate that had nothing interesting to offer – he padded
towards his goal, spurred on by the grumblings of his stomach that had no
patience at all!
Even as a kitten, Hotfoot was never clumsy. He had the
ability to skirt around objects and through small spaces without leaving any
trace of his passage – a skill that came in very useful in his life when it
came to avoiding trouble.
“Hmm, I’ll explore all this later on, let’s get to what’s
important first”, he thought, as images of mouth-watering delights flashed
through his mind. Of course, being a
kitten, Hotfoot didn’t yet have an awful lot of experience of different foods,
so those images were very limited. His
diet so far depended on what his human family thought was best for him, and
while it was all so delicious (apart, that is, from the vegetable flavours
which did nothing for him at all), he had yet to experience the delight of a
stolen sausage or a morsel of fresh meat, a rasher of crispy bacon or the
discarded remains of a lamb chop. If he
had known what he had to look forward to, his eyes would have been spinning in
his head and his stomach doing somersaults of impatient joy!
But for now, all he knew was that the tantalising smell that
was drawing him on definitely represented food – always number one on his wish
list, unless, of course, his little stomach had already been satisfied and had
settled down into gentle rumbles instead of angry growls.
Eyes half closed to slits as he followed his nose, Hotfoot
neglected to look where he was placing his feet..........
