He stretched out his hand, meaning to stroke the fierce animal, but the cat jerked sideways and crawled away from him in a strange way, getting as far as possible from his outstretched hand.
“Look at him!” the headteacher almost shouted. “We’ve called his parents, and he doesn’t even feel ashamed!”
Tommy looked straight into the angry headteacher’s eyes. The ten-year-old boy’s face showed not a hint of regret for what he’d done. With a bored expression, he silently listened to Angela Edwards’s questions.
“Burning the class register!” the headteacher’s voice rose to a shriek.
“Wait outside the door!” his father ordered in a strict tone.
The boy left the headteacher’s office, slamming the door loudly. He didn’t care if they punished him again. He couldn’t have acted any other way – he’d given his word.
As for his parents, they’d soon forget about him again, off on another expedition.
That same evening, the family council decided to send Tommy to the village to stay with his grandfather for the whole summer. Maybe he could find a way to control the young rebel.
*****
“Here’s your daily schedule,” George Saville, a former soldier, pointed to a sheet of paper covered in neat handwriting. “In the village there’s no time for fooling around. Everyone needs to eat and drink.”
“Am I a slave?” burst out Tommy when he read the long list of chores.
George Saville smiled, appreciating the warlike look his grandson shot his way. Yesterday, his son had brought Tommy over, complaining non-stop to his father 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 leave their rebel son with his grandfather.
The days passed slowly, filled with unfamiliar tasks.
Tommy got up with the roosters, helped his grandfather feed the spotted cow Daisy, the 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 he wouldn’t complain.
“Is he watching me?” Tommy once asked, glancing warily at his grandfather’s large dog, Rex, who shadowed him whenever he left the yard.
“He senses you’re not from here,” his grandfather replied with mild irony. “He’s afraid you’ll get lost.”
Tommy really enjoyed going fishing. The boy quickly learned to handle a rod, and after a couple of weeks, George Saville let him go to the river alone.
The best catch was early in the morning, when it was still cool. Tommy liked sitting with his rod on the bank, watching the sun rise, lighting everything around. You wouldn’t see that in the city!
One early morning, settled with his rods on the bank of a picturesque 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.
Stepping carefully through the tall grass, Tommy peered into the morning twilight but saw nothing. Deciding he’d imagined it, he was about to go back to his rods when he heard a faint, pitiful moan.
He bent down and parted the tall grass with his hands. A cat hissed fiercely at him, ears flattened in warning. The animal’s eyes told him to keep his distance, and the hissing was a clear threat.
“Oh!” Tommy exclaimed in surprise. “What are you hissing for?”
He stretched out his hand to stroke the fierce animal, but the cat jerked sideways and crawled away from him in a strange way, getting as far as possible from his outstretched hand.
It was getting 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 striped tomcat with a frostbitten right ear.
Tommy shuddered, shaking off the painful memory. The cat was injured; it needed help!
He couldn’t pick it up with bare hands – it was angry and clearly in pain. He looked around but found nothing suitable. He was wearing a light windbreaker against the morning chill.
Slipping off his windbreaker, the boy approached the hissing cat:
“Here, kitty kitty! I only want to help you… Here, kitty kitty!”
With its last strength, the cat lunged sideways, but Tommy was quicker. Covering the cat with the windbreaker, he wrapped it carefully and pressed it to his chest. Then he ran home as fast as he could, forgetting his rods.
“Granddad, will the cat be okay?” his grandson asked for the hundredth time, anxiously staring at the door of the summer kitchen.
“Don’t worry. Angelina knows about wounds – she’s a vet,” George Saville patted his grandson’s head. “Go get your rods for now. When you come back, there’ll be news.”
Tommy nodded and quickly ran to the river for his rods. He was in such a hurry he could barely catch his breath when he got back home.
At that moment, the slender figure of Angelina appeared in the doorway of the summer kitchen. The elderly woman said something to George Saville, and he smiled happily.
“How is she?” Tommy burst out.
“She’ll be fine,” Angelina replied. “Looks like a dog bit her… I’ve treated the wounds. Now you take care of her.”
“I’ll do everything!” Tommy exclaimed, tears of joy and relief welling up in his eyes.
That evening, the boy didn’t leave the sleeping cat’s side. He made her a makeshift bed from a box and an old blanket. He set out bowls of food and water nearby and just sat watching her sleep.
“Are you going to sleep here?” George Saville asked.
“Can I?” Tommy asked hopefully.
“Better we take her into the house,” his grandfather suggested.
They moved the cat into the room where Tommy slept and placed the box next to his bed.
On closer inspection, the cat’s coat was a light beige with barely visible stripes.
Tommy sat on the edge of the bed, still watching his charge sleep.
“You know, I look at you, grandson, and I’m amazed,” George Saville said thoughtfully, sitting on a chair in the corner of the room. “You’re not lazy, you’re clever, responsible, and you have kindness in you. So why do you cause a mutiny on the ship?”
Tommy looked at his grandfather and shrugged in reply.
“That last stunt of yours with the class register… You didn’t just burn it for no reason, did you?”
“I gave my word, and if I give it, I have to keep it,” Tommy muttered.
He reached out and gently stroked the sleeping cat’s head.
“Who did you give your word to?” George Saville’s suspicions were confirmed; he hadn’t believed his grandson was guilty.
“There’s a stray cat living in the basement of the building next to the school. I used to feed him and talk to him, just like you talk to Rex,” Tommy explained, sniffling. “I dreamed of taking him home, but my parents wouldn’t even listen. I gave my word to Whiskers that I’d always protect him.”
“And what happened to that cat?” his grandfather asked in a quiet voice, holding his breath.
“Some older boys were tormenting him,” Tommy’s voice trembled. “I asked them to stop. They agreed, but only if I burned the class register.”
“Bastards!” the old man exclaimed. “Where is that cat now?”
“A woman took him, the janitor told me,” Tommy said, stroking the cat again. “I’d really like to know how Whiskers is doing.”
“You did well!” his grandfather 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 Molly – that’s what Tommy called the cat – healed. She stopped hissing and eyeing people suspiciously.
Molly accepted the care of the human who’d saved her life. Soon, prettier and noticeably heavier, she moved to sleep on Tommy’s bed.
The boy’s dream had come true, but often in his sleep he saw the striped Whiskers with the frostbitten ear. The cat would rub against his legs and purr loudly when Tommy picked him up.
“Where are you?” Tommy would ask the striped cat in his dream, but got no answer.
July passed, then August.
Tommy waited for his parents to come for him, but instead his grandfather announced that he needed to go to the city on business. After finishing the morning chores, George Saville left the household to his grandson and headed for the train station.
He returned in the evening, tired but pleased. He praised his grandson for keeping things in order and, smiling mysteriously, called him into the house, where he had earlier brought a large box.
“Come here, grandson,” George Saville pointed to the sofa. “Look who came back from the city with me.”
Tommy entered the room and looked at the sofa. He blinked several times, afraid he was imagining it.
“Whiskers!” the boy cried, carefully picking up the striped tomcat with the frostbitten ear. “Granddad, you’re the best!”
The cat looked healthy and well-fed. Later, George Saville told his grandson how impressed he’d been by Tommy’s actions, and he’d decided to find the striped cat, enlisting the help of Tommy’s school.
It turned out that the janitor had asked a shelter to take the stray cat, fearing for its life.
At the beginning of September, Tommy’s parents arrived with the news that they had to leave on a long expedition, and the boy would have to stay with his grandfather for a while.
His parents hardly recognised the cheerful, happy child as the former rebel.
“Dad, you’ve worked a miracle!” Tommy’s father exclaimed.
“Learn to listen to your child,” George Saville said sternly.
As for Tommy, he was delighted to stay with his grandfather and not have to part with Whiskers and Molly.
The rebel had turned into the most caring and responsible master for his pets.
Author: Ilona Schwander
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