Fluffy lay in a comfy cat basket in the conservatory of the Manning’s house. During his convalescence Fluffy lacked for nothing. The vet had removed two small metal pellets from Fluffy’s body, one form his head and one from his chest. Air gun pellets probably. The cat was very lucky to be alive. For a couple of weeks he had hardly been able to move. Helen took her nursing duties very seriously. Fluffy wasn’t yet able to eat much in the way of solids but he always had a saucer of fresh milk and a few cat treats. Helen would carry Fluffy over to the saucer and make sure that he licked up at least a few drops. Fluffy was gradually getting stronger. He would sit up and lick his paws and even walk around a bit. Fluffy had been a good name after all because Fluffy had a nice fluffy coat. And now he was getting back to health it was getting nice and shiny. Mummy and Daddy were getting used to having Fluffy around. They had taken Fluffy to the vet. The vet was nice.
“This cat is very lucky to be alive,” she said.
“A cat has nine lives,” said Helen.
“Then he must have used a few of them up,” said the vet. Then they had gone home.
About ten days after the vet’s someone rang the front doorbell. Mummy answered the door. It was two men.
“Good morning. Sorry to disturb you. We were wondering if you’ve seen a brown tabby cat?”
Fluffy was lying in his basket when the bell rang. His ears twitched a bit. When the men spoke he went really strange. His ears shot back his eyes went right open and his body tensed. He froze in that position.
“Have a look,” said one of the men. “I’m sorry,” said mummy, “I haven’t seen a cat like that.”
“If you do give me a ring on this number,” said one of the men.
“Yes of course I will,” said mummy.
Then the men went away.
Mummy came into the conservatory.
“How is little Fluffy?” she said.
“Fluffy is getting better mummy. Soon he’ll be able to go out into the garden.”
“That’s great sweetie,” mummy said. Fluffy was here to stay.