Free The Cat Who Came in Off the Roof by Annie M.G. Schmidt

Crippled and up against a dog like that… You haven’t got a chance. But I clawed him on the nose and that made him back up for a moment. And when the horrible thing attacked again I suddenly thought of my litter of babies here and that got me up over the hedge.
How
I don’t know, but I made it.”
    “And how’s walking going now?” Minou asked.
    “Lousy. I just drag myself around at a snail’s pace. But I’ll get over it. It’s all part of the game. That’s the life of a stray. Anyway, at least I’m glad I gave that disgusting dog a scratch he won’t forget in a hurry.”
    “What’s the dog called?” Minou asked.
    “Mars.”
    “What?”
    “Oh, you know him, do you?”
    “I know him.” Minou said, “… but then it must have been his owner who hit you?”
    “Yes, of course, that’s what I’m telling you. Ellmore he’s called. He’s the owner of the Deodorant Factory. Where my son, the Deodorant Cat, lives.”
    “He’s also the president of an association,” said Minou. “The Animal Lovers’ Association.”
    “And there you have it,” the Tatter Cat mocked. “The same old story, no surprise there. Humans… they’re all scum.”
     
    “That’s terrible,” Bibi said after hearing the story. “What a horrible man. The poor Tatter Cat.”
    “You should go visit her,” Minou said. “You know where she is.”
    “Yes, I’ve already been there once. In the old caravan. Do you think she’d mind if I took a few photos of her babies?”
    Bibi took her camera with her everywhere and was constantly snapping photos. The pictures were mostly very crooked, but they were all in focus.
    Bibi and Minou had become good friends. Now they were sitting together on a bench in the park.
    “Did Tibble put it in the paper?” Bibi asked. “I mean about Mr Ellmore and the Tatter Cat?”
    “No,” Minou said. “He’s not allowed to write about cats. That’s what he said.”
    “But this isn’t just about cats! It’s about the… the president of… what was it called again?”
    “The Animal Lovers’ Association.”
    “Well, that should go straight in the paper. A man like that crippling a poor mother cat.”
    “Yes, I think so too,” said Minou, “but Tibble doesn’t want to.”
    She looked past Bibi at the low-hanging branch of an elm. Bibi followed her gaze. A little bird was sitting there, singing. Bibi turned back to Minou and was shocked… There was a very unpleasant look in her eye… just like that time with the mouse…
    “
Minou
!” Bibi screamed.
    Minou jumped.
    “I didn’t do anything,” she said. But she had a very guilty expression on her face.
    “It’s absolutely not allowed, remember that,” Bibi said. “Birds are just as nice as cats.”
    “When I used to live in Victoria Avenue…” Minou said dreamily.
    “When you lived where?”
    “Victoria Avenue. As a cat. I used to catch birds… Behind the house, next to the patio, there was a golden chain tree… That’s where I caught most of them and they were so…”
    “I’m not listening any more,” Bibi shouted, running off with her camera.

10
Cats Aren’t Witnesses
    â€œI don’t understand,” Minou said for the umpteenth time. “This
has
to go in the paper: Tatter Cat Crippled by the President of the Animal Lovers’ Association.”
    â€œNo,” said Tibble. “‘Cats aren’t news,’ that’s what my boss says.”
    â€œHitting a poor old mother cat with a bottle!” said Minou. “She might never recover.”
    â€œI’m not entirely surprised,” Tibble said hesitantly, “at someone losing their temper when they suddenly see a stray cat standing on their salmon. And I
can
imagine them grabbing whatever’s at hand to knock it off the table.”
    â€œReally?” said Minou, giving Tibble such a vicious look that he stepped back out of range of her nails.
    â€œIn any case, it’s not something for the paper,” he said.