Free Paws and Whiskers by Jacqueline Wilson

down the phone, ‘I don’t know where the vet is!’
    ‘Yellow Pages,’ snaps Stevie. ‘Local library. Ask!’ And then, in her gruff, gravelly voice, she goes, ‘Mustlook after him. Gave your mum a lot of pleasure. Not fair to let him suffer.’
    I wouldn’t! I wouldn’t ever let Mr Pooter suffer. I tell Stevie that I will do what she says. I will find a vet and I will make an appointment.
    Talking to Stevie makes me feel strong and confident. I can do what she says. I
will
do what she says. It’s for Mr Pooter.
    And then I ring off, and bit by bit my confidence starts to trickle away. Instead of feeling strong I feel feeble and useless. I’m not sure that someone of twelve years old
can
make appointments with vets. And even if they can, how am I going to pay? Vets cost money. I don’t know how much, but a lot more than my pocket money. What am I going to do?
    I look at Mr Pooter, trustfully gazing up at me from the bed, and I know that I have to do
something
. I wish Mum was here! But she isn’t. It’s up to me. I know what I have to do, I have to get my courage up and ask Uncle Mark.
    I go downstairs. Uncle Mark is in his shed. He makes things in there, bird tables and dolls’ houses and stuff, which he sells to people. Mum always said he should have been a carpenter instead of the manager of a DIY shop.
    I tell him that Mr Pooter needs to go to the vet. ‘He’snot eating properly. I think it might be his kidneys.’
    ‘Well, now, Lol, you have to face it,’ says Uncle Mark, ‘he is an old cat. I’m not quite sure how much they can do.’
    ‘There’s tablets,’ I say. ‘They can make him better.
Please!
Can’t we make an appointment?’
    For a minute I think he’s going to say no; but then he sighs and says all right, we’ll take him along. ‘I’ll ask next door, they’ve got a cat. They’ll know which the nearest vet is.’
    I settle down to do my homework, with Mr Pooter sitting next to me. I tell him that we’re going to take him to the doctor and get some medicine. I feel happier now that I’ve talked to Uncle Mark. But then I go downstairs to get a glass of milk and Uncle Mark and Auntie Ellen are in the kitchen and the door is open a crack so that I can hear their voices. I hear Auntie Ellen saying something about ‘Ridiculous expense’ and Uncle Mark saying ‘All she’s got’, and I know that they’re talking about me and Mr Pooter. I turn, and come rushing back upstairs and into my room, where I fling myself on to the bed and cuddle Mr Pooter as hard as ever I can.
    ‘I love you, I love you, I love you,’ I whisper, into his fur. Mr Pooter rubs his head against me, and I tell him that everything is going to be all right. I’ll look after him.
    I decide that I will make a start on
Three Men in a Boat
. It is about these three men who go off in a boat with a dog called Montmorency. I know that it is supposed to be funny because of Mrs Caton telling me how she found it hilarious, so I am trying to find bits that make me laugh. When I find one I am going to write it down in my special notebook that Mum gave me last Christmas. It has a beautiful silk cover, embroidered in bright blues and oranges and emerald greens, with scarlet flowers. I have the page already open, but so far I haven’t found anything. It is quite worrying as I am already on here . I have to find
something
funny so that I can tell Mrs Caton tomorrow. She would be disappointed if I don’t like her book.
    There’s a bit about Montmorency, saying how his idea of living is to collect a gang of the most disreputable dogs he can find and lead them round town to fight other disreputable dogs. And a bit where J, who is the man telling the story, can’t find his coat and grows very cross when none of his friends can find it, either. He says, ‘You might just as well ask the cat to find anything!’ Those bits are quite funny, I suppose. Especially the cat bit. I remember once when Mum had lost the front door key