He reached out a hand, wanting to stroke the fierce creature, but the cat flinched sideways and crept away from the man, away from the outstretched hand, in a strange, halting crawl.
“Look at him!” the headmistress was nearly shouting. “The parents have been called in, and he doesn’t even show an ounce of shame!”
Tommy stared straight into the furious woman’s eyes. On the face of the ten-year-old boy there was not a hint of regret for the deed he had done. With a bored expression he listened in silence to the questions of Mrs. Whitmore.
“Burning the class register!” Her voice rose to a screech.
“Wait outside the door!” his father ordered in a stern tone.
The boy left the headmistress’s office, slamming the door hard behind him. He didn’t care if he was punished again. He couldn’t have done otherwise – he had given his word…
As for his parents, they would soon forget about him again, packing off on another expedition.
That same evening, at a family council, it was decided to send Tommy to his grandfather’s village for the whole summer. Maybe the old man could find a way to handle the young rebel.
*****
“This is your daily routine,” said Edward Silver, a former soldier, pointing at 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?” Tommy blurted out after reading the long list of chores.
Edward smiled, appreciating the defiant look his grandson shot at him. The day before, Tommy’s father had brought him, complaining endlessly about how difficult the boy had become. Constant fights at school, complaints from teachers and the headmistress – all of it taking time away from scientific research. Tommy’s parents had left on an expedition, relieved to leave their rebellious son with his grandfather.
The days flowed slowly, filled with unfamiliar tasks…
Tommy got up at cockcrow, 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 work never ended, but Tommy had given his word that he wouldn’t complain.
“Is he watching me?” Tommy asked one day, glancing warily at his grandfather’s favourite, the big dog Rex, who followed him like a shadow whenever he left the farmyard.
“He senses you’re not from here – he’s afraid you might get lost,” replied his grandfather with a hint of irony.
Tommy took a great liking to fishing. The boy quickly learned to handle a rod, and after a couple of weeks Edward began letting him go to the river alone.
The best fishing was early in the morning, when it was still cool. Tommy enjoyed sitting on the bank with his rod, watching the sun rise and light up everything around. You’d never 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, and yet…
The grass rustled again, and the boy decided to investigate.
Stepping carefully through the tall grass, Tommy peered into the morning twilight but saw nothing. Deciding it must have been his imagination, he was about to go back to his rods when he heard a faint, pitiful whimper.
He bent down and parted the tall grass with his hands – and a cat hissed fiercely at him, ears flattened in warning. The animal’s eyes told him to keep his distance, and the hissing held a clear threat.
“Oh!” Tommy gasped in surprise. “What are you hissing for?”
He reached out a hand, wanting to stroke the fierce creature, but the cat flinched sideways and crawled away from him, away from the outstretched hand, in that strange, halting crawl.
Just then the light grew stronger, and Tommy saw bloodstains on the animal’s pale fur. An image from the recent past flashed before his eyes – four older boys tormenting a striped cat with a frostbitten right ear…
Tommy shuddered, pushing the painful memory away. The cat was hurt, it needed help!
He couldn’t pick it up with bare hands – it was angry and clearly in pain. Looking around, he found nothing suitable. He was wearing a light windbreaker against the morning chill.
Slipping off the windbreaker, the boy crept closer to the hissing cat.
“Here, kitty-kitty! I only want to help you… Here, kitty-kitty!”
With its last strength the cat tried to dart away, but Tommy was quicker. Covering the cat with the windbreaker, he carefully wrapped it up and pressed it to his chest. Then he ran home as fast as he could, forgetting all about his rods.
“Granddad, will the cat be all right?” his grandson asked for the hundredth time, anxiously watching the door of the summer kitchen.
“Don’t worry – Mrs. Brooks is a vet, she knows her way around wounds,” said Edward, stroking his grandson’s head. “Go and fetch your rods for now. When you get back, there’ll be news…”
Tommy nodded and ran quickly 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 slight figure of Mrs. Brooks appeared on the doorstep of the summer kitchen. The elderly woman said something to Edward that made him smile with relief.
“How is she?” Tommy blurted out.
“She’ll be fine,” Mrs. Brooks replied. “Looks like a dog bit her… I’ve treated the wounds. Now you need to look after her.”
“I’ll do everything!” Tommy cried, and tears of joy and relief welled up in his eyes.
That evening the boy didn’t leave the sleeping cat’s side. He made her a makeshift bed out of a box and an old blanket, placed bowls of food and water beside it, and simply sat watching her sleep.
“Are you going to sleep here?” asked Edward.
“Can I?” Tommy asked hopefully.
“Better we bring her into the house,” his grandfather suggested.
They moved the cat into the room where Tommy slept, setting the box next to his bed.
By the lamplight, the cat’s coat turned out to be a pale beige with faint stripes.
Tommy sat on the edge of the bed, still watching his charge sleep.
“I look at you, grandson, and I wonder,” Edward said thoughtfully, sitting on a chair in the corner of the room. “You’re not lazy, you’re clever, responsible, and you’ve got kindness in you. So why do you stir up mutiny?”
Tommy shrugged instead of answering.
“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 you give it, you keep it,” Tommy muttered.
He reached out and carefully stroked the sleeping cat’s head.
“Who did you give your word to?” Edward’s suspicions were confirmed – he had never believed his grandson was guilty.
“In the basement of the house next to the school lives a stray cat I’ve been feeding, and I talked to him, just like you talk to Rex,” Tommy confessed, sniffing. “I dreamed of taking him home, but my parents didn’t want to hear about it… I gave my word to Stripes that I’d always protect him.”
“And what happened to that cat?” his grandfather asked in a quiet voice, holding his breath.
“Older boys were bullying him,” Tommy’s voice faltered. “I asked them to stop, and they agreed – on condition I burn the class register…”
“Bastards!” the old man burst out. “Where is that cat now?”
“A woman took him, the janitor told me,” Tommy said, stroking the sleeping cat again. “I wish I knew how Stripes 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 Marshmallow – that was what Tommy had named the cat – healed. She stopped hissing and looking at people with suspicion.
Marshmallow accepted the care of the human who had saved her life. Soon the cat, now plump and pretty, moved to sleep on Tommy’s bed.
The boy’s dream had come true, but often in his sleep he saw the striped cat Stripes with his 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 he never got an answer.
July passed, and then August…
Tommy waited for his parents to come and fetch him, but instead his grandfather announced he had to go into town on business. After finishing the morning chores, Edward left the farm in his grandson’s care and took the train.
He returned in the evening, tired but satisfied. He praised Tommy for keeping things in order and, with a mysterious smile, called him into the house, where he had earlier carried a big cardboard box.
“Come here, grandson,” Edward pointed to the sofa. “Look who came back with me from town.”
Tommy walked into the room and looked at the sofa. He blinked several times, afraid he was dreaming.
“Stripes!” the boy cried, carefully picking up the striped cat with the frostbitten ear. “Granddad, you’re the best!”
The cat looked healthy and well-fed. Later Edward told his grandson how Tommy’s act had impressed him, and he had decided to track down the striped cat, asking for help at Tommy’s school.
It turned out the janitor had contacted an animal shelter to take the stray cat, fearing for its life.
At the start of September, Tommy’s parents arrived with the news that they had to leave on a long expedition, and the boy would have to live with his grandfather for a while.
They could hardly recognise the cheerful, happy child as the former rebel.
“Dad, you’ve worked a miracle!” Tommy’s father exclaimed.
“Learn to listen to your child,” Edward said firmly.
As for Tommy, he was overjoyed to stay with his grandfather and not be separated from Stripes and Marshmallow.
The rebel had turned into the most caring and responsible master for his pets.
Author: ILONA SHVANDER
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