The Cat Who Came in Off the Roof Read Free Page B

talk to cats?” he asked.
    “Yes.”
    What nonsense, thought Tibble. The woman’s quite mad.
    “And, er… how did you come to be able to talk to cats?”
    “I was one myself,” she said.
    Totally bonkers, thought Tibble.
    Minou had sat down in front of the fire, next to Fluff. They were sitting together on the rug and Tibble could now heartwo purring sounds mixed together. It sounded very peaceful. Shall I write that article about her after all? Tibble thought.
    Last night I provided shelter to a purring lady who entered my apartment through the attic window and, on being asked, informed me that she had once been a cat…
    I’d be out on my ear the same day, thought Tibble. Now he could hear them talking to each other, the young lady and the cat. They were making little purring, miaowy kind of noises.
    “What’s Fluff saying now?” he asked as a joke.
    “He says your peppermints are in a jam jar on the top shelf of the bookcase. You put them there yourself.”
    Tibble stood up to have a look. She was right.

3
The Tatter Cat
    “I still don’t believe it,” Tibble said. “You being able to talk to cats. It must be something else. Some kind of mind-reading or something.”
    “Maybe,” Minou said dreamily. She yawned. “It’s time for me to get in my box,” she said. “Can I take this old paper?”
    “Are you sure you don’t need a blanket or a pillow or anything?”
    “No, no, not at all. Fluff likes to sleep on your feet, so I’ve heard. Everyone has their own preference. Good night.”
    “Good night, Miss Minou.”
    At the door she turned round for a moment. “I heard a bit of news while I was out and about,” she said. “On the roofs here in the neighbourhood.”
    “News? What kind of news?”
    “The Tatter Cat is due to have another litter any time now.”
    “Oh,” said Tibble. “It’s a shame, but I’m not allowed to write about cats any more. They say it’s not interesting enough.”
    “Too bad,” said Minou.
    “Did you hear anything else?”
    “Just about Mr Smith being so sad.”
    “Mr Smith? Do you mean the school teacher? I was talking to him today. He’s the one who helped me get you down out of the tree. He didn’t look sad.”
    “He is though.”
    “That doesn’t sound like interesting news either,” Tibble said. “Is he just down in the dumps or is it something in particular?”
    “Next week it will be twenty-five years since he was made head teacher at the school,” Minou said. “He was really hoping there’d be some kind of festivities. An anniversary celebration. But, no.”
    “Why not?”
    “Nobody knows about it. Everyone’s forgotten. He thought people would remember… but they haven’t.”
    “Can’t he remind them?”
    “He refuses. He’s too proud. That’s what Cross-eyed Simon says.”
    “Cross-eyed Simon? That’s his Siamese.”
    “Exactly. He’s the one I spoke to. And he told me all about it. And now I’m going to get into my box.”
    She said a quick “
Mrow
” to Fluff. And Fluff said “
Mreeow
” in reply. That was probably “Sleep tight”.
    Tibble grabbed the phone book. It was much too late at night, but he still dialled Mr Smith’s number.
    “I’m sorry for calling so late,” Tibble blurted, “but I just heard that you’ll be celebrating an anniversary soon. Twenty-five years as head teacher. Is that right?”
    There was a long silence on the other end of the line. Then Mr Smith said, “So some people have remembered.”
    “No, cats…” Tibble was about to say, but he stopped himself just in time.
    “Of course they have,” he said instead. “How could anyone forget something like that? You don’t mind me writing an article about it, do you?”
    “I’d be delighted,” said Mr Smith.
    “Could I drop by to talk to you about it? It is
rather
late… but I would very much like to hand in the article tomorrow morning. Something about your life and about the school…”
    “Come straight over,” said Mr