Costa del Kitten

It was another rainy day. Chorley launched himself back through the cat flap after his usual morning patrol.

 

‘Harrow’ said Chorley announcing his arrival to no one in particular.

‘Chorley,’ said Alison. ‘How come, when ever it’s been raining, you always come home completely dry? Where do you go?’

That information was top secret – Chorley had no intention of revealing his whereabouts.

Mostly he sat under cars when it rained, but he did have some special hidey places that he liked to escape to.

One day Chorley was curled up on the on the desk dreaming about pilchards when he felt someone take off his collar and replace it with something else – much heavier and more clunky. 

Chorley having a snooze.

Chorley was wide awake now. He shook his ears, but this time there was no tinkling sound from the little bell on his collar. That had gone.

‘That’s Chorley tagged’ said Tristan to Alison. ‘From now on, we’ll be able to track his every move!’

Chorley’s new collar had a special tracking device in it which used a satellite up in space. It located his position and then sent the information to the computer so Tristan and Alison could follow Chorley’s movements as a small dot on screen.

‘We’ll solve this – 'why Chorley never gets wet when it rains' - mystery once and for all,’ said Alison.

That evening as usual, it was raining. As soon as Alison and Tristan heard the cat flap slap back into place, they ran upstairs to the computer and logged on, fascinated to see where Chorley went to on his wanderings. 

The computer screen flashed into action. ‘We’re on’ said Tristan as a map came up with a small red dot flashing in the middle. ‘That’s Chorley,’ he said pointing at the red dot.

‘The little monkey, he’s next door in the pub,’ said Alison with a chuckle. 

And that’s where he stayed for the next hour, chatting away to Disco Dave about nothing in particular.

Alison and Tristan left him to it for a while and went to have their tea.

When they went back to the computer, Chorley had moved. This time he was three doors down visiting the beautiful lady with the dark hair and nice smile. He was curled up on her lap purring contentedly.

The next time Alison and Tristan checked the computer Chorley was on the move again. The little red dot was flashing its way down the street. Quick as lightening Tristan stuck his head out of the front door, but in the dark all he could see was Coggles, the old Irish Wolfhound from the pub ambling past.

The little red dot finally stopped moving about half way down the street. 

Tracking Chorley on the computer.

And it stayed there.

And it stayed there.

Chorley didn’t come home all night.

In the morning, when Alison and Tristan checked the red dot on the computer, it was still in the same place.

‘I’m going to look for Chorley,’ said Alison, grabbing her hat and umbrella and making for the door. She was gone and down the street before Tristan could stop her. 

Alison knew roughly where the little red dot was, but wasn’t quite sure exactly which house it was. The first door she knocked on was opened by Ernie, the man with the round face who was always carrying eggs. ‘Hopscotch, nobly knees, porridge, pyjamas,’ said Ernie. Alison shook her head in confusion and went back out into the rain.

The next door belonged to Policeman Ant (who wasn’t really an ant – that was just his name). ‘No, I’ve not seen Chorley,’ he said, but I’ll be sure to let you know if I do.

Alison walked down the road knocking on doors, and while everyone knew Chorley, no one knew where he was.

At last Alison reached a big house with an orange door. ‘Strange’ thought Alison taking her coat off and wiping the sweat from her brow, ‘It’s stopped raining and it’s really hot – in fact it’s boiling.’

The door was opened by the ‘orange woman’.

‘Hello love,’ she said. ‘Have you come looking for Chorley? He’s out in the garden on the sun lounger by the pool.’

‘By the pool?’ said Alison looking surprised.

‘Yes love – haven’t you noticed how half way down the street, the sun is always shining? It never rains here. The only umbrellas we have are in our cocktails – we’ve created a tropical paradise.’

Lounging by the pool.

 

She was right, half way down the street the sun always did seem to be shining and now Alison knew why. She also now knew why the ‘orange family’ were orange. They all had an amazing sun tan.

Alison followed the ‘orange woman’ outside into the garden, squinting in the bright sunshine. There was Chorley, lying stretched out on his back on a sun lounger, fast asleep.

Chorley sun bathing.

 

‘Chorley .....,’ said Alison.

Chorley opened one eye, and then the other.

‘Haaaarrrrrrowwww’ he said.

‘So this is where you come to – and why you never come home wet, even when it’s been raining. Well I think it’s time to come home now.’

Chorley smiled at her as he jumped down from the lounger. He thanked the ‘orange woman’ before heading for the door. 

‘One thing that I’m still puzzled about Chorley, is how you manage to get back up the road to our house, in the rain, and still be bone dry.’

Chorley said nothing, but whistled loudly. 

The leaves in the hedge started to rustle loudly. Alison looked round in alarm as Coggles, the Old Irish Wolfhound from the pub shoved his big shaggy head through the leaves.

Chorley went and stood underneath Coggles and then they set off together walking back up the road in the rain towards home. Chorley didn’t need an umbrella, he had a ‘Coggles brolly’ to keep him nice and dry!

Chorley goes flying (8)

It was an ordinary Tuesday morning. Chorley was sitting on the roof of the shed with Boris and Alan, the two fat wood pigeons.

Chorley on the shed.

It was a cold and crisp Autumn day. The sky was bright blue and the leaves on the trees were just starting to turn russet brown.

Autumn leaves.

‘So what’s it like to fly?’ asked Chorley, licking his whiskers.

‘It’s great,’ said Boris. ‘You just stretch out your wings, give them a flap and off you go.’

‘Yes, and once you’re up there, you can see for miles and miles,’ said Alan. ‘And if you see someone below you, you can drop things on their head!’

‘Like what?’ asked Chorley. 

‘Well, the other day I dropped a muffin on Ernie’s head. Just as a joke you understand. Oh how he laughed!’

‘What did he say to that then?’ asked Chorley.

‘Oh, you know, the usual, ‘Muffins, doughnuts, barm cakes and Wensleydale’, or something like that. I haven’t got a clue what he’s talking about half the time.’

‘I wish I could fly,’ said Chorley with a sigh, ‘it sounds like a lot of fun!’

Chorley was just imagining himself flying around in the sky, when ......

‘Harrow – what’s going on here then?’ said Chorley.

‘Didn’t you see the notice outside the pub?’ said Boris. ‘There’s bungy jumping this evening at six o’clock in the car park. That’s the big bungy crane.’

‘What’s bungy jumping?’ asked Chorley.

‘It helps people to fly – they tie a big rubber band around your middle, winch you up to the top of the big crane and then you jump off and fly through the air until, ‘BOIIIINNNNNNGGGGGGG’ you reach the bottom of the band and bounce back up again. If you want to fly Chorley, you should give it a go!’

‘Hmmmm, maybe,’ said Chorley shaking his ears. The little bell on his red collar tinkled with excitement.

By the time the hands on the clock face had moved round to six o’clock, Chorley was in the queue waiting his turn to bungy jump. But word had spread and the queue stretched all the way around the one-way system in the village.

Chorley was still a growing kitten, which meant that he got hungry – a lot! Six o’clock was tea time. As the queue edged its way forward he found himself outside Pany’s chip shop.

‘Allo Chorley,’ said Mister Poppolopodos, the chip shop owner. ‘Is yew going to do the throwing body into sky thingy?’ 

‘Hello Mister Poppolopodos. Yes, I’ve been talking to Boris and Alan, the fat wood pigeons, and they say that flying is brilliant, so I’m going to give it a go. But its tea time and I’ve not had my meaty chunks yet. I’m so hungry and it’s making me feel a bit funny.’

Chorley hadn't had his meaty chunks!

‘Not be worrying Chorley,’ said Mr Poppolopodos. ‘Here is large battered sausage and onion rings to fill belly basket. Salting and vinegar?’

‘Wow yes please – thank you. Yum yum.’

Chorley wolfed down the large battered sausage and onion rings, rubbing his tummy and licking the grease from his whiskers.

By the time he’d finished his chippy tea, Chorley had almost reached the front of the queue. In front of him in the line were Disco Dave and all members of the ‘orange family.’

The crowd waiting for Disco Dave to jump from the crane.

Disco Dave had got specially dressed up for the occasion. Gone were his light blue denim jeans and jacket. Instead he’d dug out his best white wedding suit, spotty yellow tie and pulled his long grey hair back into a pony tail to stop it from flopping into his eyes when he jumped off the bungy crane.

Disco Dave waved to the crowd below as he was winched high up above the houses. When the crate finally reached the top, the crowd below counted him down.

‘Five.’

‘Four.’

‘Three.’

‘Two.’

‘One.’

‘AGGGAAADOOOOOOOO!’ shouted Disco Dave as he stretched out his arms, jumped head first and performed a perfect swan dive, before reaching the bottom of the rope and bouncing back up again.

‘Well done Disco Dave,’ shouted the crowd as Dave was lowered gently to the floor.

Next it was the turn of the ‘orange family’ who were all wearing big orange crash helmets.

‘We’re all going together. All three of us,’ said the ‘orange woman’ through her visor.

With that, the ‘orange family’ were winched up all together in the crane. When they got to the top, the bungy rope was wound tightly round all of them. The two ‘orange sons’ and ‘orange mother’ put down the visors on their crash helmets and as the crowd counted back from five, they gave an enthusiastic thumbs up sign.

‘MAAAGGGGGAAAALUUUUUFFFFFFFF!’ screamed the ‘orange family’ as they belly flopped their way through the air, bouncing back up again like a trio of giant rag dolls. They were beaming as they were lowered back to the ground.

‘That was wicked!’ said one of the ‘orange sons.’

‘Brilliant!’ said the other.

‘Cracking!’ said the ‘orange woman,’ looking for her teeth in the flower beds.

Next it was Chorley’s turn and he was starting to feel a little bit nervous. He was also starting to feel a little bit sick. He wished he hadn’t eaten the large battered sausage and onion rings now.

‘Come on Chorley,’ said the ‘Bungy Man’, I haven’t got all night.

Chorley got gingerly into the crane’s basket. Flying didn’t seem like such a good idea now. 

‘Maybe I’ll just go up and have a look at the view and then come back down again,’ he said to no one in particular.

Suddenly there was a flurry of feathers as Boris and Alan, the fat wood pigeons landed on the top rail of the crane’s basket. 

‘It’s really, really high up here,’ whispered Chorley.

‘It’s great,’ said Boris. ‘Look, you can see right across the roof tops to the Mersey River.’

‘I can’t do it!’ Chorley did a little onion ring burp!

‘Of course you can. Where’s that brave nearly grown up kitten who isn’t afraid of anything?’ said Alan. ‘Come on, we’ll do it with you.’

‘But you’ve got wings,’ said Chorley, sticking out his bottom lip.

Still, he had to hand it to them, the view once they got to the top was amazing. He could practically see Blackpool Tower.

Down below the crowd started counting him down.

‘Five. Four. Three. Two. One ....... JUMP CHORLEY, JUMP!’

‘Come on,’ said Boris and Alan. We’ll be with you.

With that, Chorley shook his ears, took a deep breath and jumped into the black space below.

‘PILCHARDS AND PRUUUUUUUUNNNNNNSSSSSS,’ yelled Chorley as he left his stomach behind and flew though the air.

‘This is great,’ said Chorley as he swooped down head first, the wind in his fur, with Boris flying on one side and Alan flying on the other. ‘WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!’

Down below, the crowd could hear him, but because Chorley had dark black fur, they couldn’t see him. All they could see were the reflective strips on his little red collar which sparkled in the street lights.

Here comes Chorley in his fluorescent collar.

When Chorley finally stopped bouncing back up and down, he was lowered gently back to earth and onto all four paws.

‘Well done Chorley,’ shouted the crowd. 

‘Yes, well done,’ said the ‘orange woman’, I know you were scared, but you did it anyway. 

‘Yes I was scared,’ said Chorley wobbling off, ‘but I had Boris and Alan to help me.’

Chorley knew that he was very lucky. Not only did he have some really good friends, but he was the only nearly grown up kitten he’d heard of who knew how to fly!

Chorley stops a crime (7)

Chorley was a nearly grown up kitten of great mystery. 

I've got my eye on you!

Although he loved his new grown-ups, Alison and Tris very much, he needed more. There was a whole world of people and adventures to explore. 

While out on patrol, he’d pop back through his cat flap every once in a while to check his grown-ups were still there. 

‘Harrow! Haaarrrrow’ he’d announce. 

‘Harrow’ his grown-ups would shout back. 

Once he’d found them, he’d jump on one and then onto the other (he didn’t like to show any favouritism), purring and pushing his head against them demanding attention. 

‘I wish we knew where you went and what you got up to when you go off adventuring’, said Alison.

Chorley did indeed have many adventures, but that information was classified. Once he’d jumped over the wall of the yard, he was on very important and very secret business. Chorley Bucket was in charge of Neighbourhood Watch!

Chorley’s job was to patrol the houses in the local area and check for doors and windows that had been left open. 

‘An open door or window is like saying ‘Come on in and steal my stuff’. It’s just inviting crime’, said Policeman Ant. He wasn’t a real ant – it was short for Anthony.

Chorley was like an opposite ‘Cat Burgler’!

The street where Chorley lived was very friendly and people often left their back doors open so Chorley had a big job to do to remind them to be alert. 

One night Chorley spotted a young hooded human lurking in the alleyway at the back of his row of houses.

Chorley keeping watch.

‘Harrow  - who goes there?’ demanded Chorley. The hoodie said nothing and carried on walking towards the beautiful woman with the dark hair and nice smile’s back gate.

‘Halt – I said’ shouted Chorley. But the hoodie still ignored him.

By now Chorley had been joined on the top of the wall by Stanley the stripy snail and all Stanley’s snail friends. 

Stanley the stripy snail.

Chorley was very angry. He was so angry he saw red. 

‘Oh no you don’t, you potential thief’, he shouted. ‘Not on my patch!’ 

And with that , faster than you could say ‘pilchards and prunes’ he picked up Stanley who was sitting next to him and hurled him at the would-be burglar.

‘Take that!’ he shouted as Stanley (who was somewhat surprised) went flying through the air.

‘Oouuch’ said the hoodie turning around as Stanley’s hard shell hit him squarely on the side of his head. 

But Chorley wasn’t going to stop there. One by one he picked up and threw Stanley’s snail friends who were conveniently lined up on the top of the wall.

The would-be burglar hadn’t expected opposition like this. It was like being attacked by flying snails.

‘Stop-it, stop-it’ he cried as he ran away back down the alley. 

‘And don’t come back!’ shouted Chorley as he disappeared around the corner.

Once Chorley had calmed down, he remembered about Stanley and all his snail friends. He hoped they were alright. One by one the startled snails climbed back out of the alleyway and up onto the wall.

‘Sorry Stanley’, said Chorley. ‘Are you OK? Did you break your shell?’

‘I’m OK. But I think Reginald may have taken a hit’, said Stanley.

Poor old Reginald the snail was a sorry sight, with a big crack right across the back of his shell. 
 

'I’ll be alright. It’s only a little crack’, said Reginald.

Chorley quickly found the first aid box but it was too big to fetch outside through the cat flap. So he opened it up and looked for a bandage which he carried gently in his mouth back out into the yard. 

‘I’m sorry’, said Chorley again, once Reginald had been bandaged up.

‘Chorley – we all understand that you have a job to do. Keeping our streets safe is very important and we were happy to be part of your crusade against crime. My shell will grow back and mend’, said Reginald.

‘What have you been up to this evening then?’ said Alison when Chorley jumped up on the bed for his regular 11 o’clock check-in.

What's that on your paws Chorley?

 ‘Yuk – you’ve got snail slime on your paws’!

‘If only you knew’ thought Chorley. ‘If only you knew!’

Chorley gets a crush (6)

Chorley made a lot of new friends the evening he went to the pub to join in with the karaoke. From that evening on, he would regularly jump over the back wall, walk across the bowling green and after announcing his arrival with a loud ‘Harrow’ would settle himself down on his usual stool to join in with the conversation of the day. Some days it would be the football, others it would be the weather, it was always something different.

Harrow - what shall we talk about today?

Chorley felt that life as an almost grown up kitten was pretty good – his bucket was definitely half full and although he still thought about his mother, in the small town ‘up north’ with a lot of roundabouts, he needed her guidance less and less. He had his new grown-ups now who he liked very much, he had wise old Black-Jack with his white whiskers if he needed advice, he had Boris and Alan the fat woodpigeons to hang out with on the roof of the shed with and all his new friends in the pub.

The only thing that was missing from his life was a little bit of love, so one day when the conversation moved in that direction, faster than you could say ’pilchards and prunes’ Chorley jumped in for some advice.

‘Duck pond, bantams, geese, fencing’, said Ernie, the man with the round face who was always carrying eggs. Everyone immediately stopped talking, looked at each other, shrugged their shoulders and carried on where they’d left off. Nobody understood what Ernie was on about.

‘Well’, said Disco Dave, ‘If I like a lady, I like to sing her a little song and then treat her to a fish supper at Pany’s chip shop.

‘If I like a lady, I invite like to her to my house, where I make her a nice quiche’ said one of the son’s from the ‘orange family’.

‘You make her a quiche?’ asked Chorley with a chuckle, shaking his ears which made the little bell on his red collar tinkle.

‘I do’, he replied. ‘I use some of Ernie’s eggs and I even make the pastry myself – I roll it out with a thermos flask!’

‘Chorley’, said the other ‘orange’ son. ‘If I like a lady, I take her out for a drive in my fast car, then we I find a nice car park where we can sit and look at the view’.

Chorley was very confused – he didn’t have a car and he couldn’t cook a quiche. What was he to do?

At that point, the ‘orange’ mother piped up. ‘Don’t listen to any of them Chorley, if you like a lady then what you need to do is give her a present, preforably something shiny.’

‘Ah’, thought Chorley, ‘That’s more like it.’

‘Why are you asking anyway? Do you have a lady in mind Chorley?’ asked the ‘orange’ mother.

Chorley did as a matter of fact. He was just a little bit in love with the beautiful lady with the dark hair and nice smile who lived a couple of doors down the road. As the year moved on and the weather got warmer, the beautiful lady would often leave her back door open. Chorley always announced himself with a loud ‘Harrow’ but she didn’t always hear him. Often she would find Chorley fast asleep on her bed – Chorley just wanted to be near her.

The beautiful lady with the dark hair was always very kind to Chorley. He’d spend many hours sitting on her while she tickled him. He needed a way to tell her that he had just a little bit of a crush, so a present was a very good idea.

Chorley spent a long time wondering what he could hunt down to give to the beautiful lady as a present. 

First he thought about finding a pet mouse for her, but they all ran too fast for him. 

The mouse ran too fast for Chorley.

Next he hunted down an escaped meat and potato pie from Panny’s chip shop that had been half eaten and then discarded. But he ate it by mistake before he could get it home.

Finally he remembered what the ‘orange’ woman had said – something shiny. A light bulb came on in his head and with that, Chorley went hunting.

Chorley had never caught one of these before - it was going to be very tricky and he would need to make sure that he wasn’t noticed. 

Once in the pub, Chorley jumped up onto a stool to survey the room. In the corner he could see the members of the bowling club, deep in conversation, discussing tactics for the next match against The Rochdale Rollers. 

Nobody saw a nearly grown up kitten with a red collar and white chin, steal something from the table and make off with it, out of the door and back over the bowling green.

The next morning when the beautiful lady with the dark hair and nice smile opened her back door, she found a lovely, shiny present on her door mat. It was a packet of pork scratchings that he had bravely hunted from the members of the bowling club the night before. 

Although the packet had been full when Chorley took it, he’d managed to eat them all by mistake on the way home, even licking out all the crumbs just to make sure the packet was nice and clean.

The beautiful lady looked around and saw Chorley hiding in the trees.

‘Chorley, is this from you?’ she asked holding up the packet which glittered in the sunshine. Chorley looked at her shyly. ‘It’s lovely, thank you very much’, she laughed.

From that day onwards Chorley always bought the beautiful lady something shiny as a present. Sometimes he would leave it on her doormat, sometimes he would leave it as a special decoration in her flower bed, but he never forgot and the beautiful lady with the dark hair and nice smile loved him all the more for it.

I love you Chorley Bucket.

Chorley gets stuck in! (5)

When Chorley was six months old, Alison and Tristan promised to take him out in their canoe for a trip down the Mersey river, right out to the sea. This was a long and treacherous journey with many hazards. 

‘When you are in the canoe Chorley’ Alison said, you have to sit very still and whatever you do, don’t dig your claws in. The canoe is full of air so if you do it will go ‘POP’!

Chorley knew that only grown up kittens went down the Mersey river in a canoe, so he was very excited. He decided to start practicing sitting very still immediately and set about finding the nearest thing he could to a canoe.

First he found the laundry basket. He jumped in and settled himself down. He shut his eyes and held his breath. ‘One, two, three, four .......’ At that moment, Alison walked past the basket where Chorley was hiding. Although Chorley was nearly grown up, he was still a kitten, and kittens like to play! 

'Harrow'!

‘Harrow’ shouted Chorley as he jumped out of the laundry basket to surprise Alison who jumped a mile. ‘Chorley – don’t do that you naughty kitten’, she said with a start. ‘I thought you were practising sitting still. That’s not a very good start – you’ll need to try harder’. 

‘Hmmmm – I’ll need to try harder’ thought Chorley as he went exploring to try and find somewhere else to practise sitting really still. He knew it was very important to get it right.

‘Ahhh, this looks a bit like a canoe’ thought Chorley as he jumped into the bath tub to practise sitting very still. He shut his eyes and held his breath. ‘One, two, three, four, five .......’ At that moment he heard the fridge door open. ‘Dinner’ thought Chorley as his stomach rumbled and before you could say ‘pilchards and prunes’ he jumped out of the bath and raced down the stairs. 

'Dinner'!

‘Harrow’ he said as he sat looking longingly at his food bowl. Alison laughed at him, ‘That wasn’t very good either, was it Chorley. You really need to concentrate, or we won’t be able to take you out in the canoe’.

Chorley went out through his cat flap into the yard. Tristan was there building a brick BBQ. ‘Harrow’ said Chorley, going over to see if he could help Tristan with his cement. ‘Best keep away Chorley, we don’t want you to get stuck in the cement’ said Tristan with a chuckle.

Tristan mends the wall and builds a BBQ

Pushing the cement into the bricks

‘Hmmmm’ thought Chorley, ‘I’m no use to anybody today’.

Then out of the corner of his eye, Chorley saw a big blue bucket over by the shed. ‘I’ll show them’, he thought. ‘I’ll sit in there really still and prove to everyone that I’m grown up enough to go out in the canoe’. And with that he jumped into the bucket and settled himself down, ready to sit really still. The bottom of the big bucket was wet and sandy, just how he imagined a canoe to be, so he closed his eyes and held his breath. 

Oh no - Chorley stuck in the cement!

He’d nearly got to ten when suddenly, ‘Chorley, what are you doing?’ shouted Tristan. Chorley opened his eyes and tried to move, but he couldn’t, he was stuck. He’d been sitting in the bucket Tristan had used to mix the cement.

‘Oh no’ thought Chorley as he shook his ears and wiggled his tail. He was back where he’d started life, stuck in a bucket and it didn’t matter whether it was half full or half empty when it was full of cement that had set hard as stone.

Tristan ran over to the bucket and tried to pull Chorley out, but Chorley was stuck fast.

Alison dashed out of the kitchen and joined in, putting her arms around Tristan’s waist, giving him a hard tug while he tried to pull out Chorley, but Chorley was stuck fast.

The old cat, Black Jack heard the commotion and came over to join the chain of people trying to pull Chorley out of the bucket of cement. But Corley stayed stuck.

Boris and Alan, the two fat woodpigeons flew into the yard and grabbed onto Black Jack. Everyone pulled and pulled, but they couldn’t get any grip with their feet so Chorley stayed firmly stuck.

It was only when Stanley the stripy snail who lived in the flower pots joined in, that they started to make progress. Stanley used all his slime to make a sticky path which gave some grip for the rescue party.

Stanley comes to the rescue.

‘Right everyone, on three, pull really, really hard. One, two, three – PULL’. And so everyone pulled and with the extra grip provided by Stanley the stripy snail, they started to march backwards like a winning tug of war team. They felt Chorley start to loosen and then suddenly – POP! Like a giant champagne cork Chorley was pulled out of the bucket and flew through the air, landing on top of Alan, one of the fat woodpigeons.

‘Sorry Alan’, said Chorley. ‘Are you OK?’

‘Yes’, squeaked Alan, winded. He ruffled his feathers and made a hasty exit up into the tree.

Later that evening, they all decided to have a party to celebrate Chorley’s rescue. Tristan lit the BBQ he’d built that afternoon and cooked some sausages.

‘Well Chorley’, said Tristan, ‘I think we know now that you can sit still for a very long time. But if we put cement in the canoe, it’s very heavy and it will sink. Maybe we need to wait until you are a bit older before we go sailing on the Mersey river’.

Chorley was very disappointed and let out a big sigh. He was very unhappy about how the day had worked out. There was only one thing that would make things better and that was a sausage. So as soon as he thought his grown-up’s backs were turned he crept up and helped himself from the plate on the table. 

'Chorley - you are a naughty kitten', said Alison laughing. But Chorley wasn't listening.

‘Sausages will help me to grow up quickly’, he thought as he tucked in to the big, fat, juicy sausage and started to plan his next adventure.

Disco Dave and the Karaoke Kitten (4)

Before long, Chorley knew his way around the yards and alleyways like the back of his paw. It was his territory and he was The King. It was an important job keeping an eye on everything and Chorley took it all very seriously. 

He’d only had one rumpus and that was with cat called Black Jack who lived in the end house. But Black Jack was very old - almost as old as his long white whiskers. Black Jack had been ‘top cat’ for nearly a hundred years. He knew that it was time for someone new.  So instead, the old cat and the nearly grown up kitten became friends and Black Jack started to teach Chorley the ways of the world – like never to cross the big road at the front of the house.

Sometimes Chorley would sit at the front, hiding under the parked cars. But he always thought about Black Jack’s wise words and stayed away from the big road.

Bit by bit, Chorley started to work out just how the outside world fitted together – the houses and the roads and the shops. And he started to make friends with the people he met. Things were starting to make sense, apart from one thing that puzzled him greatly. The sky outside was often grey, except for one place which was halfway down the road. It was only one house, but above it the sun always seemed to shine. It was very odd – but just a bit too far away to explore at the moment. Chorley decided that he would wait until he was a fully grown up kitten before going to solve that mystery.

Black Jack belonged to the man with the round face who was always carrying eggs. His name was Ernie. 

One day Chorley was sitting underneath the cars at the front of the house, watching people’s feet, when Ernie walked past.

‘Harrow’ said Chorley.

‘Ahh – goslings, chickens, grandchildren, van, cockerels, pond’, said Ernie smiling, as he carried on past on his way to the pub with the big bowling green. Chorley didn’t have a clue what he was on about, but Ernie was friendly enough and sometimes fed him slices of ham, which made him one of Chorley’s favourite people.

Once a week, Chorley and Black Jack would sit on the roof of the shed with Boris and Alan, the fat wood pigeons. They would wait until the sun went down and the singing started. It came from the people in the pub and was a real cat’s chorus. The friends would sit there, swaying in time to the music and trying to join in. Chorley’s favourite was ‘It's got to be Puuurrrrrfect’!

One night Chorley’s curiosity got the better of him. ‘Let’s go and join in properly’ he said. But Black Jack was too old to jump over the wall and the fat wood pigeons were too scared. Chorley was so disappointed, he really wanted to go and join in properly.

‘Chorley Bucket, stop sulking’. Chorley jumped. It was his mother again in his head. Chorley knew what was coming – is your bucket half full or half empty? Things weren’t so bad, so Chorley decided to go solo, and jumped over the wall, crept across the bowling green and poked his nose through the open door into a big room with flashing disco lights.

The man his grown-ups called Disco Dave with his pale denim jeans and matching jacket and with his long grey hair and long white whiskers, was dancing with a microphone in the middle of the room. The room was full of people who were laughing and cheering. Chorley thought he could see Ernie and ‘the orange family’ in the crowd.

Dave pretended he was a rock star playing a giant air guitar. Suddenly he noticed Chorley peeping through the door.

‘Chorley, come in lad’ he said. Chorley was a very confident nearly grown up kitten and didn’t need asking twice and before you could say ‘pilchards and prunes’ he sped through the door and jumped up onto one of the speakers.

‘Would you like to have a go?’ asked Disco Dave. ‘I’ll hold the microphone if you like’. Chorley nodded his ears and the bell on his little red collar made a tinkling sound. ‘What would you like to sing?’ Disco Dave asked. Chorley was just about to say ‘Puuuurrrrfect’ when he had a better idea. ‘Harrow?’ he asked hopefully.

Black Jack, Boris and Alan, the fat wood pigeons had a real treat that warm summer evening as they sat on the shed and listened to Chorley, the Karaoke Kitten and Disco Dave performing together. 

‘Where have you been this evening Chorley?’ asked Alison when Chorley finally came back through the cat flap later that evening. Chorley tried to tell her, but he’d sung so much he’d lost his voice. So instead he purred and wound his way between Alison’s ankles until eventually she picked him up, turned him over onto his back and gave him a big cuddle, just how Chorley liked it. 

Chorley goes exploring (3)

One day, when Chorley was three months old, Alison picked him up in her arms, turned him over onto his back and gave him a big cuddle, just how Chorley liked it. He gave a contented purrdle. 

‘Chorley’ she said, ‘Today is a very important day. Today is the day that you are allowed to go outside’. Chorley knew what that meant and he could barely contain his excitement. He’d been waiting for this moment for ages. 

He was desperate to go and say ‘Harrow’ to all the interesting people he’d seen walking past the window. The ‘orange family’, the man with the round face who was always carrying eggs and the man his grown-ups called ‘Disco Dave’. These were just a few of the characters he’d seen while sitting on the windowsill. And then there was the beautiful lady with the dark hair. He thought he’d really like to say ‘Harrow’ to her. She had a nice smile.

A few weeks earlier Chorley had been very brave. His grown-ups had taken him to someone called ‘The Vet’. They’d put him back in the basket with the wire door and carried him through the streets. He pressed his nose right up to the wire, to see what he could see. Although he knew he lived in a city, what he saw looked more like a village with lots of shops and other interesting looking things. He made a special note to explore them all properly when he was allowed out by himself.

The Vet was very kind. She told Alison and Tristan that Chorley was growing into a fine looking cat. She gave him a big cuddle and before he could say ‘pilchards and prunes’ he felt a little prick. ‘Hmmm’ he thought ‘that wasn’t too bad at all’. The injection was to stop him from picking up germs – which is very important when you’ve got a lot of exploring ahead of you.

A few weeks later, Alison gave Chorley a bright red velvet collar with a little bell on it. Chorley thought he looked exceedingly handsome – with his shiny black fur and little white chin, he was very much the kitten about town. With that Alison opened up the back door and said ‘Off you go Chorley’. Chorley didn’t need telling twice and jumped right across the doormat.

But when Chorley stopped and looked around him - this wasn’t what he’d expected!

Although he was indeed outside, he was still trapped. He was in a yard with high walls and a back gate that was shut. He sat down to think. He could see glimpses of a bigger world. There were trees and there was blue sky, but to a little kitten the walls seemed huge. Surely they were too high to climb. Chorley’s didn’t want to stay in the yard, he wanted to explore as far as he could see and even further again. His heart felt like a stone. What was he going to do now?

‘Chorley Bucket!’ Chorley was startle! It was his mother – where had she come from? As he shook his ears trying to make sense of it all, the bell on his new collar made a tinkling sound. ‘Ahh’ he thought, she’s in my memory. So he closed his eyes and there she was. ‘Chorley Bucket – is your bucket half full or half empty?’ she asked. He knew she was right, things weren’t so bad really. He put his head on one side and thought about all useful skills he’d learned. Like climbing up the drawer handles in the kitchen to lick the roast chicken while his grown-ups weren’t looking. 

Chorley shook his ears again and with his little bell tinkling, got up and looked for his escape route. 

He explored every bit of the yard and finally discovered that he could squeeze himself into a little gap between the wooden shed in the corner of the yard and the wall. He wedged his back against the bricks and stuck his claws into the wood and hauled himself up, little by little, just like climbing a ladder.

It was very hard work, but Chorley was a very determined nearly grown up kitten. He wasn’t going to give up. He wanted to see what the rest of the world looked like. 

Before long Chorley hadn’t just climbed up to the top of the wall, he was sitting on the roof of the shed looking around, to see what he could see. He didn’t think about how he was going to get down, he would worry about that later!

This wasn’t what he’d expected either. When he looked to the left he could see three other yards, all joined together. When he looked to the right he could see one, two, three ......err......lots of other yards all in a row. But when he looked straight ahead, he could see the alley way that ran along the back of all the yards, then a big wall that looked about a hundred years old. Beyond that there were two leafy trees with silver bark. 

Beyond the trees was a square of the most perfect green he had ever seen with people rolling balls across it. Other people were crowding around the edges watching what was going on. Chorley thought he recognised the ‘orange family’, the man with the round face who carried the eggs and ‘Disco Dave’, all standing in the crowd watching the men rolling the balls. He looked for the beautiful lady with the dark hair, but she wasn’t there. 

Chorley jumped as they let out a big cheer. ‘I wonder what that’s all about?’ Chorley said out loud to himself. He was very puzzled.

‘Coooooo, Cooooooo – it’s called a bowling match’ said a voice. Chorley jumped again. It sounded like the tree was speaking to him. Chorley looked harder and in between the leaves he could just make out a fat pigeon. 

‘What did you say pigeon?’ asked Chorley. 

‘Actually, I’m a wood pigeon. There’s a big difference’. The wood pigeon sounded cross. ‘My name’s Boris and this is my friend Alan. We live in this tree and we watch the human’s rolling their balls all the time’. Another fat wood pigeon edged his way out from behind the leaves. ‘Coooo, coooooo, hello’ he nodded. ‘Alan’ he nodded again introducing himself. ‘We don’t understand why they do it either’ Boris continued. They all roll their balls and the one that gets the closest seems to win. They drink lots of brown water which makes them tell jokes and fall over – and then they come back the next day and do it all over again’. ‘And sometimes they sing too’ added Alan nervously.

Chorley decided to introduce himself. ‘My name is Chorley and I’m a nearly grown up kitten’.

‘Well Chorley, it’s very nice to meet you, why don’t you jump over and join us. You’ll be able to see the ball rolling game much better. Jump over meant jumping over the alley way from the top of the shed to the top of the hundred year old wall and into the trees with the silver bark beyond. It was a massive leap, even for a nearly grown up kitten. But Chorley wasn’t scared of anything. He’d been born in a bucket! So he looked straight ahead and focused on the top of the wall where he wanted to land.

Chorley launched himself from the top the shed across the alley way. But although he was nearly grown up, he was still a kitten and the alley way was very wide. He stuck out his claws, closed his eyes and hoped for the best. If it wasn’t for his strong claws, Chorley would certainly have missed the wall and landed in a heap on the floor. But he dug them into the wall and pulled himself up until his nose poked over the top.

‘Nearly there’ cooo-ed Boris encouragingly and with one final heave, Chorley was up on the wall. From there it was just a small jump into the tree. Chorley settled himself down to watch the ball rolling on the big piece of green, with his two new friends.

Suddenly, the air was full of screeching as five black and white birds with pointy beaks and a big black crow came flying towards the tree. ‘It’s the magpies! We’re off’ shouted Boris as he and Alan made a hasty exit. Chorley was left all alone to face the angry birds who, landed in the branches and quickly surrounded him.

‘What are you doing in our tree?’ screamed the big black crow who was clearly the leader of the gang. ‘Harrow’ Chorley started to say ‘my name is Chorley Bucket and .....’ ‘I don’t care what your name is’ said the crow, ‘you’re in our tree!’ 

Chorley tried to start again. He opened his mouth to say ‘Harrow’ but nothing came out. The magpies jumped around him on the branches, screaming at him ‘You’re in our tree, you’re in our tree’. Chorley panicked. He was sitting a long way up in a tree and he didn’t know how to get down.

Chorley tried to say ‘Sorry’, and ‘Leave me alone’, but again the words just wouldn’t come out.

Alison was upstairs in the house when she heard the commotion. ‘What on earth is that?’ she thought to herself. She went over to the window and was amazed to see Chorley sitting up in the tree being mobbed by magpies and a mean looking crow. She grabbed an old broom and rushed down into the yard. ‘Shooo, Shoooooo!’ she shouted and waved her broom at the birds who took to the skies screeching.

Alison called for Tristan who got a ladder and climbed up into the tree to rescue Chorley.

Chorley thought he’d had enough excitement for one day, so he didn’t complain when his grown-ups took him back inside. He knew that it wouldn’t be forever and so he settled down on Alison’s lap for a sleep – he needed all his energy for tomorrow and his next big adventure.