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.
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