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.

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.

Chorley Finds his Paws (2)

Chorley didn’t miss his old grown-ups one bit. He had his very own, new grown-ups now.

He didn’t particularly like being put in a basket with wires on the front for the journey down the motorway. He wanted to see where he was going and called ‘wooowt, wooowt, wooooooooowt’ from the back seat. But it didn’t last long and he was soon in his new house with the blue front door.

His new grown-ups set down the basket, opened its wire door and started encouraging Chorley to come out. But Chorley didn’t need asking twice. There was no time to waste, there was much exploring to be done - he was out of there faster than you could say ‘pilchards and prunes’. So many new nooks and cranny’s and interesting looking ‘things’ to be investigated.

Chorley’s new grown-ups Tristan and Alison sat on their big comfy sofa with the furry blanket in their front room and watched Chorley, smiling as he surveyed every corner of his new home.

‘That’s that room done’ he thought at last. He was satisfied that he’d fully explored the front room – time now for a little nap, ‘now where would be a good place?’ he thought.

‘Ah’ he said, spotting the perfect place, ‘From up there, I’ll be able to see everything!’   Although he was only little, he stuck out his nails and clawed his way up the book case and went to sit on what looked like the perfect spot for nearly grown up kitten.

Unfortunately the tower of CD’s next to the old fashioned record player was a bit too wobbly to sit on. Chorley wobbled too and quickly lost his balance. He tried to jump to safety but ended up landing on the record player and as he landed, his leg knocked a special lever which made the turntable start to spin. Sitting slap bang in the middle, Chorley started to spin too. The first couple of times were fun. ‘Meeeeeooooooowwwww’ he yelled as the room flashed past him, the wind in his fur. ‘This is brilliant’.

But soon he started to feel dizzy so he stuck out his paw to slow himself down. But oh dear, he hit the special lever again, and instead of slowing down the turntable speeded up and started to go even faster. ‘Meeeeeeeoooooooowwwww’ yelled Chorley, he didn’t like it anymore. He did the only thing he could do, stuck out his nails and dug in his claws. He held on for as long as he could and just as he started to feel like his head might fly off, he lost his grip and flew across the room. Luckily his new grown-up Tristan had been very good at cricket at school and caught him with both hands before Chorley could hit the wall.

Chorley sat still in Tristan’s arms – his eyes had gone a bit whirly and he could feel yesterdays kitty biscuits coming back up to say ‘harrow’. He felt like a bit of an idiot. Then he thought of his mother and felt a little bit sad that she wasn’t with him anymore. Luckily his mother was a very wise old cat who had taught him lots of useful things before he’d left home. ‘Chorley Bucket’, she would say, ‘Sometimes things don’t go to plan. But you have a choice – you have to ask yourself, is your bucket half full or half empty?’ Chorley looked at his new grown-ups and decided that things weren’t so bad and that his bucket was probably half full. So he shook his ears, stood up, jumped down onto the floor and went off exploring again through the next door.

Tristan and Alison didn’t stop him. They wanted him to feel at home and so gave him a little bit of time to himself. Chorley headed for the kitchen, he could smell something lovely! Where was that lovely smell coming from? First of all he looked inside the washing machine. The door was open so in he climbed. He thought he looked a little bit like an astronaut in a spaceship and made a special note to spend more time in there in the future. But this time Tristan’s smelly running socks were already in there waiting to be washed so he decided that the lovely smell probably wasn’t coming from the washing machine and jumped out again quickly.

Next he decided to explore the rubbish bin. In his old house his other grown-ups often threw away tasty morsels. Chorley stuck his head into the swing-bin and sniffed. ‘Nothing nice in there’ he thought to himself. Although he had stuck his head in the bin lots of times before, he was growing up fast and that included his head, which got stuck. ‘Oh no’ thought Chorley as he yanked back to try and escape the bin. On the third attempt he managed to pull himself free - from the bin – but not from the bin lid. He skidded across the kitchen floor on his bottom wearing the blue plastic swing-bin lid like a big collar around his neck. He came to a stop and shook his head from side to side trying to shake himself free. It wasn’t easy but in the end he managed to open the lid wide enough to get his head out. ‘Phew’ thought Chorley ‘that was close, I could have been stuck wearing a bin lid forever, which would have made exploring much more difficult!’

Chorley still hadn’t managed to find where the lovely smell was coming from, so he walked around the kitchen and then looked up – ‘Ahh’ he thought, ‘there it is’ and with that he set about hauling himself up the drawer handles, just like climbing a ladder.

The roast chicken on the top of the cooker was almost within licking distance when his concentration was broken by ‘Chorley Bucket! What are you doing?’ Chorley was caught red handed. As he clung to the drawer handles, just one more rung between him and a yumtous chicken, he did the only thing he could think of. He smiled at his new grown-ups and sheepishly said ‘Harrow!’

In the beginning (1)

Chorley Bucket was born in a small town ‘up north’ with a lot of roundabouts.

On the day that he was born, Chorley’s mother was going about her daily business – guarding the bins in the yard, trying to sneak in through other cat’s cat flaps to steal their food, supervising the gardening on the allotments – when all of a sudden she felt a bit funny.

In the end, her kittens were born very quickly. There wasn’t time to find anywhere warm, or dark, or quiet. The only place to hand was a rusty old bucket, which just had to do. Chorley and his brothers didn’t want to be born in a bucket, but that’s just how things turned out that day!

Chorley’s two brothers quickly found new homes. For some reason, people seemed to like the ginger kitten and the tabby kitten, much more than the gangly black kitten with a white chin and a loud purr. The grown-ups in the house where Chorley lived with his mother thought that they were going to be stuck with him forever.

It was dark and raining when Alison and Tristan pulled up outside the row of terraced houses in the small town ‘up north’ with a lot of roundabouts, where Chorley and his mother and his grown-ups lived. They walked quickly across the cobbles and knocked on the red front door.

After chatting for a little while Chorley was bought through into the front room. He was eight weeks old and just about fitted into Alison’s hand. Chorley wasn’t really scared of anything. When you’ve been born in a bucket, there isn’t really much to top that. So he yawned, said ‘Harrow’ in a weedy high pitched mew and then rolled over onto his back. He stretched his head and showed off his little white chin and waited to be tickled.

 ‘We’re going to take him aren’t we’ smiled Alison. Tristan nodded and before Chorley could say ‘pilchards and prunes’ he was being driven round the roundabouts, and down the motorway to a new life in a new place with exciting adventures around every corner!