Mr Ellmore was walking down the street. He had parked his big blue car, which was once again completely free of dents, and now he was on his way to the shoe shop to buy a pair of shoes.
For the first time he noticed how many cats there were in Killenthorn. He couldn’t take a step without a cat getting in the way. Some of them even shot through between his legs. Twice he stumbled over a cat.
We really need to get rid of some of these cats, he thought. It’s a cat plague, that’s what it is. Next time I’ll bring Mars with me.
And after a while he noticed that the cats were following him. First it was just one trailing along behind him, but when he looked again a little later there were eight of them.
And by the time he made it to the shop there were more than ten. They all followed him in.
“Kssss!” hissed Mr Ellmore angrily. He chased them out of the shop but they came back in again with the very next customer.
And when he was trying on shoes and standing there defenceless in his socks, they circled around him.
“Are these your cats, sir?” asked the shop assistant.
“What do you take me for?” Mr Ellmore shouted. “They just followed me in.”
“Shall I chase them away again?”
“Yes, please!”
The shop assistant chased the cats out for a second time, but as soon as the door opened again for a new customer the whole horde came back in and crowded around Mr Ellmore’s legs.
He would have loved to kick them. He would have loved to catch one of them on the head with a heavy boot, but there were quite a few customers in the shop by now. And everyone knew him. Everyone knew he was the president of the Animal Lovers’ Association. And that meant he wasn’t allowed to kick any cats.
At least, not while people are looking, he thought grimly. But just wait… I’ll get my chance.
He got his chance. On the street all the cats trooped along behind him. As long as people were watching, he didn’t dare do a thing, but when the street was quiet for a moment close to the school, he looked around quickly, saw that the coast was clear and gave the Butcher’s Cat a good kick.
The cats shot off in all directions.
“That’s that taken care of,” smirked Mr Ellmore. But when he got to his car and opened the door he found eight or so cats sitting inside it. He was so furious he was about to bash them right out again when a voice behind him said, “Oh, look… how lovely.”
He turned around and saw Mr Smith beaming at him.
“A car full of cats,” he said. “You’re such an animal lover.”
“Absolutely…” said Mr Ellmore with a strained smile.
“You are coming to my reading tomorrow, aren’t you?” Mr Smith asked. “I think you will find it particularly interesting: ‘The Cat Through the Ages: A Feline History’. With beautiful coloured slides. You’ll be there, won’t you?”
“Yes, definitely,” said Mr Ellmore.
The cats emerged sedately from the car. Mr Ellmore drove to his factory. He had an important meeting in his office with the Councillor. To discuss expanding his factory. But because of all the cats, he was late. When he walked into his office the Councillor was already there.
Mr Ellmore apologized, offered the Councillor a cigar and started talking about his expansion plans.
“There are a lot of people who aren’t so keen on an expansion,” the Councillor said. “They’re afraid the town will get too smelly.”
“Oh, but our fragrances are wonderful,” Mr Ellmore said. “Our latest is apple blossom… I’ll just let you smell it.”
But when he turned around to get the spray can, he saw three cats slipping out through the open window.
He suppressed a curse.
“Just smell how wonderful it is,” he said. The Councillor sniffed.
“Apple blossom,” said Mr Ellmore. He sniffed too. But what they smelt wasn’t apple blossom at all. The whole room reeked of tomcats.
“Cat pee,” the Councillor wanted to say. But he was a well-mannered man and said politely, “Mmmm, that smells good.”
That afternoon Mr Ellmore took his dog in the car with him, in case a troop of cats tried to follow him again.
And there they were. Standing around the parking spot. Some were close by, others at a distance. The whole street was crawling with cats.
Mr Ellmore held the door open and said, “Come on out, Mars. Look, Mars… kitty cats… come on, boy, get ’em!”
But to his surprise, Mars stayed in the car, quietly whimpering. He didn’t want to get out.
“What are you doing? You’re not scared of a few cats, are you?”
But Mars didn’t stir. He growled viciously, but he was too scared to get out of the car.
He could see the Tatter Cat. She was the closest of all and although she had a limp now and couldn’t move that quickly, she was the bravest of all as well. She looked so mean, so devilish, with such a bloodthirsty expression on her dirty cat face…
Mars suddenly remembered how she’d clawed him in his own backyard. And now there were all those other cats too. There were too many, he couldn’t take them on. He was staying in the car.
“Call yourself a dog!” Mr Ellmore said contemptuously. He looked around. Lots and lots of cats… not very many people… and no one watching.
He grabbed the dog whip from the back of the car and lashed out left and right. He caught the Church Cat Ecumenica, who shot screeching into the church; the others disappeared in all directions, like a swarm of hornets when you spray them with water.
But just like hornets, they came back. The Tatter Cat leading the way. And they trailed along behind Mr Ellmore until he drove off again.
That evening they went to his garden as well.
Until now Mars had always kept all the cats away. None of them had ever dared go into the garden, except now and then when the dog was shut in the garage. Like the time that led to the Tatter Cat’s lame leg.
And now all of a sudden… cats in the garden.
“Mars… kitty cats!” Mr Ellmore called. “Get ’em, boy. Go on, get ’em!”
Mars jumped around excitedly in front of the French doors, but didn’t dare go out into the garden.
“I don’t understand what’s got into the dog,” Mr Ellmore said. “He’s scared of cats, have you ever heard anything so ridiculous? A German Shepherd that’s scared of cats!”
“If I’m not mistaken, they’re attacking our rose bushes,” his wife said. “Chase them away! Here, take this bottle. Last time you hit that filthy stray with it.”
Mr Ellmore ran out with the bottle.
The cats were hard at work scratching the flowers and leaves off the roses Ellmore was so proud of.
They looked up at him triumphantly as he approached.
“Dirty rotten cats! Now there’s nobody around to watch! Now I’m in my own garden… I’ll get you…”
He lashed out left and right, but stamped on his own roses in the process and stabbed himself with a thorn. And the cats were gone, disappearing between the bushes and trees.
“And you know what you’ll get if I see you here again!” Ellmore roared at the bushes.
He went back inside and his wife said, “They’re back.”
“Where?”
“In the rose bed. They’re going to destroy all our roses.”
“That’s it,” her husband said grimly. “This is too much. And fortunately there aren’t any people around here, so I don’t have to restrain myself. Get me my hunting rifle!”
She fetched it for him.
He stood next to the terrace with the gun in his hands. Although it was already evening, the spring sun was shining down through the branches of the trees onto the rose bed where no less than ten cats were ripping up the rose bushes with delight in their eyes.
“Now I’ll get you… you scum…” Mr Ellmore said softly.
He raised the gun up to his shoulder.
Simon the Siamese was the closest. He looked at Ellmore with his eyes completely crossed, but didn’t budge.
Seven cats ran off in fright; three stood their ground. The Councillor’s Cat, the Tatter Cat and Cross-eyed Simon.
Seconds before the shot rang out they sped off—just in time. Only the Tatter Cat was still limping on the lawn, but before Mr Ellmore could take aim again, she ducked into the shadows.
He turned around to go back inside, but saw a girl standing there. A little girl in his garden. She tried to slip away, but he saw that she was laughing. She was laughing at him.
“What’s the idea? What are you doing here?” Mr Ellmore cried.
She was laughing so hard she couldn’t answer.
Mr Ellmore was beside himself with rage. He grabbed the girl by the arm, shook her hard and hit her over the back of the head.
“Now get out of my garden, you little hussy.”
At first it looked like Bibi was crying. But as soon as she was through the gate, she started laughing again.
She waited for a moment on the other side of the fence, on the street. Then Minou came out of the garden through a hole in the hedge. And behind her came the Tatter Cat… and all the other cats, one by one.
The rest of the evening they left the roses alone.