Oscar and the CATastrophe. Alan MacDonald

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      After lunch they called next door. Mum took a tin of her homemade flapjack. Oscar came along but at the gate he stopped and hung back, leaving Mum to go ahead.

      ‘What’s wrong?’ asked Sam.

      ‘There’s a funny smell,’ said Oscar, wrinkling his nose.

      Sam sniffed. ‘I can’t smell anything.’

      ‘Your nose doesn’t work,’ said Oscar. ‘I know that smell and it means trouble.’

      It was too late to go back now. Mum had rung the bell and Mrs Bentley-Wallop was opening the door. Sam hurried to join them. Their new neighbour wore quite a lot of make-up but that wasn’t what caught Sam’s attention – it was the enormous white cat sitting in her arms. It was as big as a pumpkin with green eyes that glittered when it saw Oscar.

      ‘We live next door,’ said Mum. ‘We brought you a little welcome present.’

      ‘Oh, how terribly kind of you!’ cried Mrs Bentley-Wallop in a plummy voice. ‘Flapjack! I haven’t eaten that in years!’

      ‘Mum made it. Her flapjack’s the best,’ Sam informed her.

      ‘I’m sure it tastes delicious!’ said their neighbour. Her face fell when she spotted Oscar. ‘Oh goodness, you have a dog!’

      ‘Yes, this is Oscar,’ Sam told her.

      ‘Doesn’t he have a lead?’ asked Mrs Bentley-Wallop.

      ‘He doesn’t need one, he’s very well behaved,’ said Sam. He shot Oscar a warning look.

      ‘Of course, I’m a cat-lover myself,’ Mrs Bentley-Wallop was saying. ‘This is Carmen, isn’t she a darling pusskins?’

      The big cat purred as Mrs Bentley-Wallop stroked her head. She narrowed her eyes at Oscar whose ears twitched. Plainly he didn’t think Carmen was a darling pusskins at all.

      ‘I’d love to ask you in, but as you can see the place is such a state,’ trilled Mrs Bentley-Wallop. ‘And I’m afraid I don’t have dogs in the house. Carmen doesn’t like it and they do make a mess.’

      ‘Oscar isn’t messy,’ said Sam.

      ‘Well, only a little,’ laughed Mum. ‘But he is quite clever, sometimes we wonder if he understands what we’re saying.’

      ‘Heavens! I hope not!’ laughed Mrs Bentley-Wallop.

      Carmen wriggled in her arms and she set her down on the floor.

      ‘It’s all right, princess,’ she cooed. ‘No one’s going to hurt you. Carmen’s a Persian, they’re terribly sensitive.’

      Sam didn’t think Carmen looked sensitive. If anything she seemed to be enjoying the fact that Oscar couldn’t get at her. She hid behind her owner’s legs and peeped out now and then, playing a game of peek-a-boo.

      ‘I’m sure Oscar wouldn’t hurt her,’ said Mum. ‘Perhaps they’ll be friends?’

      Carmen dared to venture a little closer. She rubbed her back against her owner’s legs, purring loudly and swishing her long tail. It was almost as if she was daring Oscar to come after her.

      Oscar had seen enough. He barked.

      ‘OSCAR!’ cried Mum.

      Mrs Bentley-Wallop scooped up Carmen in her arms and stepped back from the door.

      ‘Well, perhaps I ought to get on,’ she sighed. ‘It was so sweet of you to pop round. I’m sure we’ll bump into each other again.’

      ‘Yes, of course . . .’ began Mum – but the door had already closed.

      They walked back down the path.

      ‘Well that didn’t go very well,’ said Mum.

      ‘I know,’ said Sam. ‘I’m not sure she even likes flapjack. And she called Oscar messy!’

      ‘We should never have taken him,’ said Mum.

      ‘It wasn’t his fault!’ protested Sam. ‘Carmen was showing off the whole time.’

      ‘She’s obviously nervous around dogs,’ said Mum. ‘You’d better keep Oscar away from her or there’s going to be trouble.’

      Oscar waited until Mum had gone inside and the door had closed.

      ‘I warned you,’ he said. ‘I knew I smelled a cat, the worst kind too.’

      ‘What’s the worst kind?’ asked Sam.

      ‘The uppity kind,’ replied Oscar.

      Sam had never thought of cats as uppity, although it was true you couldn’t tell a cat what to do. Most dogs would happily fetch a stick if you threw one. A cat would just stare at you as if you’d lost your mind.

      ‘Is she going to stay long?’ asked Oscar.

      ‘Probably,’ said Sam. ‘But there’s nothing we can do about it. Anyway, what’s so terrible about cats?’

      ‘If you’re asking that, you don’t know many cats,’ replied Oscar, darkly.

      ‘Well you heard Mum, you’ll just have to behave or you’ll get us into trouble,’ warned Sam.

      Oscar gave him a look.

      ‘I’m a dog,’ he said. ‘And dogs chase cats – if we didn’t they’d get too uppity.’

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