Copycat (16 page)

‘Just in the nick of time. You were lucky,’ Sammy said.

The fox gulped repeatedly. ‘I – I – I was,’ he stuttered. ‘Lucky to have you. To – to – bother about me. No one has taken such care of me before. But why?’ He was puzzled. He had all but forgotten the impulses of friendship.

‘Well – because I like you,’ Sammy answered easily, ‘and so I don’t want to see you killed.’

The fox gulped again and gaped. He had no more words.

‘Are you ready to move on?’ Sammy prompted.

‘Er – yes,’ the fox murmured.

‘We’ve lost our next meal,’ the tabby pointed out. ‘Look at it. There’s not a mouthful to be had now.’

The fox seemed to recover himself. ‘Carried it all that way for nothing,’ he muttered, ‘and never got a bite out of it.’

‘We had the best of it earlier,’ Sammy said philosophically. ‘We’ll catch something else.’

The fox glared at the flattened carcass as if trying to assess whether he could even now salvage part of it.

‘Come on, Fox,’ Sammy said brightly. ‘Don’t waste time over that. It nearly killed you.’

The old creature sighed, then obediently followed. ‘You saved my life,’ he suddenly said in a half-whisper. ‘You saved me.’ There was still a tone of wonder in his voice. He simply couldn’t get used to the idea. ‘Sammy saved my life.’ He was speaking to himself now, as though he needed to repeat it again in order to grasp it.

‘So! You remember my name,’ Sammy cried. ‘You’ve never used it before.’

‘From now on,’ said the fox, ‘I shall use it all the time. No one has bothered about me for such a long time. But you . . . well! And an old fool like me!’

Sammy was pleased with himself. He was genuinely glad that the fox had survived and especially that he had been able to rescue him. ‘I hope when we find Pinkie you’ll stay with us,’ he said.

The fox thought about it. ‘I’d like to,’ he said. ‘But when you’re together again you won’t want me around. I’d only be a nuisance, taking food from your mouths,
I
can’t hunt any more.’

‘Really? I seem to remember you were the one who caught the duck in the first instance,’ Sammy reminded him.

‘Well! So I was,’ the fox replied in astonishment. ‘Perhaps I’m not so useless after all.’

—20—

‘Where have you come from?’

The first building came into view around a bend in the road. It was all in darkness. Could this be the place? There was an open entrance from the road with a garden surrounding it. Sammy and the fox entered the grounds side by side.

‘I don’t think there are animals here,’ said Sammy. ‘There isn’t a sound.’

‘Wait here,’ the fox said. ‘Let my nose be the judge. I may be on my last legs, but my sense of smell hasn’t deserted me.’ He scouted around the building, muzzle to the ground. He soon returned. ‘You’re quite right,’ he announced. ‘Only human scents here.’

It was the same story with the next two houses. Sammy was beginning to feel disheartened when they came across a quite different style of building. This one was well set back from the road and was in the form of a large cube. Several of its many windows were illuminated. There was a wide parking area to the front and the sides. Already from a distance away, Sammy’s sharp ears picked up animal sounds. He became very excited. The fox, however, began to look nervous.

‘This must be it!’ Sammy exclaimed. ‘Two . . . three times I heard a dog. Different noises; different animals. So there’s a number of them here. I haven’t yet heard a cat.’

‘Go closer,’ the fox said. ‘I’ll stay here in the shadows.’

‘I was hoping you’d use your nose again,’ Sammy said.

‘Oh, I can smell cat from here.’ The fox sounded quite sure about it. ‘There are many scents: all kinds of creatures.’

‘Pinkie will be here, then,’ Sammy said. ‘There can’t be two places like this.’

‘What will you do now?’ the fox asked.

‘I’ll see if there’s a way in. If not, I must wait around until a door or a window is opened.’

‘Supposing it’s daylight by then?’

‘Makes no difference,’ Sammy replied. ‘I have to get inside to find Pinkie.’

The fox looked uncertain about it. ‘I suppose this is where we part for the present, then,’ he said unhappily. ‘I can’t risk being around here in daylight. If you find your mate, what are your plans?’

‘To get her away from here. But it may not be possible.’

‘What if it isn’t?’

‘I don’t know,’ Sammy admitted. ‘I haven’t thought that far ahead. Look, Fox, don’t leave just yet. It’s an awfully long way back. Perhaps you might find that better den somewhere around here, away from the river. Let me go and take a look around. You’re safe for the present. I’ll come back shortly and tell you what I’ve discovered.’

The fox was pleased with this idea. ‘All right, Sammy,’ he said brightly.

Sammy went off resolutely, leaving the fox to seek a more secluded spot. There was a fence all around the area. In one corner a stand of hazel sprouted, and here the fox lay down on the residue of last winter’s leaves. Sammy, meanwhile, prowled the length of the building, staying close to the wall. Nothing open there. Round the back next, and there
was
a window open. Sammy looked at it intently, pondering his chances of jumping to the opening. He thought he could probably make it. Anyway it was worth trying. He quickly trotted back to inform his friend.

Sammy’s calls, audible inside the building, set two dogs barking. The fox came, wagging his tail.

‘I’ve found a way in,’ Sammy told him. ‘I’m going to give it a try. Will you wait for me?’

The fox looked nervous. He licked his lips anxiously. ‘Yes, for a while. But I’ll have to move before daybreak.’

‘Very well. If you don’t see me – or
both
of us – before then, where will you be?’ Sammy turned, eager to go.

‘Back in the undergrowth,’ the fox answered. ‘You know – where you saved me. I’ll stay hidden. Will you come for me?’

‘Of course I will.’

‘All right. Be careful, Sammy. And good luck!’

‘The same to you.’ Sammy returned to the rear of the building. Balancing himself for a leap, he sprang upwards and managed to grapple a hold on the window frame. He teetered there for a bit, his eyes peering into the darkness inside for a clue as to what was before him. A dog started to yap. It sounded close by. Sammy’s fur rose along his back and his body swayed. Was he going to jump down into a dog’s jaws? Moments later, his eyes could make out a room with two rows of pens stretching away along either wall. He could smell dog – warm bodies and coats – plainly. But there were no animals running loose.

‘Here goes,’ he murmured to himself, pressing his front paws against the inside wall in preparation for the leap down. He sprang, and landed without difficulty. More dogs, roused by Sammy’s soft thud, began to bark. Now he could see some of them, peeping through the bars of their pens and suspicious of any strange noise. He had to run the gauntlet of their eager eyes and tongues if he were to begin his search. It was a daunting prospect. Sammy reminded himself that the dogs were all safely out of reach and, plucking up courage, slunk forwards.

‘Who’s this?’ ‘What are you doing?’ ‘How did you get here?’ ‘We’re sick, don’t disturb us!’ ‘Keep away!’ ‘This is my cage!’ ‘Who are you?’ the dogs yapped and barked as they saw or scented Sammy. Not all of them were angry or indignant; some merely curious or inquisitive, others too ill to bother at all. Sammy thought he could make use of the inquisitive kind. He hastened to get some information before the din came inevitably to human attention.

‘Are there cats here?’ he asked a Jack Russell boldly.

‘Sure there are. Why shouldn’t there be?’

‘Where? Where are they?’ Sammy hissed urgently.

‘I don’t know. Further along, maybe. Or in the outside area where the fit dogs are.’

Sammy continued quickly onward. He had no idea what he would do if he suddenly came across Pinkie in one of these cages. Soon he caught the distinct smell of a male cat. He went straight towards the source: around a corner and along a short corridor to more, but smaller, pens in two tiers.

A large tabby was in the first one. It was bigger even than Sammy and was crouching in its pen, its ears pricked against the diminishing barks. It saw Sammy and cried out in amazement, ‘I wondered what had set them off. Who are you? How did you get out?’

Sammy replied, ‘I’m Sammy and I’ve got in! Through the window. Phew, it’s hot in here.’

The other tabby blinked and looked at him incredulously. ‘Are you a mad cat?’ it demanded. ‘Where have you come from?’

‘Outside,’ Sammy answered simply. ‘I’m looking for my mate – a little white cat.’

‘Very likely!’ the tabby spat. ‘Well, you won’t find a mate here. They’re all shut away. You must have taken leave of your senses.’

Sammy tried to explain. ‘We were separated. Pinkie got injured and I think the humans brought her here.’

‘They certainly didn’t,’ growled the other. ‘There are no pink cats here. Whoever heard of such a thing?’

‘No, no, a
white
cat. Pink tongue, pink ears.
They
gave her her name. Have you seen a little white female in here? With blue eyes? Quickly! I’m sure someone will be coming.’

‘I can only see what I can see from this enclosure,’ the tabby replied sourly. ‘And all I can see is a black cat, a tabby like you, a black-and-white and a tortoiseshell. So you’re out of luck!’

‘Not if there are others you
can’t
see!’ Sammy snapped. ‘Has confinement made you objectionable or were you always like this?’

‘Stay here much longer and you’ll find out!’

Sammy walked on purposefully, past the black cat and the tabby, past the black-and-white, all of whom started to dart questions at him, and stopped by the tortoiseshell. She was bandaged and asleep. Ignoring all the demands and enquiries, he moved on again. Next to the tortoiseshell was a little white cat with blue eyes. Pinkie said, ‘I thought it was you.’

Sammy was ecstatic. He pushed his face against the wire so that his whiskers brushed hers. ‘Pinkie!’ he whispered tenderly. ‘How did you know?’

‘I heard your voice, of course. I thought you would come. Have you ceased to be a pet?’

‘Yes. I’m Sammy the vagabond again.’

‘
My
Sammy?’

‘Yes.’

‘How did you find me?’

There was a lot to explain and talk about, on both sides. But now wasn’t the time. ‘The old fox put me on your trail,’ said Sammy. ‘He’s outside now. Is there any way out of your cage?’

‘Of course not!’ Pinkie replied. ‘D’you think I’d still be in it if there were?’

‘Then you’re not hurt?’

‘I was, but that was a while ago. It wasn’t anything much, Sammy. What are we going to do?’

‘I don’t know. I need to think about this. When will your cage be opened?’

‘When I’m fed. And sometimes the humans have to clean up. Then I’m taken out and –’ She stopped suddenly. There was the noise of footsteps. ‘Somebody’s coming,’ Pinkie hissed. ‘You must go!’

‘No, no,’ Sammy pleaded. ‘I’ve only just found you. I’ll hide.’

‘There’s nowhere to hide,’ she wailed. ‘Oh, footsteps, footsteps . . . we’ve feared them in one way or another for so long. Sammy, you must run. Please! Don’t get yourself captured too. Stay free or we’ll always be apart.’

Sammy saw the sense in her words. But he was overcome by sadness. To have found Pinkie against all the odds and then, almost at once, be forced to abandon her again!

‘I’ll be back,’ he whispered with determination. ‘Goodbye for now.’ He ran between the rows of cages, round the corner and up to the window. The footsteps pursued him. Light flooded the rooms as a young woman arrived to investigate the commotion. Sammy’s thick tail was illuminated as he disappeared through the window. He was gone in a flash. The woman stood looking at the open window and doubted that she had really seen what she thought she had seen.

Sammy, sick at heart, sought out the fox and told him what he had discovered.

‘You found her!’ the fox exclaimed, wagging his tail vigorously. He was almost as excited as Sammy had been.

‘Yes. I found her only to leave her once more. I must go back.’ Sammy prowled about, unable to keep still.

‘Wait. You can’t go back now. Daylight’s coming soon,’ the fox counselled him. ‘And what could you do, anyway?’

‘Nothing,’ Sammy answered hoarsely. ‘Oh, Fox, help me. Can you think of a plan?’

‘Maybe. Come, Sammy. We must leave here and find somewhere more secure.’ Now the fox led the way, with Sammy following, full of frustration. Further along the road a clump of woodland offered protection. The fox and the cat ran underneath the trees and were embraced by deep shadows.

‘This is marvellous,’ said the fox, who felt at home at once. He sprawled at the foot of a huge oak with branches that blotted out the fading moonlight. Sammy squatted next to him, still on edge.

‘Sammy, you don’t need to go back into that place of humans,’ the fox said slowly.

‘Of course I do,’ Sammy argued. ‘What do you mean?’

‘You said that Pinkie had recovered from her hurt. So the humans made her well again.’

‘Yes, I suppose so.’

‘Well then, they’ll soon release her. Do you remember what I told you about the injured fox?’

‘Yes. And so you think they won’t keep Pinkie?’

‘Why should they if she’s well? All you have to do is to stay nearby – around here perhaps; it’s a suitable spot – and soon you’ll be able to rejoin her without putting yourself at risk.’

‘But Pinkie won’t know that,’ Sammy demurred. ‘She won’t know where I am. I have to go back to explain.’

‘Not now,’ the fox insisted. ‘You’d be caught for sure. Aren’t you tired after all this activity? Why don’t you sleep through the daytime and go back after dusk?
I
couldn’t walk another step. I don’t know how I’ve kept up with you.’

‘I’ll try to curb my impatience,’ Sammy replied. ‘I know you’re right.’

‘Good. We’ll be quite safe here. We couldn’t have found a better place. Later I’ll nose around a bit. Talk to the locals. There might just be room for a mangy old fox to make himself a den.’