The Story of Charlie Yandle This is the story of Charlie Yandle, who came to live in Martock for 8 glorious years. Arabella Yandle Published by Arabella Yandle at Smashwords Copyright 2012 Arabella Yandle Smashwords Edition, License Notes Thank you for downloading this free ebook. Although this is a free book, it remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be reproduced, copied and distributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy at Smashwords.com, where they can also discover other works by this author. Thank you for your support. Contents Chapter 1 – In which Charlie finds his mum and comes to live in Martock Chapter 2 – In which Charlie learns some lessons in life with the help of the chimney Chapter 3 – In which Charlie finds his voice Chapter 4 – In which Charlie shows his heritage Chapter 5 – In which Charlie shows he cares Chapter 6 – In which Charlie makes friends Chapter 7 – In which Charlie acts like a teenager Chapter 8 – In which we share more of Charlie’s habits Chapter 9 – In which Charlie leaves his mum Chapter 1 – In which Charlie finds his mum and comes to live in Martock Charlie was born in Devon, just south of Crewkerne. There were fifteen of them altogether – brothers and sisters and cousins all born at Easter. They lived on a farm in a cardboard box. His mother was called Tuna and his brother was called Mackerel. His brother was a dark tabby and ever so yowly. Charlie, though he had no name then, was one of two little ginger balls of fluff with pale colouring and it was love at first sight – for both him and his mum to be. He settled into her hands straight away and when he mewed he made no sound. His ears and paws were huge and his eyes were blue. His mum left him with Tuna until he was old enough to come and live with her. She didn’t know what to call him ‘cos she had always said she didn’t want to have a ginger tom – and that was what she ended up with. When he came to live in Martock, he charged around like a loony tune, clambering up the curtains and running over anything in his way. He so wanted to go out. He slept so heavily that she could clip his claws and he wouldn’t even notice. He liked to sleep on his mother’s chest just under her chin. His aunty Amy named him Charlie and he learnt the name so well that he always recognised the word. The moment he had got his shots and they had kicked in he wanted to be out. From that point onwards he was a cat who liked his freedom but always came home to his mum. He was a little leopard, a wild beastie, the clumsiest silly billy, and his mum was totally in thrall to him. People would say ‘He’s in total control, he rules the house’ and his mum would say, ‘No he isn’t, he knows I’m in charge’. And then she’d do exactly what he wanted. Chapter 2 – In which Charlie learns some lessons in life with the help of the chimney Like I already said, Charlie was a clumsy numpty. He was soooo curious. His mum was always finding him up to his whiskers in trouble. The street got quite used to hearing her cry ‘Oh, Charlie!’ and everyone got to know him in all the streets around. Complete strangers would come up to her in the street and ask her ‘Is Charlie your cat?’. He was overwhelmingly trusting and loved almost everybody, though he could tell very quickly if people were not in to him and would leave them well alone. Being a bit of a ditz – but also being totally confident – he was able to get himself into some scrapes. He put on a persona of being all brave, but when in trouble he came to his mum. One of his first (and biggest) scrapes was to get stuck on the roof! He must have got up there step by step up the back of the house, from one level roof to the next. His mum could hear him calling and went outside. She couldn’t see him anywhere, but could hear him: ‘Mum, mum. Help me’. Finally she looked up and saw him there. He was near the top of the roof, and when he saw his mum he tried to get down but was far too nervous. She called and called but he couldn’t quite make it. What was she going to do? She thought about all those programs on the tv about the RSPCA so she called West Hatch. ‘My cat’s on the roof’, she said. ‘He won’t come down’. ‘If he managed to get up there he will come down eventually. If he doesn’t come down for 2 days, the fire brigade will come and get him’. Charlie’s mum wasn’t happy about leaving him there. She lived on the main road and knew that everyone who came along would see him and knock on her door. She knew she was a good mum and didn’t want people to think she wasn’t. She thought and thought and then remembered the man who lived opposite had long ladders. She went to see him and asked him for his help. He got his long ladders and came across the road. Charlie had heard mum’s voice out the front and had come over the roof ridge. He was calling her: ‘Mum, mum, I’m scared’, trying to creep down slowly, but it was much more dangerous to come down the front. ‘Stay there, Charlie’, she called. The man put the ladder up and went up to the roof. Charlie came down to meet him and with a little persuasion he let the man take hold of him and bring him down. Charlie never really liked being held, so his whizzed in doors. ‘I think we should say thank you’, his mum said to him later. ‘Can we give him a bottle of wine?’, said Charlie. ‘That’s a good idea, but it should be from you’, said his mum, so she got a label and Charlie put a note on it, saying thanks for getting him down. ‘You stay here,’ said mum. She never liked him to go out the front of the house. She went over the road and left the bottle with its label outside the door of the man who had helped him. The next day, his wife came over and said: ‘thank Charlie for the wine. A short while later, Charlie decided the chimney was too tempting from inside instead. His mum had been cleaning it and went away from it and stupidly forgot to put the grill in front. She heard a funny rushing noise and went into the sitting room. Charlie was coming down out of the chimney in a cloud of soot. He was completely black. ‘Oh, Charlie!’. His mum wanted to give him a bath but knew he wouldn’t be keen. She went next door to Auntie Steff. ‘Please could you come and help me give Charlie a bath?’, she said. ‘Sure’, said Auntie Steff. She came round and held Charlie while mum tried to wash him off as much as possible. He wasn’t very happy about it. They washed as much soot as possible off him, but he still had some left on him. His mum called the vet – did she need to worry? ‘We’ll check him out’, they said, so he and his mum went to the vet. He was still pretty grey. The vet checked him over and then his mum took him home – she needed to cuddle him with a blanket for the next few days. The good news is that he never went on the roof again, and his mum made sure she never left him with the fire unguarded. He remained curious about the chimney. When it rained or hailed he could hear drops coming down and would get very alert. Chapter 3 – In which Charlie finds his voice Like I said, Charlie had a completely silent mew when he was a baby. For a long time, he only squeaked. He purred though. He purred soooo loudly that when he went to the vet, for his first ever check up, the vet complained that he couldn’t hear Charlie’s heart because of the purring. He had to wait until after the jabs when Charlie was quiet for a moment – then he could check his heart. Charlie only stopped purring when he was tagged – it was a very big needle. I can’t remember exactly when Charlie started meowing properly, but he was never really a meowing cat – he was more of a talker and he made his feelings very clear. One day, his mum was sitting in the house when there was a great crash – Charlie coming through the cat flap like a bat out of hell. ‘MUM! MUM!’ ‘What is it?’ ‘Mum, there’s something on me and I don’t know what it is!’ Charlie kept looking around at his bum, ‘Mum, please’. ‘Let me have a look, then’ ‘Mum, mum!’ ‘Ok, sweetie. Let me have a proper look’. Charlie’s mum managed to get hold of him – he was wriggling like an eel – and stuck in the fur of his bum was a big, black slug! ‘How on earth did that get there? Did you sit on it? Did you fall asleep and let it crawl on you?’ ‘I don’t know, but, mum, get it off me!’ ‘Ok, ok.’ Charlie’s mum had to fiddle for a while ‘cos the slug was really glued in. Eventually she managed to get the slug off, but his fur was left ever so gummy. ‘I’m afraid you’ll have to lick that off’, mum said. She knew she wouldn’t be able to wash him again. It seemed to be around that time that Charlie became much more vocal. He would say hello in the morning and goodnight in the evening. If he thought his mum was late or taking too long to get around to giving him attention or to feeding him, he would stomp through the house, his ears back to check his mum was still following him. If she stopped he’d look over his shoulder and bark at her. ‘Come on, mum, get on with it!’. ‘Ok, ok, I’m coming, you impatient beast’, his mum would reply – and she always did. Chapter 4 – In which Charlie shows his heritage Charlie’s mum was a bit of a science buff and always wondered what type of wild cat domestic cats had developed from. She watched him for many hours thinking about all the big cats she knew about and had seen in the wild. Was he a lion? Was he a tiger? Was he a cheetah? No, definitely not a cheetah nor, despite his stripes, a tiger. The way he pounced on things reminded his mum of films she had seen on civet cats and golden cats. He was a very good hunter, but his mum didn’t mind too much because the animals he hunted were always killed outright – he never played with his food – and he always ate them. His mum did get a bit put out by finding the remnants of his victims around the house. If Charlie had caught a bird, all she would find would be the gizzard, the pin feathers and the feet – and on one occasion the beak. If Charlie had caught a mouse, she would find the tail and the stomach – intact and unharmed. Once he caught a toad, but he didn’t eat that one. His mum found it behind the TV where he used to take his prey. Once she was talking on the phone and he brought in a mouse and ate it in front of her in less than 30 seconds with scary efficiency. He was also excellent at catching flies and spiders, which was very useful. She never could get him to eat slugs or pill bugs, though she found out later that some cats do eat slugs. But this was nature. She hated it when he ate dumped food, ‘cos it usually made him sick. She finally decided what he was when she saw him hunting and saw the way he acted when he caught things. He loved to lie in wait and give her a shock. When she was in the garden he would hide behind bushes and jump out at her suddenly. She would scream and he would bounce away madly, his ears pricked, and then come back and do it again. Even when she knew he was hiding it managed to make her jump. One time he jumped out and wrapped his paws around her legs and bit her on the bum. When they played with things, he would hold them with his front paws and his teeth and his back paws would attack whatever he held. ‘Aha!’ his mum said, ‘you’re a leopard!’ So that was settled. A leopard crossed with the smaller cats and only a scavenger when necessary. She spent hours watching him, learning all his unique features – the tufts on his ears, the black ends to his whiskers, his long toes, the way the dark stripes of his fur on his head were longer than the light stripes. The one thing he did do, which is apparently very rare, is share his bird call with everyone. If he saw birds – and he only did it with birds – he would make a high pitched squeaking noise unlike any of his other noises. His mum loved to hear it. ‘Are there birds?’ she would say. Sometimes he would answer her. Other times he just watched them. If his mum went out in the garden then to see what he could see, he would rush out with her. Chapter 5 – In which Charlie shows he cares Charlie was an opinionated cat. He insisted his mum remember he was the centre of attention, but most of what he did was also very sensible and taught his mum a lot. Like I already said, if she was late or had stayed out too long, he would tell her so. He had very strong feelings about her working on things. She would be given so long to do stuff and then he would say: ‘Enough now! Pay ME attention.’ If she was on the computer or doing paper work he would sit on the work. She tried to teach him to leave her alone, but more often than not he would make it impossible for her to work or she would end up trying to work to one side whilst he occupied most of her lap. If she was sewing, he would put his paws on her knees or jump on to the arm of the chair and then put his head under the sewing and butt it out of the way. The good thing about it was that it stopped her focussing on this stuff for endless hours. They found a routine that worked for them so well. In the mornings he would be waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs. In the afternoons or evenings he would sit on the spare bed looking out of the window. When she came home and opened the door, she could hear his feet bang on the ceiling above her head – how could anything so small be so heavy footed? – she would wonder every time. He would come down stairs and wait behind the sitting room doors, stretching and chatting. ‘Finally, you’ve got home – hurry up and feed me’. If his mum was at home in the mornings, they would spend some time together with him on her lap. When she was working in various rooms he would follow her and find a place to sit in the same room or outside (until he decided she’d done enough). When she fed him, he always stretched up for the food and was very well mannered in that if he jumped on the work top he would get back down if she clicked her fingers. He made it very clear when it was time to play. If he wanted his mum to go in the garden with him he would wait by the door and ask her to go out. If he wanted her to play in the house he would start charging around and clambering all over things. When his mum was working or out, he’d go out straight away but always whizzed back when he heard her come home. Sometimes she would call in the garden and he would charge over the wall and bound through the garden into the house. He usually went out immediately after eating – no doubt to do his toilet – and in the evening would go out after his first course and come back to finish off. Normally then, being a crepuscular fellow, he’d go out a roamin’ for a few hours, coming back around 8ish. From then on it was quality him and mum time. He would sit on her lap for hours. If she started dozing he would get up and nuzzle or butt her to wake her up. ‘Don’t go to sleep, mum, I haven’t had my supper. Maybe you should go to bed!’ Then when she had fed him his supper she would shut the stair door – good night, darling boy, see you in the morning – and go to bed. On one occasion, the door opened in the night and he came upstairs to wake her up. His mum did write a limerick for him once. This isn’t the exact version but it’s more or less right: There once was a girl with a cat Who said ‘what a good cat is that! ‘He likes climbing trees, ‘chases birds and the bees ‘and loves to sit in my hat!’ Chapter 6 – In which Charlie makes friends As I’ve already said, Charlie made friends wherever he went, and bewitched most visitors to the house. He was brilliant and telling who not to waste his time with. His most particular friends were Bunty the cat and Auntie Steff and Uncle Ian. His mum asked them to be his guardian if anything happened to her and they were very pleased to say yes. He spent some time every day around at their house. They called him ‘Charley Farley’ and were always glad to see him and tell his mum about his cheek. Charlie hung around with Bunty a lot. Bunty must have wondered what was going on when this young whippersnapper moved in next door. He would sit there with a resigned expression in his face, but really they became like brothers very quickly. His mum would often look out and see them sitting together on the top of the sheds. Sometimes they had a bit of a tiff, but they always made it up. Charlie was completely at home at Auntie Steff’s house. If his mum was out, that was his first port of call. When Uncle Ian went in his shed, Charlie would sit on the roof and bat him as he went in and out. If they hadn’t seen him for a while, they always came round to see if things were ok. These times normally coincided with his mum being at home for a reason. He would stay in with her and they wouldn’t see him. If his mum was away and Charlie was at a cattery, they would look in on him to see how he was. He wasn’t very keen on little people, but Thea, Auntie Steff’s granddaughter, could call him and he would go over for a visit. When Bryony came to stay, she and Charlie became very close. He would sit on her lap and gave her a special present for Christmas – a charm for her bracelet in the shape of a cat. She gave him a bowl which still makes his mum cry when she thinks of it because it was so true. It said: ‘And there came amongst them a cat of such great glory, that all who saw him were sore amazed and wondered at his splendour’ He also made friends with a pedigree Siamese cat called Iona. More than once, Iona’s mum would come looking for her when she had got out of the house, saying that she had made a break for freedom following Charlie, who used to sleep in their conservatory. Iona never was in Charlie’s garden. He would appear innocently and alone. Chapter 7 – In which Charlie acts like a teenager Like I said, Charlie was very brave but also very clumsy. He could easily fall off things ‘cos he was almost too confident. When he was having a mad moment, his mum would say: ‘What’s happening? Are you having a madmartigan moment?’ He had fights whenever new cats moved into the area – which could be very worrying. He also had a tendency to eat left over take away: ‘You who have teenage sons will know what I mean’, his mum said in one of her Christmas round robins, ’they go out at night, hang around with the wrong crowd, have a fight, eat a dodgy take away, come home and get sick all over the house, and then act like butter wouldn’t melt in their mouths the next day’. Charlie liked people to think he was really brave, but he wasn’t really very brave. He hated the noise of the smoke alarm and plastic bags being shaken. He wasn’t very keen on his mum singing. When he was younger, if he was sitting on her lap and she started singing, he would get off. He didn’t mind so much later – I’m not sure whether he’d just got used to it or whether her singing wasn’t as good anymore. Chapter 8 – In which we share more of Charlie’s habits Charlie had a load of habits that made him a real character. Some of them we’ve already seen but he had loads more too. Though he had his favourite spots, he sat in everything, on everything and under everything. He would drink out of any receptacle – buckets, ponds and baths. His mum frequently turned round and found his head in her water glass. He preferred his water natural or filtered. He loved the spring water you find in some tins of tuna. He loved the water you get around mozzarella cheese. He loved cheese full stop, and milk, and cream, and ice cream and badgered his mum for them, though she seldom succumbed. There were some things he wouldn’t eat which were surprising, others that he did eat that were equally surprising. When he went to a cattery he usually put on weight, much to his mum’s horror. When his mum was in the loo he would come and find her. When she was having a bath he’d come and find a place in the bathroom – sometimes the sink and occasionally the edge of the bath, leading to one near disaster when he, as clumsy as ever, nearly fell in. Charlie had some funny likes and dislikes. Some smells drove him wild, others he avoided. He hated the smell of lavender, which was a shame ‘cos his mother loved it and had it in all her creams. Some of them he would just about tolerate, sitting right on the end of her knees and giving her a look if her hands went too close. Others he wouldn’t tolerate at all, jumping down and leaving the room if she used them. He had the usual cat habits of getting under his mum’s feet, especially going up and down the stairs and, like all cats, was a marvellous ham actor, dramatically collapsing at her feet when tired or hungry. ‘Sorry, mum, I just can’t manage another step!’ He hated having his tummy touched and was not so keen on having his tail and paws touched. He was absolutely brilliant at giving you filthy looks and his tail would thrash. If he was fed up with what you were doing or wanted to get your attention he would give you a nip. If it was a sunny day he would frequently sit in a patch of sun on the carpet. He also loved sunbathing in the garden and would come in when to hot and collapse on the floor, his ears red. Bizarrely, he wasn’t that bothered by rain. His mum would quite often look out and see him sitting in the rain. He would come in absolutely soaked and jump on to her lap. Sometimes he would shake like a dog. He would lick himself and settle down, leaving her rather damp. He hated being picked up and was rubbish about taking medicine. He loathed the vets and his cat basket, which was a shame for a cat who was often getting into fights. His mum tried to spend some quality time with him every day however late she was. He would sit on one arm and snooze, sometimes with his head on her breast, sometimes with his face hidden under her arm. He would move around from one side to the other or lie across her lap, all stretched out. She could tell when he was really falling asleep because his head and body would sink into her and then he would either start yumming with his mouth or, more frequently, chasing rabbits in his sleep, but when he was an adult he was never so tired that she could clip his nails. She did spend hours grooming him. Even though he was a short hair, his fur was very long and very thick. Despite all the combing he still would sick up hair balls. She would pick his scabs, like the vet told her to, and kill his fleas. Sometimes he would just be sitting there and he would suddenly look up above his head. No matter what, his mother would always look up to see what he was looking at. Sometimes, when he was really relaxed and sitting on her arm, she could stroke his head for ages and his head would tilt farther and farther back ‘til his throat was all stretched out and she could caress his whole head. Other times, when he was hungry, he would try and get her to sick up his food like a wild animal by poking his nose and his mouth in hers. Like all male cats, he walked around with his tail in the air and put his bum in your face. He had the same habits as any cat of licking himself intimately in the middle of the room in front of company. Sometimes he would stop or even fall asleep with his head under his back leg and his tongue half out. He always licked his face and paws after eating, however small the item. His mum guessed it must be some feline instinct from hunting days like with big cats. Sometimes she only knew he had found something to eat when he came indoors licking his face. When that happened, she suspected he’d been nicking Bunty’s food again. When she lay down, Charlie would lie on his mum’s chest or right under her chin. If she was gardening he would lie up against her. When he came in to jump on her lap, his paws might be little patches of real heat or cold as ice. Being a tall cat, he could stretch out and take a whole double bed up, but he could also wrap himself into a tiny little ball. When it was finally time for bed, she would turn everything off and have short chat with him. He would butt her forehead with his and lick her face. Then she would get up to feed him. It was the only time he was quick about getting up. Most of the time, if he was on her lap he would be very reluctant to move for anything or anybody. Chapter 9 – In which Charlie leaves his mum Looking back on it, I think Charlie’s mum was lucky to have him for 8 years, even though it doesn’t seem anywhere long enough. When Charlie was about 8 months old, he was poisoned. He came in one night in a really weird way, all jittery and nervy. His mum was concerned so she made sure he was settled for the night and the next morning she checked on him again. He was even more jittery and nervy, jumping every time she touched him. She guessed he had something wrong with him so she phoned the vet. ‘It sounds like he’s been poisoned’, they said, ‘bring him in right away’. She took him to the vets and they confirmed he had been poisoned and that he was very, very ill. He stayed in for two days, on a drip and sedated. If he drank and ate, everything would be ok. His mum was really worried about him so she phoned regularly. Luckily he did drink and eat when the sedative wore off so, with great relief, she took him home. 3 other cats were poisoned at the same time, including Bunty next door. One actually died. Everyone was horrified, though the vets said it was easy for cats to be poisoned – they absorb poisons through their paws – and Auntie Steff copied a lot of warning leaflets and put them through peoples’ doors. Charlie’s mum wrote an article for the local paper warning people about chemicals like Jeyes Fluid, and encouraging people to be organic in their gardens. Charlie had regular checkups. Most of the vets and vet nurses thought he was wonderful. He was a big cat, but lithe. They would look at him and say that he looked like he was at least 5 kilos, but when they weighed him he was never more than 4.5 kilos, active and fit. When Charlie was 6, just before his 7th birthday, he developed what was suspected to be cystitis. He was in pain and couldn’t wee, producing blood. His mum took him to the vet. They said it was cystitis, rare in male cats and potentially fatal. He was given some injections and went home and seemed to get better. Then, this year, around the same time of year he had another attack. His mum managed to get a sample of his wee this time and took it to the vet with him. It was full of white blood cells. He was given all the same drugs. His mum upped his water supply and changed his food. Everything seemed fine, though he was losing a little condition, had more fleas than normal and seemed a bit stiff, staying closer to home. His claws were growing long and his mum wondered if he was getting enough exercise and scratching. He injured his foot, which called for another trip to the vet and more jabs. He was due for his annual check up in two weeks, but he was still full of beans, still chatting up visitors and still in charge. It was wet that night, and cold. He’d got wet through and his mum had towelled him down and kissed his head and chucked him under the chin when she fed him before going to bed. Then he didn’t come in for breakfast and wasn’t at home for tea. We found him in another garden. He was perfect, just curled up. We took him home and dried him up and I held him for ages because I am his mum – I guess you worked that out – and he was my baby. I don’t know what killed him – except that it was natural. I can only think it was his kidneys. I didn’t add two and two together about his poisoning and his kidney problems - and for that I don’t know if I’ll forgive myself. He was too young to die, but had lived through so much since his poisoning. I find it difficult to understand why he was outside, why he didn’t stay in – but other people say that cats know and go away to be on their own, and that they’re very good at hiding things. There are too many ‘if onlys....’ We buried him in my garden, in a spot where he liked to sunbathe, where he can call the birds. He has a hamstone headstone I can take with me if and when I move, though I don’t like the idea of leaving him. It reminds me of his colour and gets warm in the sun like he did. I miss him so much, it is like a pain. I am trying to think of him at home on a marvellous farm with Tuna and Mackerel and all his friends and relations. Bunty will go to join him there, and one day we will all be together again. He will be stretching and barking at me: ‘Come on, mum. It’s about time! I’m hungry!’ About the Author Arabella Yandle lives in the West Country. She is a teacher and loves all things creative. This first book is one she has written as a tribute to her cat and her friends. https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/bellabean