The Tale of Kitten Clamber
There was once a marbled cat called Mrs Splatter-Splodge. She lived in a small cottage in a tropical Vietnamese forest with her two kittens, Clamber and Climber.
Now, Climber was a good little marbled kitten, who liked to climb trees and catch flying squirrels for his mother to bake into pies. But Clamber was a bad little marbled kitten, who was always getting lost and spoiling her clothes.
'Now, children,' Mrs Splatter-Splodge said one day, 'I am expecting Cousin Spottypussy for tea. I am going to dress you in your best clothes, and then I want both of you out of the way while I get things ready.'
Climber sat very still while his mother washed his face and ears, and put him into a little blue suit.
When Clamber's turn came, she wriggled and hissed and scratched, and it was all her mother could do to tug a nice white pinafore over her naughty little head.
'Remember,' said Mrs Splatter-Splodge, 'keep your clothes clean and tidy, don't talk to strangers, and do not go out of the jungle!'
The two kittens waved to their mother and trotted off together through the thick trees.
'Shall we pick dear little flowers for Cousin Spottypussy?' said Climber.
'If you like,' said Clamber. 'Why don't you climb a tree and see if you can find some blossoms?'
Climber liked this idea, and ran up the nearest tree. But Clamber had no intention of picking flowers. She ran away as fast as she could, tearing her pinafore on the branches as she went.
Presently, Clamber arrived in a big and muddy field of long grass. She dirtied her little feet as she squelched through it, and when she jumped at a midge, she landed on her forepaws so that the sleeves of her pinafore sank into the mud.
When Clamber tried to pull herself out the mud, she realised that she was stuck! She began to yowl, pulling and wriggling with all her might, but her front legs would not come free.
Presently a batallion of soldiers came by. One nearly trampled her, but when he heard her cry he looked down, and saw that she was stuck.
'Poor little thing,' he said, crouching to pull her out of the mud, while the other soldiers went on walking by. 'There now. Run home to your mother.'
Clamber was about to do just that, when suddenly a burst of machine gun fire frightened her out of her wits. She had only ever heard machine gun fire at a distance, sometimes in a faraway part of the jungle, but usually far out in the fields. Now she understood why her mother told her never to leave the jungle.
Once over her first fright, Clamber tried to run, but the kind soldier fell to his knees and pinned her to the ground with his body.
Eventually, the gunfire stopped. Clamber hoped the soldier would get off her, but he stayed where he was, so she wriggled out from underneath him. When she turned to look at him, she saw that there was blood on his uniform, and on her pinafore too. She ran to the soldier, realising that he had saved her life, and tried to lick his wound.
'Get away!' another soldier said, nudging her with his heavy boot, then stooping down to examine his floored comrade. 'Evans, you damn moron! Why did you go and do a fool thing like that? It's only some stupid jungle cat!'
Terrified that the soldier would die, Clamber ran back towards the jungle, blinded by tears. Very soon, she ran headlong into somebody, and they both tumbled head-over-heals.
'I say, young lady, watch where you are going!'
It was Doctor Charlie Cheekyballs, the red-shanked douc.
'Oh, Doctor Cheekyballs!' wept Clamber. 'You must help! One of the soldiers saved me from the terrible noise, but he was injured himself, and I am so afraid he might die! He's just through there.'
'I see,' said Charlie Cheekyballs, thoughtfully scracthing his red-stockinged legs. 'That is unfortunate. You know, the soldiers might not take kindly to a monkey offering his services...'
'Oh, but you must help! Please, Doctor Cheekyballs!'
'Hmm, I don't know...' said Charlie Cheekyballs, picking the fleas from his white-spotted bottom as he deliberated. 'Well... all right then, young Splatter-Splodge. But you must promise that you will never stray from the jungle again.'
'Oh, I promise!' said Clamber. 'Thank you, Doctor!'
'Run along home now.'
Clamber ran, and Charlie Cheekyballs ambled towards the scene of the accident.
'Fear not, gentlemen!' he said, pushing his way past the concerned soldiers, and flexing his fingers when he reached the injured man. 'I'm a doctor.'
The soldiers looked at each other. Then one of them said, 'This country is weird.'
Clamber, meanwhile, got home safely and was met by Climber coming down a tree.
'Where have you been?' he said. 'Mother has been so worried, Clamber!'
'You won't believe it, Climber!' said Clamber. 'There was –'
'Clamber, thank goodness!' cried Mrs Splatter-Splodge, running out of the house. 'Where have you been? And...'
She gasped in horror at the mud, and especially at the blood.
'Just see what you have done to your pinafore!'
© A.R. Collins, 2016
Now, Climber was a good little marbled kitten, who liked to climb trees and catch flying squirrels for his mother to bake into pies. But Clamber was a bad little marbled kitten, who was always getting lost and spoiling her clothes.
'Now, children,' Mrs Splatter-Splodge said one day, 'I am expecting Cousin Spottypussy for tea. I am going to dress you in your best clothes, and then I want both of you out of the way while I get things ready.'
Climber sat very still while his mother washed his face and ears, and put him into a little blue suit.
When Clamber's turn came, she wriggled and hissed and scratched, and it was all her mother could do to tug a nice white pinafore over her naughty little head.
'Remember,' said Mrs Splatter-Splodge, 'keep your clothes clean and tidy, don't talk to strangers, and do not go out of the jungle!'
The two kittens waved to their mother and trotted off together through the thick trees.
'Shall we pick dear little flowers for Cousin Spottypussy?' said Climber.
'If you like,' said Clamber. 'Why don't you climb a tree and see if you can find some blossoms?'
Climber liked this idea, and ran up the nearest tree. But Clamber had no intention of picking flowers. She ran away as fast as she could, tearing her pinafore on the branches as she went.
Presently, Clamber arrived in a big and muddy field of long grass. She dirtied her little feet as she squelched through it, and when she jumped at a midge, she landed on her forepaws so that the sleeves of her pinafore sank into the mud.
When Clamber tried to pull herself out the mud, she realised that she was stuck! She began to yowl, pulling and wriggling with all her might, but her front legs would not come free.
Presently a batallion of soldiers came by. One nearly trampled her, but when he heard her cry he looked down, and saw that she was stuck.
'Poor little thing,' he said, crouching to pull her out of the mud, while the other soldiers went on walking by. 'There now. Run home to your mother.'
Clamber was about to do just that, when suddenly a burst of machine gun fire frightened her out of her wits. She had only ever heard machine gun fire at a distance, sometimes in a faraway part of the jungle, but usually far out in the fields. Now she understood why her mother told her never to leave the jungle.
Once over her first fright, Clamber tried to run, but the kind soldier fell to his knees and pinned her to the ground with his body.
Eventually, the gunfire stopped. Clamber hoped the soldier would get off her, but he stayed where he was, so she wriggled out from underneath him. When she turned to look at him, she saw that there was blood on his uniform, and on her pinafore too. She ran to the soldier, realising that he had saved her life, and tried to lick his wound.
'Get away!' another soldier said, nudging her with his heavy boot, then stooping down to examine his floored comrade. 'Evans, you damn moron! Why did you go and do a fool thing like that? It's only some stupid jungle cat!'
Terrified that the soldier would die, Clamber ran back towards the jungle, blinded by tears. Very soon, she ran headlong into somebody, and they both tumbled head-over-heals.
'I say, young lady, watch where you are going!'
It was Doctor Charlie Cheekyballs, the red-shanked douc.
'Oh, Doctor Cheekyballs!' wept Clamber. 'You must help! One of the soldiers saved me from the terrible noise, but he was injured himself, and I am so afraid he might die! He's just through there.'
'I see,' said Charlie Cheekyballs, thoughtfully scracthing his red-stockinged legs. 'That is unfortunate. You know, the soldiers might not take kindly to a monkey offering his services...'
'Oh, but you must help! Please, Doctor Cheekyballs!'
'Hmm, I don't know...' said Charlie Cheekyballs, picking the fleas from his white-spotted bottom as he deliberated. 'Well... all right then, young Splatter-Splodge. But you must promise that you will never stray from the jungle again.'
'Oh, I promise!' said Clamber. 'Thank you, Doctor!'
'Run along home now.'
Clamber ran, and Charlie Cheekyballs ambled towards the scene of the accident.
'Fear not, gentlemen!' he said, pushing his way past the concerned soldiers, and flexing his fingers when he reached the injured man. 'I'm a doctor.'
The soldiers looked at each other. Then one of them said, 'This country is weird.'
Clamber, meanwhile, got home safely and was met by Climber coming down a tree.
'Where have you been?' he said. 'Mother has been so worried, Clamber!'
'You won't believe it, Climber!' said Clamber. 'There was –'
'Clamber, thank goodness!' cried Mrs Splatter-Splodge, running out of the house. 'Where have you been? And...'
She gasped in horror at the mud, and especially at the blood.
'Just see what you have done to your pinafore!'
© A.R. Collins, 2016
