Picture This: The Yowless Yarn

I would like to tell you a story of a rather scruffy kitten

Who never worn a hat or even a mitten

It never wanted to speak nor ever wanted to listen

And yet it’s story was told although it wasn’t written.

The Yowless Yarn

 

Its was an August day when the last of a litter of kittens was born unto this Earth.
Sadly from such a feat of miracles the mother cat (a queen) was exhausted from the births or so many ickle mouths to feed so she seldom noticed the littlest of her brood which meant of course it might have gone without any food.

It did not. Oh no, not at all. To get her get food this kitten would scratch and spit and biff its siblings more than a bit. You might think this troublesome kitty who was so very snitty would hiss, but no again, she was a very clever little mischievous miss.

Whenever her mama turned about to see the cause of any commotion, this little kitten would not stir; there would be no sign of motion, nor yet a mew or yowl or purr. This little kitten was very demur. (This means quiet and well-behaved looking – just goes to show how appearances can be misleading).

You might also suppose that the litter had no home, but this wasn’t true either. They hid under a throne room at the bottom of the stairs in warmth and luxury a plenty in Union Arcade Shops at No 20.

The owner of the shop, who had lived in a shoe, didn’t like to care for that many felines all at one time, but knew what to do so it wasn’t a crime. She invited the lonely and sad and depressed to take of each kitten for half a penny or less. And they did too. Some took one and some took two. One even took three with the mummy cat – phew!

Unfortunately the shopkeeper kept having many felines breeding in her shop which is why I suppose it was a supplier of pets to be well kept and all the necessaries that keep felines content, yes the lot! Time well spent. And all of pets in this shop were truly catty; for no bird, fish or dog who are just as chatty like to live there much, and nor did any featherless furless reptile, or mammal or frog.

They all tended to be looked after until they found new good homes away from the Union Arcade Shops and away from rooms with throne rooms, or so it is rumoured; but only by myths put about by felines and their gossiping representatives who all seemed to have lisps.

This is just to tell you, in case there is any doubt, that all creatures on this Earth have lots of fans most devout. (Devout means loyal and is considered a very magical quality to maintain).

So it was that all of this particular litter of kitty cats got nice new homes and well looked after in as much as anyone can look after a feline. All except of course this one scrawny, scruff ball which continued to sit demurely and say nothing at all.

The shop keeper tried to get her a good home but none would take the risk, even though she never yowled or hissed.

“She biffed that other one’s bottom, I can’t abide that in my house. It’s bound to cause criminal damage, fail to keep vermin out and get fleas,” said one client.

“Just look how tired and weary and starving all those fat ickle kittens are because of that tangled mass of mischief!” said another.

“Why I do declare this poor foster mother and her two boys need rescuing from that monster mis fit kit.” Said a third and promptly took the lot.

The kitten didn’t mind and for the first time purred. She had food all to herself for never saying a word. You might suppose she liked the shop keeper’s company then, but no. Without a hiss or a yowl, this kitten would just scowl but always look angelically demur, despite the untidiest ever scruffily clean kitten fur. (Her favourite occupation besides eating and sleeping you see was preening and cleaning herself and she was meticulousy fastidious – that mean very good – at all three activities).

It was a very strange phenomenon that this kitten never aged, for litter after litter she was put with and still she would not engage with any living thing until one day despite all hope, a lonely cat lover arrived saw it and said that they would cope.

“What with... the whole litter and the mum?” Asked the shopkeeper, already anticipating the answer to be the usual, boringly predictable “yes, of course.”

“Oh no,” said this cat lover, who himself was the last of his litter and a bit of a pathetic looking critter, “that one there... that scrawny, mischievous one that hates everything. I’ll look after that one, please.”

At this point the shopkeeper nearly fainted for it had been nearly twenty years since this kitten which never grew had been born. (Told you it was odd). At this point, the shopkeeper had several conflicting thoughts all at the same time and could feel the onset of a very nasty, permanent headache coming on.

The first thought was of delight at getting rid of it. The second was of fright, for trade had been rather good because of it and the third was the nastiest thought of all and was expressed in the simple sentence to the client. “What do you want that one for?”

Without even glancing at the shopkeeper this cat lover, without yowling or hissing, nor scratching or biting simply purred, “It’s like me and doesn’t like fighting for every little kindness or scrap of a sign of love or acceptance.”

“Oh,” said the shopkeeper. “So you wouldn’t be the sort to pull out it’s claws or tie up it’s already bent whiskers or knot or cut off it’s very bent tail then?”

“No. I would not. I am only surprised you haven’t as you seem to not like it so much. Tell you what, I’ll take it off your hands for free, right this minute you can leave it all to me. Unless of course you had plans for skinning it alive for your stew tonight...”, said the rather mysterious and unsettling cat loving client.

There was simply no answer to that which was at all reasonable or polite and so the kitten that would never age lived happily ever after with the mysterious puny runt of a man-boy cub, warm and well fed til the end of time itself. The strange thing is... they have never aged yet since time began so... you never know you might one day meet them both. And the shopkeeper became a legend among shop keepers and retired to a very nice glass slipper which some princess donated after her wedding after buying a few kittens herself to keep her company when her husband went dog walking.

Postscript: It is a very curious tale for many have said that the man-boy cub that homed this kitten was, for a incredibly and unbelievably long time, once a dog lover. So, I suppose the morale or this story is to never be too curious for we all know how that can kill a cat and perhaps, just maybe to stay calm when the majority of others are not and just... yowling yarns that don’t make sense at all.