Copycat by Colin Dann Read Free Book Online

remained motionless.
    A whisper of a rustle behind him made him give a low growl. He was expecting more competition, but didn’t turn his head. The next thing he knew Pinkie was beside him. She wasn’t purring and made no attempt to nuzzle him.
    ‘Human in the house,’ he hissed sharply. ‘She’ll see you!’ Sammy was only too aware that Pinkie’s colouring could be picked out from a long way off.
    His mate scuttled away to another part of the garden, but not before the girl in the kitchen had spied her. Suspecting immediately that the white cat was the cause of the unfamiliar scent indoors, the girl ran round to the open door, clapping her hands and calling, ‘Shoo! Go away! Shoo! Shoo!’ The terrified Pinkie vanished. Sammy, badly frightened himself, slunk deeper into the bush, only just managing to stave off an instinctive desire to flee. The girl, satisfied that she had rid the area of the intruder, returned indoors and closed the patio door. Minutes later she left the house and the coast was clear. Sammy had survived.
    Not until he was positive that there was no risk did he stir and begin to call Pinkie. Monty came into the garden.
    ‘There’s plenty left,’ said the black cat. ‘Enough for two. The girl must think I’m a glutton.’
    Sammy called Pinkie more urgently. She didn’t answer his calls and he grew more and more fretful. Then hunger gripped him and took command. The food-bowl beckoned. Before he could stop himself Sammy had licked it clean. He looked at the empty bowl ruefully. ‘Well, she couldn’t have been hungry or she would have come,’ he muttered to himself by way of an excuse. But he felt guilty and a cheat. ‘I’ll let her have all my share next time,’ he decided. ‘That’ll make it all right.’
    But it wasn’t all right. Pinkie had made a decision herself. And that was to rely on her own hunting skills and steer clear of anything to do with humans.
    She recovered quickly from her fright once she was on the other side of the high wall again. The gently flowing river and the quietness of the towpath in the early morning soothed her spirits. She roamed far along the bank, content with her own company. Sammy’s ideas and hers seemed so far apart that she almost felt able to put him out of her mind. She believed now that the best way to avoid detection by the dreaded patrols was to use the wit and cunning of the wild creature she really was. It simply wasn’t possible for her to try to ape a pampered pet as Sammy had planned to do. Maybe he could succeed in that way. His kitten days had been spent in domesticity. But she knew she could never make a success of pretending to be a fireside pussy cat.
    As Pinkie sought her prey the thought of Monty’s meat – its smell, its taste – lingered in her mind. It wouldn’t be easy to blot that out. A skinny mouse or two was a poor substitute. She hoped for something more sustaining.
    A harsh voice suddenly interrupted her thoughts. ‘Looking for grub?’
    Pinkie swung round. Another white cat, hardly bigger than herself, was climbing up the bank from the river. It was as if she were looking at her double.
    ‘I’ve just been having a drink,’ the cat explained. ‘Have you caught anything?’
    ‘Er – not yet. Who are you?’ Pinkie enquired.
    ‘I could almost be your twin,’ came the reply. ‘Except I see you’re older than I am.’
    ‘I’m not that old,’ Pinkie protested.
    ‘No? Well, I’m the Pub Cat. They call me Snowy.’
    ‘How original.’
    ‘And you?’
    ‘Pinkie.’
    ‘Pinkie? Funny name for a white cat!’
    ‘I’m pink underneath.’
    ‘Very droll,’ said Snowy. ‘Look, that’s where I live. Where my picture hangs over the path.’
    Pinkie recognized the very spot where she and Sammy had escaped from the car. The building had a sign bracketed to the wall on the river side with a white cat painted on it. The sign swung slightly in the breeze. Pinkie didn’t know anything about pictures or pubs but