In this solo reading, Lois Letchford, author and literacy advocate, narrates Chapter 15 (“A Blur of Fur”) from Anne Fine’s children’s novel The Killer Cat Runs Away. The passage is a first‑person monologue spoken by the cat, Puskins, who recounts a frantic escape from a house, only to be caught by a veterinarian in a white coat. The vet swiftly wraps the cat in a pink towel, carries him to Miss Whippy’s patio, and brings him to the front door where Miss Whippy, pre‑occupied with packing, confronts the situation. The cat’s narration is filled with hyperbolic speed (“a rocket”, “blur of fur”), vivid humor, and a clear fear of veterinary procedures, describing the vet’s handling as a “tremendous fight” and expressing disdain for vets who “shove pills down our throats”. The reading captures the cat’s exaggerated perspective, the comedic tension between the cat, the vet, and Miss Whippy, and highlights themes of animal anxiety, authority, and the absurdity of the situation.
Chapters
Hello, I am Lois Letchford, author of the book Reverse to Memoir and literacy problem solver and adult dyslexic, reading from Anne Fine's book, The Killer Cat Runs Away, chapter 15, A Blur of Fur. Ever seen a tornado? If the answer is yes, You've not seen anything as fast as me getting out of that house. I was a rocket. I was a blur of fur that shot through the open window and up the garden path in less than half a blink. I moved so fast that I looked back to see myself pretty well still leaping out. That was my big mistake. I should have kept my eyes ahead because, before I even Catch my breath. I felt myself being snatched up and heard a man's voice. Aha! Trying to make a getaway, are you, Puskins? Well, tough luck! Gotcha! I swiveled my head around to look. Yee-ow! The man was dressed in one of those short white coats. Our vet wears at her surgery. I wriggled frantically, but all he did was hold me even more tightly. Stop struggling, Puskins! No point in my driving all the way here for a special home pickup if my patient has fled. Patient? Victim, more like it. I've had my shots already. I don't need any more. So I kept struggling madly. I scratched. I hissed. I yowled. I put up a tremendous fight. But this guy was clearly a master at hanging on to squirming animals. Before I'd even realized what was happening, he'd carried me round to Miss Whippy's sun-trapped patio and used his teeth to pull a towel down from her rotary washing line to wrap me up in it. Me! Held fast in a roll of fluffy pink! I looked like a struggling sausage. Small wonder I hate vets. They'll get you every time. I bet they even take classes in rolling harmless little pussycats up in their Old towels, so they can shove pills down our throats and stick needles into them. He carried me back to the front of the house and rang the bell. Miss Whippy must have torn herself away from packing all her fancy clothes because she came to the door. My captor held me up. Your cat's a smart one. He was trying to get away. Miss Whippy clasped her hands under her chin. Oh no! she said. Thank heavens you stopped him. If he doesn't have his shots, we can't go, and the flight is tomorrow. No problem, smarmed our most unwelcome visitor. I'll have him back to you tonight with all the paperwork you need. I tried to tell him that I'd had my shots. All of them? Way back in March! But it came out as one enormous yowl!
