In this narrated excerpt from Anne Fine’s children’s novel The Killer Cat Runs Away, the cat‑narrator (Puskins) recounts a series of mischievous adventures after being taken in by a wealthy woman, Miss Whippy. The cat describes how Miss Whippy, impressed by his supposed mouser abilities, rewards him with a jeweled collar, a plush bed, and a professional studio portrait. Puskins proudly carries the photograph back to his former home, where Ellie, his previous owner, is devastated by the image, believing it to be proof that her beloved cat Tuffy has been kidnapped. The narrator’s sarcastic tone mocks Ellie’s tears and the adults’ reactions, while also revealing the cat’s cunning survival tactics—stealing leftovers from kitchen bins and avoiding detection. The passage ends with Puskins hurrying back to Miss Whippy’s house, fearing that his new mistress will discover his absence.
Chapters
Hello, I'm Lois Letchford, back again reading from Anne Fine's book, The Killer Cat Runs Away. Chapter 13, The Photo of My Beautiful Tuffy. So there I was, still trying to persuade myself that the baby bird would taste as good as pepperoni. When a shadow fell over me. A woman had come out of the house. I stared at her. She stared at me. I stared at her because she'd done her hair so that it looked like one of those whippy ice cream cones. She stared at me as though She thought I were a gift from heaven. A cat! She looked at the sad little mess between my paws. And clearly a hunter. Are you a mouser too? Because there's a rustling somewhere near my kitchen door. I think I might have vermin. You could tell she was fussy just from the way she said vermin. But I was tired and hungry, so I thought, why not? Some cats do earn their keep. I would give it a go. And I was right to try, because life there could have been perfect bliss. Miss Whippy thought that she was keeping me hungry enough to eat mice, but what she didn't know is that I'm good With kitchen bins. Every time she went out, I'd step on the pedal, and when the lid flew up, I'd reach inside to hook out some half-eaten chop or the last of that chicken. After I'd had eaten, I'd carry the leftovers out into the garden and kick them out of sight behind the precious lupins. She didn't get suspicious because the rustling stopped. It only came from some dried leaf trapped under the kitchen door. I poked that out and hey presto, all the vermin gone. For 3 nights in a row she sang my praises. Oh, you're brilliant, Puskins! I could do with a mouser like you in my villa in Spain. Her villa in Spain? Was she a millionaire? You'd think so. First, she bought me a fancy jeweled collar and a swan's down cat bed. Purr! Then she bought me a classy water bowl. On the next day, she even took me into town to have my photo taken. Yes, none of that cheap hold still while I fetch my mobile stuff that I'd been used to back in Ellie's house. Miss Whippy took me into town to get a proper studio portrait. The photographer sat me on a cushion and asked me most politely to face the camera. Puskins, look this way. Yes, that's much better. A dozen different shots were taken, and I must say they came out very nicely indeed. Much better than those horrid Lots Cat posters. I was so pleased, I thought I'd take one round to show my old ungrateful family what they were missing. I picked one up by the corner, trying not to drool, carried it carefully across town to my home. Ellie was sitting on the doorstep, weeping bitterly. I shot behind a bush. Oh, Tuffy! she was whimpering. Oh, Tuffy! You've been gone so long, and how I miss you! Oh, Tuffy! I wish you'd come home! Home? Ha! Excuse me, but I have a new home now. A much, much better home, where I dine on the finest foods and people truly know how Beautiful I am! I spat the photograph out of my mouth and watched it slither in the breeze up the path towards Ellie. Curiously, she picked it up, dashing away her tears so she could peer at it more closely. Then she began to wail. Oh no! A photograph of my beautiful Tuffy! And it's not one I've ever seen before! Too true, it wasn't. It was far smarter and glossier than any photo they'd ever had of me. Ellie rushed into the house. I jumped out of sight behind the laurel bush and peered in through the window. Ellie was waving the photo in her parents' face. Mum! Dad! Look! Tuffy must have been catnapped! See, the catnappers have sent us a photo to prove it! I will admit that Ellie's mum looked most concerned, but Mr. Don't Expect Me to Put My Hand in My Pocket just muttered something along unpleasant lines of, if that pesky cat's worth even a handful of loose change, I'm a banana! If I'm not in hiding, I'd have spat at him right in the face! Psst! Ellie burst into tears again, and I jumped down. Don't you feel sorry for Ellie? Don't you dare! It's her own fault! She should have thought about how much she would miss her precious Tuffy before she started mooning over soppy kittens on the computer screen! So don't you get your knickers in a twist worrying about Worry about me! That's what I did. I suddenly thought, if I don't get back quickly, fussy Miss Whippy will have emptied the pedal bin before I'd had time to rescue my hassapa. So I hurried off.
