In this narrated excerpt from Anne Fiennes' The Killer Cat Runs Away, Lois Letchford voices the wandering cat who has left Ellie’s house. The cat muses on returning to Ellie, then notices a series of lost‑cat posters featuring its own grumpy photo, confirming that it is indeed missing. Continuing its search, the cat discovers what it believes to be the perfect home: a garden with wide windowsills, a fish pond, and an owner who feeds it fish and offers a warm windowsill nap. The cat revels in the abundance, indulges in fish, and enjoys the quiet. However, the idyll is shattered when a noisy group of five children (described as “carrot‑topped hooligans”) swarm the garden, attempt to claim the cat as a pet, and one scratches it, causing bleeding. Realizing the chaos and lack of genuine welcome, the cat decides the perfect home was an illusion and leaves, reaffirming its independence.
Chapters
I'm Lois Letchford, reading from Anne Fiennes' The Killer Cat Runs Away, chapter 10, The Perfect Home. I spent the night in the tool shed. Then in the morning, I set off to find a better home. I had a tiny thought that I might go back to Ellie. I was quite sure she would have realised her mistake by now and be lying face down on her bed, sobbing her poor broken heart out and wailing my name to the heavens. But as I strolled along the street, what should I see but a notice stuck to a lamppost? And then another and another and more and more, all the same. I stretched up to take a look. It was a lost cat notice with a photo of the roughest, toughest, sourest, grumpiest-looking maggot you've ever seen in your life. I couldn't help but think, who'd want to have that thug back? Then I peered a little closer. It was me. It was me! I took a long, long look down the street. Sure enough, far in the distance, I could see Ellie's mum stopping at every lamppost to stick up yet another of her insulting posters. The cheek of it! For one thing, I am not a lost cat. I am a cat who has moved on to better things. And for another, they'd better— they'd picked the worst photo ever. Not my best side, I mean. I do not look like that. Not all the time, anyhow. Not every day. Sometimes, perhaps, if I am really in a fed-up mood, But hardly ever. Almost never. No one would recognise me from that photo. No one. Not in a million years. So I strolled on quite happily. Thought it was odd how many people I saw glance at the posters and bend down to try to pick me up. I simply spat them off. Then I found what I was looking for. The perfect home. It had wide windowsills to lounge on. The garden was a jungle. Good hunting there. Some of the windows were unlatched. The wheelie bin lid was off. And best of all, there was a fish pond with sweet little goldfish darting about in it. Oh, bliss! Oh, sheer and perfect bliffs! If there's one thing I love to do, It stretch out along the side of a fishpond in the sun and idly dip in a paw to try to— No, no time to think about that now. I went over to meet the owner. He was washing up. We had a conversation. It went like this. Hello, puss. Where did you spring from? Purrrr. Purrrr. Pfffff. I'm slinking round his legs to let him know I'm feeling peckish. Hungry? Fancy some leftover fish? Pfffff. Putting down a dish. There you go. Finish that lot and you'll feel a whole lot better. Chomp, chomp, chomp. I thought it was heaven. I ate the fish. A little bit too much dill, I thought, but hey, not everyone's a master chef. I had a nap on his windowsill. When it got chilly, I slipped back into the house through one of the unlatched windows, and I felt like a snack at lunchtime, so I set off For the little pond. Shame, he was out there hanging out the washing. Well, never mind. Fresh fish as that will keep. I took a turn around the side of the house and had a poke through the recycling bins. Half a fish finger. Delicious. Just like the song. Yes, I'd found the perfect home. Or so I thought. By then, at half past 3, my world caved in. There was a stampede up the garden path. A pack of carrot-topped hooligans, all shrieking and yelling. Look! On the windowsill! A cat! Daddy's got us a real pet! Not just one of those stupid goldfish, but a real live cat! Bagsy, I cuddled it first! No, I'm the one who saw it, so I get to cuddle! Well, if I'm last, I want to be the one to take it into school for the My Wonderful Pet Show. Nice to be wanted? Of course. But really, the noise was horrendous. While they were crowding around, I counted them. 5 carrot tops! 5 horrid, noisy children, all reaching out to grab me! I tell you, it took a good bit of hissing and spitting to get off that windowsill! Didn't they change their tune then? That horrid thing! It scratched me! Look! I'm actually bleeding! It must be wild! Who'd want to take that into school? I'd rather show everyone our lovely goldfish. We didn't really want a new pet anyway. Well, we certainly didn't want this one. Good thing too, because I wasn't staying. A perfect home indeed. I don't think so.
