years ago, when my daughters were very young, I used to write little stories about the things they loved. This is one of them about our adorable (and sometimes slightly chaotic) family cat.
Suitable for ages 4 to 8 (read-aloud).
Story 2 of 2 in the “Rosie the Cat” series
When Rosie Met Sammy
Rosie is a small black and white cat. She lives in a big house and is looked after by two little girls.
Emily and Rebecca loved looking after Rosie, and each night they fed her and let her go outside to play.
One night, after Rosie had eaten her supper, she walked down the garden path, jumped onto the wall at the bottom of the garden, and settled down to sleep. All was quiet… well, almost.
Rosie could hear someone crying.
She looked up and down. She saw nothing. She looked left and right, and there, at the end of the wall, she saw a small squirrel sitting with its head in its paws, crying.
Rosie quietly walked over to the poor, sobbing animal.
“Hello,” said Rosie.
“Hello,” sobbed the squirrel.
“I’m Rosie,” said Rosie.
“I’m Sammy,” answered the squirrel.
“What’s the matter, Sammy?” asked Rosie.
“I’m lost,” replied Sammy, and he began to cry again. “I was playing, then exploring, and now I’m lost. I can’t find my way home.”
Rosie looked around to try to help her new friend.
“Do you live in these bushes?” she asked, trying to help.
Sammy looked at the bushes in the garden. They looked dark and prickly.
“No,” answered Sammy.
Rosie looked around again.
“Do you live in the shed?” she asked, looking towards the shed at the bottom of her garden.
Sammy looked at the shed. It looked warm, dry, and friendly, but it wasn’t where he lived.
“No,” the sad squirrel answered again.
“I live in a tree,” said Sammy. “In a drey.”
“A drey?” questioned Rosie.
“Yes, a drey is the place where squirrels live. They are dry, comfortable, and warm, and they are built high in trees.”
Suddenly, somewhere in the distance, a dog barked, giving Rosie and Sammy a fright.
“I don’t like it here,” said Sammy.
“Can you remember anything about where your drey is?” asked Rosie.
“Well,” said Sammy, thinking hard, “it’s in a tree. In fact, there are a lot of trees near it. It’s near a place where children play, and there is a small stream nearby.”
Rosie beamed a huge smile.
“I think I know where that is, Sammy.”
“Really? Is it far away?” asked Sammy, now smiling too.
“Not very far at all,” said Rosie.
They jumped down from the garden wall, and Rosie led the way. “We’ll stick to the shadows,” she said quietly, “and keep away from the street lights.”
They moved quickly down the road, staying close to the hedges, before darting into a big bush at the end. Cars passed by, their headlights sweeping across the road, but Rosie and Sammy stayed perfectly still, hidden in the darkness.
“This way,” whispered Rosie.
They slipped down the side of a house and into a back garden. Rosie peered ahead. The coast was clear.
She leapt over a fence, with Sammy hopping close behind, and they dropped down on the other side.
In front of them was a steep bank, and below it, a small stream. Across the stream, they could see a wooded area.
Rosie spotted a fallen branch nearby.
“Over here, Sammy,” she whispered.
Together, they hurried across the branch, balancing carefully as they crossed the stream. Then they climbed up the bank on the other side and pushed through thick, dense hedges.
When they emerged, Sammy’s eyes lit up.
Across the grassy clearing in front of them, and beyond a small childrens play area was a cluster of tall trees.
“Rosie, that’s it… I’m home!” he squeaked with delight.
Sammy gave Rosie a quick, grateful hug before racing across the grass, past a climbing frame and a set of swings, and up the nearest tree. High above, Rosie could see another squirrel rush forward and wrap him in a relieved hug.
Sammy turned, waved down at Rosie, and then disappeared into his drey.
Rosie sat for a moment, watching the tree, pleased that her new friend was safe.
Then, with a flick of her tail, she turned and quietly made her way back home, ready for a well-earned sleep.
An original story by Andrew Scaife (written in 2006)
© Andrew Scaife, 2006–. All rights reserved.
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