In a dark dark cave, a litter of kittens tumbled over each other and fought about what they were going to do when they were grown up Witch’s Cats.
‘I shall be bad!’ said Sooty proudly. ‘I shall stir potions with my tail and ride on my witch’s broomstick.’
‘I shall fly all by myself!’ boasted Sweep.
‘No you shan’t,’ said his sister crossly. ‘You haven’t got wings’.
‘Well, I shall help my witch cast a spell to give me wings!’
Adso stayed quiet, for all he longed to do was catch mice and play with the darn for the socks, mind the baby while they slept and sit by the master while he snoozed. Yes, Adso wanted to be a Kitchen Cat.
The little kittens grew older and were allowed to go nearer and nearer to the outside of the cave. As they did, they looked at Adso in horror.
‘Adso! You are not black like a Witch’s Cat! What is wrong with you?’
Adso looked down at himself. Sure enough, his fur was grey and he had little white socks on his paws. Sweep nudged them and miaowed. ‘How can you be a witch’s cat with white socks?’ The little cats all began to laugh, and their laughter carried up the cave to the witch.
That was how poor Adso found himself all alone on the mountain, for a witch had no use for a grey cat with white socks, even if he did have lovely green eyes. He was so afraid on the lonely mountain path by himself that his tears ran down his cheeks and made his fur wet. He wept so piteously he gave himself the hiccups, and frightened himself with each gulp.
Then Adso decided that, if he was going to be a Kitchen Cat, he needed to find a house. So he pulled himself together, cleaned his paws and face and journeyed off through the mountain in search of a Kitchen.
But the people on the mountain knew all about the Witch and her Cats, and they wanted nothing to do with a Witch’s Cat, even one with grey fur and white socks. Every time Adso found a little cabin with a glowing light, he would straighten himself up and tap on the door and prepare to ask in his most lovely manners if they would like him to be their Kitchen Cat. And every time, poor Adso was told to go away, sometimes with pity, sometimes crossly and once even very angrily indeed.
It was no use, he thought to himself as he sat on the path by himself again, tears dripping down his whiskers. No one would ever want him to be their Kitchen Cat, and he was no good as a Witch’s Cat either. He was trying to think of what to do when he heard the terrible noise of a horse coming. He scrambled into the bushes, afraid of the giant hooves and big teeth, but was brave enough to peep out between the leaves as it passed.
A Man was riding on the horse, the biggest Man Adso had ever seen. He began to shake as the big Man came closer and closer, and closed his eyes as he felt the big Man reach down for him.
But the big Man only spoke in a language Adso didn’t understand, before stroking him softly. Adso felt his little heart lift! Surely this Man would like him to be his Kitchen Cat. Adso rubbed his face against the big Man’s cheek to tell him so. The big Man carefully put him down his shirt, to sit in his pocket. The bumping of the horse made him giggle, especially when the Man rode very fast.
Adso had made up his mind: he was going to be this Man’s Kitchen Cat.
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*with apologies to Ursula Moray Williams and the story of Gobbolino
