**Diary Entry – 15th September**
He reached out, wanting to stroke the fierce animal, but the cat flinched, slithering away from the outstretched hand in a strange, awkward crawl…
“Look at him!” the headmistress nearly screamed. “Parents have been called, and he hasn’t even a shred of shame!”
Tom stared straight into the furious eyes of Ms. Thompson. On the face of a ten-year-old boy there was not a trace of remorse for the wicked deed. With an air of boredom, he listened silently to her questioning.
“Burning the school register!” Her voice turned into a shriek.
“Wait outside,” his father ordered, his tone stern.
The boy left the headmistress’s office, slamming the door. He didn’t care if he was punished again. He couldn’t have done otherwise—he had given his word.
As for his parents, they would soon forget about him, heading off on yet another expedition.
That evening, a family council decided to send Tom to the village to stay with his grandfather for the whole summer. Perhaps he could find a way to handle the young rebel…
—
“This is your daily schedule,” Granddad George, a former soldier, pointed to a sheet of paper covered in neat handwriting. “In the village, there’s no time for mischief – everyone needs to eat and drink.”
“What, am I a slave?” Tom blurted out after reading the long list of chores.
Granddad George smiled, appreciating the warrior’s glare his grandson shot at him. The day before, his son had brought Tom, endlessly complaining how difficult he had become. Constant fights at school, complaints from teachers and the headmistress – all of this was eating into research time. Tom’s parents had left on an expedition, relieved to leave their rebel son with his granddad.
Days slowly passed, filled with unfamiliar tasks…
Tom rose with the roosters, helping his granddad feed the spotted cow Daisy, the four piglets, and the bay horse Archie. Fetching water, stacking chopped firewood, weeding the vegetable beds…
The chores never ended, but Tom had given his word not to complain.
“Is he watching me?” Tom asked one day, warily eyeing his granddad’s beloved dog, Max, a large hound who followed him like a shadow whenever he left the yard.
“He senses you’re not from around here – he worries you might get lost,” Granddad replied with a hint of irony.
Tom grew to love fishing. The lad quickly learned how to handle a rod, and after a couple of weeks, Granddad George started letting him go alone to the river.
The best catches came early in the morning, when the air was still cool. Tom loved sitting with his rod on the bank, watching the sunrise paint everything in light. Such a sight was impossible in the city.
One early morning, settled with his rods on the bank of a picturesque stream, Tom noticed movement in the tall grass.
Somewhere nearby a frog croaked loudly, then a dog barked. Familiar sounds, but…
The grass rustled again, and the boy decided to investigate.
Treading carefully among the high grass, Tom peered into the morning twilight, but saw nothing. Deciding he had imagined it, he was about to return to his rods when he heard a faint, pitiful whimper.
He bent down and parted the tall grass with his hands. A cat hissed fiercely at him, ears flattened in warning. The animal’s eyes told him to keep his distance, and the hiss was a clear threat.
“Oh…” Tom gasped in surprise. “What are you hissing at?”
He reached out, wanting to stroke the fierce animal, but the cat flinched, slithering away from the outstretched hand in a strange, awkward crawl.
Just then, the light grew stronger, and Tom saw bloodstains on the cat’s pale fur. A picture from the recent past flashed before his eyes – four older boys tormenting a striped tomcat with a frostbitten right ear…
Tom shuddered, pushing the painful memory away. The cat was injured – it needed help.
He couldn’t pick it up with bare hands – it was angry and clearly in pain. Looking around, he found nothing suitable. He was wearing a light jacket against the morning chill.
Slipping off the jacket, the boy approached the hissing cat:
“Here, kitty-kitty! I just want to help… Kit-kat!”
Mustering its last strength, the cat darted aside, but Tom was quicker. Throwing the jacket over the cat, he wrapped it carefully and pressed it to his chest. Then he sprinted home at full speed, forgetting about the rods.
“Granddad, will the cat be okay?” Tom asked for the hundredth time, anxiously glancing at the summer kitchen door.
“Don’t worry, Angela’s a vet – she knows about wounds,” Granddad George said, patting his grandson’s head. “Go fetch your rods; when you get back, there’ll be news.”
Tom nodded and ran quickly to the river for the rods. He was in such a hurry he could barely catch his breath when he returned.
At that moment, Angela’s slight figure appeared in the summer kitchen doorway. The elderly woman said something to Granddad George, making him smile joyfully.
“How is she?” Tom burst out.
“She’ll be fine,” Angela replied. “Looks like a dog bit her… I’ve treated the wounds; now you need to care for her.”
“I’ll do everything!” Tom exclaimed, tears of relief and joy in his eyes.
That evening, he didn’t leave the sleeping cat’s side. He made an improvised bed from a box and an old blanket, setting bowls of food and water beside it, and just sat watching her sleep.
“Are you going to sleep here?” Granddad asked.
“Can I?” Tom asked hopefully.
“Better we take her into the cottage,” his granddad suggested.
They carried the cat into Tom’s room, placing the box next to his bed.
Looking closely, the cat’s coat was a light beige with faint stripes.
Tom sat on the edge of the bed, still watching his patient sleep.
“You know, I look at you and marvel,” Granddad George said thoughtfully, sitting on a chair in the corner. “You’re not lazy, you’re clever, responsible, and you have kindness in you. So why do you cause trouble?”
Tom shrugged instead of answering.
“Your last stunt with the school register,” Granddad pressed. “You didn’t just burn it for no reason, did you?”
“I gave my word, and a promise is a promise,” Tom mumbled.
He reached out and gently stroked the sleeping cat’s head.
“To whom did you give your word?” Granddad’s suspicions were confirmed – he never believed his grandson was guilty.
“In the basement of the building next to the school, there’s a stray cat I used to feed, and I talked to him, just like you do with Max,” Tom confessed, sniffing. “I dreamed of taking him home, but my parents wouldn’t even listen… I gave my word to Stripes that I’d always protect him.”
“And what happened to that cat?” Granddad asked softly, holding his breath.
“Older boys were torturing him,” Tom’s voice cracked. “I asked them to stop; they agreed, on condition that I burn the register…”
“Bastards!” the old man burst out. “Where is that cat now?”
“A woman took him, the caretaker told me,” Tom said, stroking the sleeping cat again. “I wish I knew how Stripes is doing…”
“You did well,” Granddad stroked his grandson’s head. “You kept your word – that’s right. But why didn’t you tell your parents?”
“They never asked,” Tom replied simply.
Days passed… The wounds on Marshmallow – as Tom named the cat – healed. She stopped hissing and looking suspiciously at people.
Marshmallow accepted the care of the boy who had saved her life. Soon, prettier and noticeably gaining weight, the cat moved to sleep on Tom’s bed.
The lad’s dream had come true, but often in his sleep he saw Stripes, the striped tom with the frostbitten ear, rubbing against his legs, purring loudly when Tom held him.
“Where are you?” Tom asked in his dream, but got no answer.
July passed, then August…
Tom waited for his parents to come for him, but instead, his granddad announced he needed to go to town on business. After the morning chores, Granddad George left the farm to Tom and caught the train.
He returned in the evening, tired but pleased. He praised Tom for the orderly state of things and, with a mysterious smile, called him into the cottage, where he had earlier carried a large box.
“Come here, grandson,” Granddad George pointed to the sofa. “Look who came back with me from town.”
Tom walked into the room and looked at the sofa. The boy blinked several times, afraid he was imagining it.
“Stripes!” the boy cried, gently lifting the striped tomcat with the frostbitten ear into his arms. “Granddad, you’re the best!”
The cat looked healthy and well-fed. Later, Granddad George told Tom how impressed he was by his grandson’s action, and he decided to track down the striped cat, asking the school for help.
It turned out that the caretaker had contacted a shelter to take the stray cat, fearing for its life.
At the beginning of September, Tom’s parents arrived with news that they had to leave on a long expedition, and the boy would have to stay with his granddad.
They barely recognised the cheerful, lively child as the former rebel.
“Dad, you’ve worked a miracle!” Tom’s father exclaimed.
“Learn to listen to your child,” Granddad George said sternly.
As for Tom, he was delighted to stay with his granddad and not be separated from Stripes and Marshmallow.
The rebel had turned into the most caring and responsible owner for his pets.
**Lesson learned:** Sometimes the greatest rebellion is not against authority, but against neglect – and it takes only one person’s trust to turn a wild heart into a loyal one.
