Those of you who have read of my previous adventures in Paris and London must forgive my putting any new readers into the picture. I am a tortoiseshell cat called Pebbles because of all the different colours in my coat. I live in Paris at the top of an apartment block with my ‘family’ and my best friend, Kiki. She is a regal Burmese cat with a delicious pale chocolate coat and dark chocolate points. She is rightly proud of her royal ancestors! We are very lucky as we have a garden terrace which overlooks the Eiffel Tower. I am the seventh kitten of a tortoiseshell mother, herself a seventh kitten of a tortoiseshell queen. This has given me a magic gift! I can sprout wings and fly but only in emergencies of course. I have flown over Paris and also over the river Thames in London. We are very spoilt cats; our family often take us on their travels. Of course, they are sensible enough to realise that they need two intelligent cats to keep an eye on them. Like most cat owners, they can be dreadfully silly.
***
One spring morning, Kiki and I had been sitting on the terrace in the sunshine, admiring the lines of trees with their new leaves and the tourists in the pavement cafes far below. Suddenly Kiki meowed, ‘They’re off somewhere. I saw the passports on the table and the baggage in the hall.’
‘Well, Noah’s been singing, “Wonderful, wonderful Copenhagen” for at least a week. That might be a clue!’
Before we had reached the bottom of the stairs leading down from the terrace, we saw our travel baskets in the lounge. ‘Looks as if we’re going too. We should have listened to the words of the song!’
As usual the flight from Paris was rather boring. There were two dachshunds in the hold near us. Kiki called them ‘noisy little sausage dogs’ and they certainly yapped for most of the journey. By now we were seasoned travellers and we took the chance to catnap as much as possible.
In fact, we were half-asleep as we were wheeled off the aircraft. We’d heard Noah, the youngest boy, saying there are two airports in Copenhagen. We were going to ‘Copenhagen Airport, Kastrup’, about 8 kilometres from the city centre. I kept an eye open to check the name. You never know what silly mistakes people can make!
Soon we were bowling along in a taxi. The houses looked rather like big dolls houses and the airport and streets were very tidy and clean. After only twenty minutes we neared the town centre. The boys had been arguing about the currency. In France of course, we use euros but in Denmark they have Kroners. They seemed to be discussing which would be best to use, Kroners or Euros. It seemed you would ‘get more for your buck’ with Kroners. ‘Oh, that American slang is just too dreadful,’ yawned Kiki.
It was only twenty minutes later that we arrived in the city centre. Our hotel was in a narrow, cobbled street of tall terraced houses painted in different colors. Inside the rooms were an elegant blend of old and new. We were sharing a room with the boys. Two large and cosy baskets had been laid out by the window looking down into the street below.
‘It’s going to be the usual problem,’ I meowed softly to Kiki, ‘how can we get out to see the city?’
‘Well, we always find a solution,’ she put her paw over her mouth as she yawned elegantly.
***
The next morning the family had gone off sightseeing in the old part of the city. Kiki was sitting up on the window sill looking down on the street below. Suddenly there was a knock on the door and we could hear a key turning.
Without a meow, we dived under one of the beds, just in time to avoid a confrontation with the young girl who had come to clean the room. I purred softly to Kiki, ‘Wait till she’s in the bathroom and we can make a run for it. We can meet outside in the street.’
She swished her tail gently, always a sign of consent. From under the bed, we had a rather limited view as you can imagine. We could just see jean-clad legs and the bottom of the hoover, wandering over the carpet. We saw them walk into the bathroom and then the sound of a tap running. I nodded at Kiki and we both ran to the door, pushing it open with our paws. In seconds we were down the two flights of stairs and out into the street.
‘Where next?’ Kiki was breathing heavily.
‘You’re putting on weight. Too many treats from the boys.’ I couldn’t stop myself meowing!
Before she could argue, a very large grey tom cat appeared from a doorway.
‘Hello, ladies!’ a rich, deep voice greeted us. ‘It’s not every day I meet such beautiful queens alone on the streets!’
‘We are visitors from Paris,’ Kiki had quickly assumed her usual regal drawl. ‘Perhaps you could kindly show us the sights of the city?’
‘Certainly mademoiselles, I should be delighted.’ His English was almost perfect, just the slightest suggestion of a Danish accent. ‘I would suggest a visit to the Tivoli Gardens first.’
***
There were crowds queuing up to go through the gates. Most looked like families with kids. Our grey friend, whose name we learnt was Erik, wanted to show us the giant roller coaster, voted the best in Europe. People were travelling at over 100 Kilometres an hour, hanging upside down! Kiki found it too scary to watch. She sat under a tree with her paws over her face. Just looking at it flashing past, with passengers hanging upside down, was really scary.
‘This is one of the oldest pleasure grounds in the world. Hans Christian Anderson and Walt Disney both visited it,’ boasted Erik. ‘I want to show you the newest attraction, the Ghost House which is called “the Villa Vendetta.”’
Just standing outside the haunted house was scary enough. Then we realised this was not a ride but involved following a route through twelve separate rooms each with scary actors waiting to jump out. Kiki and I didn’t like the idea of being in the dark with a lot of screaming people rushing about. We’d probably be trampled underfoot, more horrible than the horrors hidden inside!
‘I suggest we go to Nyhavn. It’s a beautiful water front area with delicious food, ’Erik purred reassuringly.
‘I need a nice cooool drink,’ Kiki replied with one of her deepest purrs.
***
Nyhavn proved to be every bit as beautiful as Erik had boasted. It overlooks a broad canal and was once the main harbour, full of ships, merchants and sailors. The beautiful old houses have been painted different colours, looking over the broad canal, still lined with tall masted ships.
‘Look at all the tables and umbrellas. This is the place to be seen.’ Kiki fluffed out her pale chocolate fur as we strolled beside of the canal.
‘Hans Christian Anderson lived in that house when he wrote “The Princess and the Pea”, Erik yowled so loudly that the crowds sitting at the tables stared! ‘He also lived in two other houses along here at different times.’
A family enjoying coffee and ice creams had heard Erik’s remarks. Two young girls bent down to stroke us.
‘Daddy, can we give them a drink? I’m sure they’re thirsty.’
The waiter brought three metal saucers full of cool water which were very welcome. Then, to our surprise, a plate of sprats appeared which the girls put on our now empty saucers!
‘I hope they’re not lost.’ The younger girl sounded tearful.
‘Don’t worry, they have beautiful coats. Someone looks after them. Cats have a good sense of direction too.’
‘I feel very sleepy,’ meowed Kiki with an elegant yawn.
‘Why don’t we go back to the hotel?’ I suggested, ‘and plan a tour for tomorrow?’
***
The next morning was beautiful with bright sun and a light breeze, just the right weather to tour this lovely city. Yesterday’s plan worked well. As soon as we heard the cleaner in the bathroom, we slipped out of the door. Erik was sitting outside the hotel, watching the world go by. ‘I suggest we go to see Copenhagen’s most famous tourist attraction, the statue of the Little Mermaid. I can tell you two her story on the journey.’
‘Is it far from here;’ meowed Kiki; who to tell the truth was slightly lazy!
‘No, only three kilometres. We can go by metro. That will be an adventure for you.’
‘We do have a metro in Paris, you know,’ Kiki couldn’t resist reminding him. ‘But, of course, we always travel by car.’
As we strolled along in the sunshine, Erik told us about the Little Mermaid.
‘This is one of the most popular stories of Hans Christian Anderson. It’s about a beautiful mermaid who falls in love with a human prince! The statue shows her gazing sadly shoreward, hoping for a glimpse of him. The name of the sculptor was Edvard Erikson.’
‘Wasn’t it modelled on a ballerina who danced the part in a ballet version of the story?’ Trust Kiki to know that!
‘Yes, but she refused to model without her clothes, so the sculptor’s wife was the model!’
‘Quite right too! Far too cold in Denmark.’ Kiki shivered at the thought of it.
By now, we had reached the metro at Nyhavn. ‘I’ll go first and meet you on the platform. Three of us together attracts more attention.’
A few minutes later a train drew in and stopped. Following close to Erik, we hid in a corner. The carriage was empty; except for one man, deep in a newspaper. We could see little, except occasional glimpses of sky or trees and in about 16 minutes, we were there.
A large crowd of tourists were also there. Most had cameras and were busy taking shots of the statue. We crept round the edge of them on the left so we had a close view of the mermaid’s face as she looked wistfully for her Prince.
‘It’s beautiful but it’s sad too. She must be lonely here at night,’ Kiki meowed softly. ‘It would take a very handsome tom cat from a royal family, to persuade me to sit on those cold rocks!’
I looked at Erik. He seemed rather disappointed! We walked along the Langelinie Pier. It felt chilly for a moment as the wind blew across the water. A black cloud had suddenly covered the sun. We stopped for a moment to catch our breath and sat with our backs to the wind.
Suddenly, Erik yowled and dashed off back along the water front! Before we could protest or follow, we felt ourselves picked up by the scruff of our necks and bungled into a stinking, dirty sack which smelt of rotten fish. The sack was dropped down, landing with an uncomfortable bump which left the two of us with our legs wrapped round each other and our tails intertwined. By the time we had sorted ourselves out, we could hear the chugging of an outboard motor and the sound of water. We had been kidnapped and were in the bottom of a boat! We listened anxiously to low voices which seemed quite close. I guessed there were two men and they were speaking Danish. Kiki thought there were odd words of German, but they spoke too fast for us to understand anything.
The neck of the sack was tied up with twine or string but we could see the sky through small gaps. I whispered to Kiki, ‘Looks as if we could bite through that twine. It’s not tied securely!’
We guessed the boat was still on a canal or lake, rather than the open sea. ‘We must have been in here for over half an hour.’
‘Yes, but it seems like hours. The stink makes me feel sick. Just think how our coats will smell,’ moaned Kiki.
Just at that moment, we sensed the boat had stopped. Of course, our hearing is excellent. I could tell that the men had tied the craft up and were climbing out over the side.
‘This is our chance, Kiki. We have to bite through the twine and race off before they come back. I’ll stand on you and start the job and you can finish it off.’
‘My teeth are not made for such rough, dirty material.’
‘Well, you’ll have to try your best, unless you want to land up in Timbuctoo!’
As it happened, I managed to bite through the twine quite easily and push the top of the sack open with my nose and front paws. What a relief to breathe fresh air and see the sky again. As we jumped out onto the deck, we realised the boat was moored in a region of warehouses and offices, not the tourist areas we had explored. ‘Look Kiki we’ve probably only got a few minutes. We need to hide among these alleys and buildings before we go back to the central part of town.’
She flicked her tail in agreement. I think she was too frightened to meow.
Silently, as only cats can be silent, we jumped onto the quayside. The place seemed quiet with few people around. I had come to this conclusion too soon. Two rough looking men were approaching the boat! Too late, one of them had seen us. He started running along the quay, shouting over his shoulder to his fellow thief. They both came pounding over the cobbles towards us!
I sped off down one of the narrow alleys with Kiki just behind me. We dived into a doorway half way down the alley. We crouched, trembling, as we heard heavy boots on the pavement. Thankfully they ran past us. ‘Come on. Let’s go back and put them off the trail,’ I yowled at Kiki.’
A few twists and turns later, we sat to recover our breathe. Living seven floors up in an apartment does not make you racing fit. ‘Keep your eyes open for a wall which will give us a take-off point.’ No sooner had I spoken, than we heard heavy footsteps rounding the corner of the alley.
As we raced down the passage, we could hear the boots echoing in pursuit. I ran down another lane, narrowly avoiding colliding with a pile of crates. A crash behind me and a string of expletives made me smile, briefly. One of our pursuers had not been so lucky!
I could hear Kiki close on my tail. Suddenly the road widened and a pedestrian crossing loomed ahead. A small crowd was waiting to cross. Kiki and I ran between legs as a man yelled, ‘Cats, what the devil are they doing here?’ and a few angry comments in Danish which luckily and literally went over our heads. We could tell by the furious voices behind us, that the kidnappers had not escaped so easily.
Look, there’s a wall running along the side of the road, I think we could leap, onto the top.’ Kiki’s voice sounded faint and weary.
Looking back, I could see the two ruffians had broken free of the crowd, no time to lose. I stood back from the wall and with a flying leap stood on the top. Kiki was not so lucky. She scrabbled half way up as the men had almost reached her. The taller man tried to jump up and pull her back. With one paw she scratched his hand and with the other she pulled herself onto the wall beside me. In seconds I felt my speckled wings sprouting and I could see Kiki’s delicate gossamer wings almost complete.
‘Ok, ready? Un, deux, trois, take-off!’
Soon we had gained height. From the air we could see how much water there is in Copenhagen. Vistas full of canals, lakes and the sea itself. The two thieves looked smaller and smaller as we rose higher.
‘I can see the Tivoli Gardens. Look at the roller coaster and the Golden Tower,’ Kiki yowled above the wind.
I knew once we crossed Tivoli Park, I would be able to find our hotel. Sure enough, I had spotted it. We landed safely, a few metres from the doors. Sadly, our wings vanished. No sign of Erik, as we climbed the stairs.
‘He knows he behaved badly. No gentleman leaves ladies to face danger!’ Kiki had no sympathy for our grey friend.
Noah was standing at the bedroom door. ‘Ah here are the catkins. I thought they’d decided to stay in Copenhagen.’
‘No fear of that. I’m a true Parisienne,’ purred Kiki.
Sir Socks Le Chat 