The Tobermory Cat by Debi Gliori

A long time ago, before you were born, the little Hebridean island of Mull was home to hundreds of cats.

    Cats of all colours and clans could be found roaming its highlands and lowlands, and it seemed that every village had its very own, special kind of cat.

    The people of Loch Ba were proud to tell visitors that there was
nothing
on earth as soft as the woolly cats of Loch Ba.

    The Staffa boatman swore he’d never heard a sweeter sound than the song of the cats of Staffa.

    The villagers of Salen boasted that there hadn‘t been a beastie born more sullen than the sulky cats of Salen, and the Fishnish sailors said that there wasn’t a creature alive, alive-o could hook a haddock like the sea-faring cats of Fishnish.

    The people of Loch Ba, Staffa, Salen and Fishnish were only too delighted to show visitors round their villages and sell them their cat postcards and cat t-shirts and cat soap and cat chocolates.
     
    Everyone agreed that cats were a very good thing to bring in the visitors.

    However, the little Hebridean fishing village of Tobermory on the island of Mull was
also
home to several cats.
    None of these was especially woolly or musical or sulky, and all of them, without exception,
hated
the sea.
     
    The Tobermory cats liked nothing better than catching mice, eating fish, watching clouds, and sleeping.
    The Tobermory cats were very
ordinary
cats, and, sadly, nobody wanted to visit Tobermory to see them.

    In fact, what with the famously woolly Ba-Ba Cats, the Singing Cat Choir of Staffa, the Snotty Cats of Salen and the Fishing Felines of Fishnish, hardly
anybody
bothered to visit Tobermory anymore.

    This was a great shame, because it meant nobody visited its fish cafe

    or its bookshop

    or its beautiful launderette

    or its amazing hardware store, where you could find everything you needed
plus
gold-plated reindeer, green electric guitars, purple fur-lined wellies and the odd ocarina.

    Without visitors, the people of Tobermory grew desperate. They had a meeting in the village hall.
     
    Something
had
to be done. ‘I know,’ said a very small person, ‘let’s teach
our
cats how to be special.’

    This was not a success. As anyone who has ever tried to train a cat will tell you, it is almost impossible to make a cat do anything it doesn’t want to do.
    And, if you remember, all that the Tobermory cats wanted to do was catch mice, eat fish, watch clouds and sleep.

    All except for one ginger tom. He was keen, he was quick, he was willing to learn.
    ‘Show me,’ he miaowed, ‘how to become a special cat.’
     
    But no amount of training could make him woolly, or musical, or sulky, and, if you remember, he
hated
the sea.

    The people of Tobermory gave up trying to train cats and went back to work.
     
    But the ginger tom didn’t give up.

    He tried to ask a visiting celebrity for advice.
    ‘Show me,’ he miaowed.
    ‘I want to be special like you.’
    But the celebrity was far too busy being a celebrity to speak to an ordinary cat.
     
    But the ginger tom still didn’t give up.

    read the sign on the fish van.
     
    ‘Show me,’ miaowed the cat.
    ‘I want to be special too.’.
    But no matter what the cat did, the fish refused to give up their secrets.

    But the ginger cat was quick. He was keen. He was willing to learn. Even if his teacher was somewhat unusual.
     
    ‘Show me,’ he miaowed, over the roar of the big yellow digger, ‘SHOW ME HOW TO BE SPECIAL.’
    The big yellow digger ignored the cat and got on with digging up Main Street.
     
    The cat miaowed louder and louder but nobody could hear a word he said.

    The ginger tom gritted his teeth. Being special was proving to be harder than he’d imagined.

    He decided to ask his friends for advice.
     
    ‘Show me,’ he miaowed. How do I become special cat?’
    His friends stared at him. The little dog laughed.
    The cow blinked. The dish nudged the spoon and said, ‘You are special already. Just be yourself.’

    The ginger tom