Twenty Six – A Waste of a Cake

Abigail was very tired.  It took a very long time to paint a house when you only had small paws.  At least she could paint a bit faster than the two polars and the brush tied to the tiger’s tail helped a lot.  Finally, it was finished.  Her room looked beautiful, she didn’t care what Preston said, bright colours were cheerful.  She had repainted one of the walls too and the room was now a mixture of pink and silver.  The stars were still on the ceiling, she loved the stars.  Both of the polars rooms were painted blue and white.  Abigail thought that was a bit boring. Preston had finally decided on white walls and a blue ceiling and Patrick had blue walls and a white ceiling.  They were exactly the same colours as the polars fur and scarves.  Grigs was still disappointed that there wasn’t a paint colour called “stripe” but they’d painted the walls orange and then added some black stripes.  It made Abigail feel a bit dizzy and she swayed on her paws every time she looked at it but the tiger liked it.  The hall and kitchen were now a soft yellow and the other room downstairs a lovely green colour.  She sighed happily.  It was all beautiful.  

Trailing her paw against the wall she padded up the stairs.  In her other paw was a mug of hot chocolate with a cake balanced carefully on top.  Abigail always liked to have a late night snack to paw.  Sitting on the cushions she put down the mug and looked out of the window. The sky was clear and she could see bright stars and a huge yellow moon. 

Patrick looked around the door.  ‘Night Abigail,’ he saw the cake and sighed. 

‘Night,’ said Abigail brightly, ‘see you in the morning.  At breakfast.’

‘She’s always thinking about food,’ said Preston, appearing behind Patrick, ‘I’m surprised she’s only got the one cake.’

‘Oh are there more?’ asked Abigail innocently, ‘I thought I’d eaten them all.’  

Shaking his head Preston padded away.

‘Just don’t eat too many,’ said Patrick, ‘bears can’t live on cake.’

Abigail waved her mug of hot chocolate at him.  Taking a small bite from the cake just to make sure it was all right, she put it down carefully beside her in case she woke up later.  Curling up on the cushion she pulled her blue blanket up and closed her eyes.

Abigail was having a very noisy dream.  Someone was tapping on the window.  Putting her paws over her ears she turned over.  The tapping got louder and she pulled her blanket right up over her head. No, it was no good, the tapping wasn’t going away.  Opening her eyes she blinked.  That was funny, it didn’t actually seem to be a dream, something really was tapping on the window. Swallowing hard she peered around the cushions.  The tapping stopped.  Reminding herself that she was a very brave bear she unwound the blanket and climbed down onto the floor.  Padding over to the window she looked up.  The house was very quiet.  ‘He…llooo … hello is anyone there?’ There was an extra large tap and Abigail shot back behind the cushions.  ‘Patrick,’ she called, her voice wobbling ‘there’s someone outside my window!’

There was the sound of a door opening and rubbing his eyes, Patrick padded into the room.  ‘You’re upstairs Abigail,’ he yawned, ‘what are you talking about there’s no one’s outside your window.  You must be dreaming.’ There was another loud tap and he jumped. 

‘What’s going on?’ said Preston, his scarf was pinned neatly back but his fur was all ruffled.

‘There’s something outside,’ whispered Patrick, ‘but we don’t know what.’

‘Don’t know what what?’ said Grigs, appearing beside them. ‘What don’t we know what.  Or what..’ Sitting down he looked confused.  There was another loud tap and he shot behind the cushions. 

Preston sighed. ‘It’s probably just a branch or something,’ clicking on a small light he climbed up onto the window ledge, ‘I don’t know what all the fuss is…. ooohhhh eyes!!’ Jumping back onto the floor he shrank up against the wall.  ‘Somethings got really big eyes…’ 

‘Twit twooo.’

‘It’s an owl!’ squeaked Patrick, ‘a really big one.’

Abigail ran towards the window.  She loved owls, they were so fluffy and furry she’d seen them in pictures.  ‘An owl!’ Struggling with the catch on the window she heaved it open.

‘Abigail no!’ shouted Patrick, ‘owls aren’t friendly they eat mice and… maybe small polars!’

‘Oh dear,’ murmured Abigail, ‘I think it’s already come in.’

The owl sat on the window ledge, tilting it’s head on one side it looked at them with huge brown eyes.  It really was very big.  Abigail swallowed hard. ‘Shoo’ she said, waving at it.  Glancing over her shoulder she could see the tiger’s tail under the cushions.  ‘Grigs,’ she hissed, ‘you scared the fox away, come out here now.’

‘That was a fox,’ said Grigs, his tail quivering, ‘owls are different.  Very different. Definitely.’

Shaking its wings the owl stared at them in interest. Patrick threw himself under the blanket followed closely by Preston. 

‘Why did you open the window?’ Preston hissed ‘why would you let an owl into our house.’

‘I didn’t know,’ said Abigail hotly, ‘I didn’t know they ate polars!’ 

Preston let out a squeak.

‘Now let’s all calm down,’ whispered Patrick, ‘we just need to get it back out of the window again.’

‘And how are we going to do that?’ said Preston angrily, ‘I don’t speak owl.’

‘Just throw something at it,’ said Patrick, ‘Abigail you do it.’

Abigail picked up Preston. ‘Don’t throw me!’ She picked up Patrick.

‘Don’t throw me either! Throw your cake at it.’

‘But I’ve only had one bite,’ she said doubtfully. Weighing it up in her paw she looked at the owl.  It seemed a waste of a very good cake.  Chocolate and orange. One of her favourites.  The owl blinked and before she could change her mind Abigail raised her paw and threw the cake hard.  It hit the owl right on the beak! With a startled hoot it flapped right out of the window.  Running over and climbing up onto the ledge she clicked the window shut.

‘Thank goodness!’ said Preston, climbing out from under the blanket and shaking himself. ‘You can come out now Grigs it’s gone.’ He turned to Abigail and shook his head. ‘Please don’t let owls into the house again, it’s the middle of the night and we’re all meant to be asleep.’ Straightening his scarf he padded away, followed by Patrick and Grigs.

Abigail sat back down hard on the cushions. She was very annoyed. What a waste of a cake…

Author: Abigail

I am a resourceful small blonde bear, with curly soft fur. I have big plans, join me.