Stretching her paws up into the air Abigail yawned. Pushing her blanket aside she swung her paws over the edge of the bed and slid down onto the floor. Picking up her brush she smoothed down her fur. Her tummy made a rumbling sound, time for breakfast. Padding out of her room and down the stairs she pushed open the kitchen door. Patrick and Preston were already sitting at the table eating something out of a bowl. Abigail wrinkled her nose, it didn’t smell very nice. ‘What’s that?’
‘It’s like cereal,’ said Patrick in a muffled voice, chewing hard, ‘oats, no sugar, it’s very good for you. There’s a lot of it, it will last us ages.’ Looking down inside the packet he sighed. ‘Would you like some more Preston.’
‘Not really,’ said Preston unhappily, ‘it’s all stuck in my teeth.’
‘Right,’ said Abigail opening the fridge, ‘I think I’ll have a cake.’ She peered inside, then climbed up onto a shelf, ‘where’s the cake? And what are all these vegetables doing in here?’ She kicked a cabbage aside and it rolled out and onto the floor with a loud thud.
‘Abigail!’ shouted Preston, ‘be careful! We’re starting the new year with a resolution to be more healthy. And that means no cake and lots of vegetables.’
Abigail glared at him, she knew she should have kept the old year and not let the new one in. ‘Well I like cake and I don’t eat much of it.’
Patrick shook his head.
‘I’ll have some toast then and some strawberry jam.’ Climbing down from the fridge she opened a packet of bread.
Stirring the dry oats around his bowl Preston looked sideways at the bread. Licking his lips he cleared his throat. ‘Toast. With jam.’
‘Where?’ said Patrick.
‘I’d make you some but it’s probably not healthy,’ said Abigail, spreading her warm toast with lots of butter. Both of the polars noses twitched and Preston reached out a quivering paw towards it.
Abigail raised the toast high up over her head. ‘Can we add some cake to the shopping list?’
‘Yes,’ said Patrick quickly, pushing his bowl aside. ‘Can I have that bit?’ Preston already had his paws on the other side and they both pulled hard. The toast ripped in the middle and they fell backwards, half a piece of buttery toast landing on their snouts where it rocked too and fro.
‘I’ll put some more on shall I?’ said Abigail trying not to giggle, ‘and you’d better lick that butter off your fur before it sets.’
The day was cold and bright and sitting on the chair and swinging her paws too and fro Abigail looked out into the garden. She’d finished her toast and orange juice, what should she do today? What were her new year resolutions? She thought of her furrari, of course, she wanted to drive it more. Sliding off the chair she opened the back door and a draught of cold air blew the fur back from her face.
‘I’m going to drive my car Grigs,’ said Abigail, ‘you can come and watch me if you like.’
‘I can drive,’ said the tiger confidently, appearing from under the table.
Abigail looked at him doubtfully. ‘Are you sure?’
With a single bounce the tiger leapt over her head and out into the garden. He turned back to look at her. ‘Very very sure. Come on.’
Pulling the red furrari out of the shed, they dusted it down. Abigail patted it fondly. The tiger climbed onto the seat. ‘Umm…you’re facing the wrong way,’ said Abigail, ‘are you really sure you can drive? Let me go first.’
‘Definitely,’ said Grigs, turning around quickly, ‘I can definitely drive.’
‘Right,’ said Abigail reluctantly handing him the control, ‘well just go round the garden slowly and show me you really can.’
The furrari roared into life and the tiger wobbled. ‘Right, I’ll just… whoooaaaaaa!’
‘Grigs come back!’ shouted Abigail, ‘watch out, mind that tree and… that flower pot!!!’ There was a loud crash. The furrari flew into the air and landed on its side. ‘My car!’
‘What about me?’ Grigs lay on his back, his paws in the air.
‘Well are you all right?’ asked Abigail crossly.
The tiger looked at each of his paws, then shook his tail. ‘Yes.’
‘Well that flower pot and my car isn’t,’ said Abigail, pulling it upright again. It didn’t seem to be damaged. ‘You should have said you couldn’t really drive.’
‘I can,’ said the tiger with a sniff, edging behind the broken flower pot. ‘Just not cars like that.’
He looked very sad and Abigail sighed. ‘Why don’t you get on behind me and I’ll show you how it works.’ Climbing onto the seat she turned on the car and the tiger climbed up behind her. ‘Hold on tight!’ They shot forward over the grass. ‘Wheeeee….’ shouted Abigail, the fur blowing back from her face again. The car hit the edge of the path and they bounced into the air and landed hard on the other side. The edge of the garden appeared very quickly. Grigs covered his eyes with his paws. And fell off. ‘Why did you let go?’ shouted Abigail, ‘I told you to hold on. Ohhhhh…’ The tree was right in front of her and she braked hard. Too late.
Patrick and Preston were watching from the window. The kitchen was warm and cosy and they had a mug of hot chocolate each in front of them. ‘What did you do with that bag of oats?’ asked Preston, taking a big sip of his chocolate.
‘Back of the cupboard,’ said Patrick, ‘I don’t think polars eat oats.’
‘No,’ said Preston, looking at Abigail hanging upside down in the tree. ‘Do you think she’s all right?’ He waved at her. Abigail waved back.
‘Yes,’ said Patrick, ‘she’s just being Abigail. Do you want a biscuit?’
‘Lovely,’ said Preston, ‘let’s have two.’