There was a cat.
Nobody knew his name. Because nobody knew who his catparents were.
He gave himself a new name every day.
Yesterday he was Bill. The day before yesterday Jamie.
Today, he had a lot on his mind
and he couldn’t think of a name that would suit him. Well, then today maybe not.
There were more important things.
The nameless cat lived together with four other cats
under a roof on the roof from mrs. Smith.
In Wimazaland,
the richest country in the fairytaleworld.
Mrs. Smith was the richest, but also the most lonely person from Wimaza.
Her beautiful palace was too big for her alone.
So that’s where the nameless cat lived. Under a roof on the roof
of the palace.
A roof on a roof?
Yes.
A roof on a roof.
Mrs. Smith made that especially for the cats
so that they wouldn’t have to sleep in the rain.
Mrs. Smith was a beautiful young lady.
Red lipstick and clicking heels, always.
She loved her perfumes and little things so much, but she loved those five kitties on her roof even more.
And so, every morning and every evening,
there were, perfectly next to each other
-and exactly the same for everybody-
ten dishes in a line on the roof.
Five with sardines.
Five with mountain fresh water.
Today the cats had woken up in a nice morningsun -the sky was blue, the birds were singing, it could have been a perfect day-
and the cats were hurrying
themselves to the edge of the roof.
‘H-h-hey!’ shouted Larry, the youngest and the stutterer of the clan. ‘T-t-there is n-no b-b- breakfast f-for us!’
Did mrs. Smith forget them?
That couldn’t be.
She never forgot them. Even if she was sick,
she came to the roof, in a blanket and a cap on her head,
to put the meal there. Something fantastic, or something horrible must have happened.
They were hoping for the first,
but they feared it had something to do with the second option.
‘Let’s have a meeting,’ said Mina, the fattest and heaviest cat.
‘What’s a meeting?’ asked Poekie.
He didn’t understand, as always.
‘A meeting is a meeting,’ snapped Henkie, the grumblecat.
‘Yes, good idea. A meeting.
Let’s make a circle.’
The nameless cat wanted to come in action.
He had a strange feeling. Mrs. Smith was the most beautiful and sweetest humanlady in the world. Who would hurt her?
Mrs. Smith didn’t put our breakfast outside.
It’s a strange case.
Let’s go inside her house.
CAT
Maybe she overslept.
If she’s not there we’ll start a big neighourhood investigation.’
‘C-c-can we d-do t-that,’ Larry said.
‘I-it’s kind o-off r-rude t-to go i-in a-a ladieshouse, j-just l-like that.’
‘I’m a lady.
And if I would’ve been missing, I would appreciate it if you were searching for me.’
And Mina jumped through the window.
It didn’t take long before the other cats followed her.
They were searching and searching.
In every corner.
But there was no Mrs. Smith.
She didn’t oversleep.
She didn’t lock herself in the bathroom.
There was no burned cake in the oven.
It was like she had never lived there.
Like a dollhouse.
After one hour of searching and mewing her
name, the cats gave up. They gathered in front of the stairs in the big hall. ‘Let’s split up,’ the nameless cat said.
‘Mina is going to the Moso...’
‘Oh no, no way,’ Mina interrupted.
‘There are lots of rude men.’
‘Allright, Henkie will go there.
Mina, you’re going to the Vira.
Larry, Siri.
And I will go to the woods. On the border of Wimaza.’ ‘And I?’ Poekie asked. ‘You stay here, in case Mrs. Smith will return by herself.
If anybody finds her, mew as loud as you can.’
And there they went, all their own way.
The nameless cat was walking fast. Itwasalongwaytothe border of Wimazaland. Where the big forest was. The weather was changing on his way.
The sun vanished and dark clouds appeared in
the sky.
Where could mrs. Smith be?
He hoped she wasn’t scared.
Or sad.
Or unhappy.
And somewhere all alone. His paws were starting to hurt from walking.
In an instant he was standing in front of the forest,
and the branches and leaves formed a roof.
The trees seemed to breath.
Suddenly he heard something, soft whining. Behind a big tree trunk. ‘Mrs. Smith?’
‘Y-yes?’ a tiny voice answered.
The cat was so happy and walked a circle around the tree.
The cat squeezed his eyes. But Mrs. Smith wasn’t a humanlady anymore.
On the root of the tree sat a little, sad hedgehog. ‘What happened to you?’ The cat from the neighbours. It was Jim. Jim was living in the
gardenhouse of Mr. and Mrs. Jager.
Jim was sitting in front of the window,
day after day and looked at mrs. Smith.
The cat was in love with her.
But a humanlady and a cat. That wasn’t possible.
Jim had to become a humanman.
His owner Mr. Jager was a great wizzard.
A friendly man,
who would never use his talent to do anything bad. There was an appearance- changing drink.
With a small note.
Cat to wolf, one hundred drops.
Cat to human, ten million thousend five hundred ninety nine drops.
That wasn’t possible.
Jim kept on reading. Human to hedgehog, ninety drops.
Human to cat, eighty eight drops.
Yes!
At night he creeped from the roofwindow into her bedroom.

On the night table was a glass of water.
He dropped the magic drink in it.
That next morning Mrs. Smith woke up.
And she was frightened to death.
Next to her, a huge cat was sleeping.
Then... she saw herself in the mirror.
She was a hedgehog. She started to run. Out of her house. Out of her country. Into the woods.
She was there, on that root the whole time and she cried. ‘Do you think Jim can turn you back into a humanlady?’The nameless cat asked.
‘I don’t know,’ Mrs. Smith said.
They walked the long way back.
All the cats were waiting in front of the palace.
‘But, where is Jim?’
‘Here, on the ground. Close
to your paw.’
On the grit was sitting a small hedgehog.
Now I’m a hedgehog too. And we can be old and happy together.’
But I’m not in love with you. Also not as hedgehog to hedgehog Mrs. Smith said. I like it to be alone.
You can pass by for sardines. When I’m a humanlady again.
‘And you, cat without a name.
You saved me!
I’ll give you a name you always have to bear.
................................
That’s the name of my first and only love.