George was a good cat. If he climbed on windowsills he would carefully place his paws so he didn’t knock over the vases. If he climbed to the top of the bookcase, somehow he would not knock the books down. Even if paint was spilled on the floor he could avoid walking through it. Oh George was a clever cat. He could be seen in the window of the house. Not looking out, but looking into the room. A twinkle in his eye.

George had one bad habit. He chased the goldfish in the bowl. It would hide behind the plastic castle in the corner. Waiting for George, who could stare for hours, to get bored and go away.

One day it was cold and grey, the weather was stormy, and George decided to look out of the window and watch the trees waving in the wind. Suddenly a bolt of lightening struck one of the tallest trees. There was an almighty cracking noise, and a huge branch came down hitting the window and smashing it. George jumped out of the way just in time, his paws softly landing on the carpet. But then he saw the goldfish, it’s bowl had been knocked over. He sniffed it as it lay flapping on its side. But, instead of eating the fish he carefully gripped the tip of its tail in his mouth and ‘plop’, dropped it back into the half full bowl. Then he placed himself next to the bowl and watched the fish swim.