'Richard William Whittington, get out of here! Lay your filthy paws on my daughter again and...'
Young Dick never heard what the baker said next, as he tripped over a small tortoiseshell cat, cracking his head on the dusty road.
The cat’s mew was drowned out by laughter.
Dick pounced on Robert, the leader of the pack, but was quickly put down by the others.
‘Get out of here, Dick,’ growled Robert. ‘Don't ever lay your filthy paws on me again.’
Young Dick was done with these dusty streets and village kittens. He was going to journey to London, where the streets were paved with gold and a young man could make his fortune overnight.
The little tortoiseshell cat trotted along behind him, out into the great wide world.
As night fell, snowflakes began to drift onto Dick Whittington and his cat, and he decided to find an inn where he could spend the night.
Noticing his feline companion for the first time, he tried to shoo her away, but she ran inside as soon as the door opened and settled by the fire.
‘No animals,’ growled the innkeeper, but the cat pounced on a rat lurking by the coal scuttle.
Dick Whittington and his cat received fish for her hunting efforts and in the morning, they continued to London, where the streets were not paved with gold.
They wandered through the dark streets, with only the lamplighters for company. Shivering, Dick suddenly slipped, cracking his head on the muddy road.
Ears ringing, he looked up at his cat. Her bright green eyes shone like gold in the lamplight.
Looking at the murky, deserted streets around them, young Dick had an idea.
Cats’ eyes might just be the bright lights that would lead him on the road to fame and fortune.
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