Alba the Goblin Cat - 1. Fur Coat
Once upon a time, there was a goblin called Alba. He lived on the streets of a cold northern town. All year round the rain rained and the blusters blew, and it was all a little goblin could do to keep his paws dry. For if there were two things Alba hated, they were the wet and the cold.
If there was one thing Alba loved, it was food. Fish or fondue, chips or chapatis, marzipan or marshmallows, Alba the Goblin didn’t mind. He’d eat it all, and still go looking for afters. He could brave all the wet and cold in the world, as long as there was food at the end of it.
And so every night the rain rained and the blusters blew, and Alba the Goblin went out into the cold northern town to find his supper. And every night, Alba grew a little wetter and a little colder, and wished the weather would ease up just once in a while.
One night, Alba was splashing through the puddles, when he spotted a cat in a lamp-lit window. “Ah,” said Alba. “That must be the life. Warm and dry, and fed every day without having to get one paw wet!”
“What I need,” said Alba, “Is fur. And dainty pointed ears. I’m sure if I had those things, I could find a human to feed me.” But goblins had no fur, and their ears were big and round, and so Alba carried on splashing through the puddles to find his supper.
Later that night, Alba the Goblin was rootling through the bins, when he came across a curious thing. “What in the world could this be?” he said. “It looks like a bundle of fur.” It was black and white, and filthy all over.
“Hrm,” said Alba, “It has two arm holes and a head hole and buttons down the front - I think it must be a coat!” But it was far too big for a little goblin, no matter how he tried to bunch and bundle and hoist it onto his shoulders.
“Hrm,” said Alba. “I can’t wear this. I’ll have to take it to the goblin tailor.” And so he took the coat to the goblin tailor, who lived in a hole under a tree in the park.
The hole under the tree went down and round and down and round and down and round, so Alba was quite dizzy by the time he reached the bottom. The goblin tailor’s shop was an earthy cavern, stacked with bolts of cloth; red and yellow and paisley and pink, all neatly rolled and labelled.
“Mr Tailor,” said Alba, “What I need is fur, and dainty pointed ears, so I can find a human to feed me.” He held up the fur coat, black and white and filthy all over. “Can you make me a disguise, so I can eat meat in gravy out of a bowl in front of a roaring fire?”
The goblin tailor steepled his spindly fingers. “I can stitch you a coat,” he said, “so thick and so fine with fur as soft as can be. And I can make you a hood so dainty and light with ears as sharp as you please.”
The goblin tailor took the coat in his spindly spidery fingers. He cut it and trimmed it and pricked it and pinned it, and shaped it all anew. He draped Alba in the little fur coat, as soft and as thick as can be, and placed on his head the two little ears, as dainty and sharp as you please.
“Thank you!” cried Alba, “Oh thank you!” And he twirled and pranced and capered about, til he tripped and rolled tip over tail, black and white and black and white and still filthy all over. “With this fur and these ears, I’m sure the humans will feed me!”
Alba the Goblin left the hole under the tree in the park, round and up and round and up and round and up, and went to find the pond. There he bathed and soaped and brushed and scrubbed, until his coat was fresh and clean.
As the morning sun rose, Alba the Goblin leaned over his reflection. There, looking back at him, was a black and white cat with fur as thick as can be and ears as dainty and sharp as you please. Only his eyes were still the big yellow eyes of a goblin.
“At last!” cried Alba, and ran back to the streets. “Meow!” he cried. “Mew and meep!” And every door was opened, and every human said, “What a pretty little kitty-cat! You must be hungry, all alone in this cold northern town.” And they all fed Alba the Goblin Cat, until the sun went down.
