A STORY TO START DECEMBER: "IVAN'S PUSSY CAT" by Penny Dolan

 

It is the start of December, and a Christmas season unlike anything known before. 

Usually I'd be getting ready to share winter stories and songs with children, parents and carers, all huddling cosily around the mat at my local library. 

Instead, at home, we've been videoing a snowy story, ready for the staff to post up on the Library's Facebook page sometime soon. 

The story was an old favourite, remembered from years back when, and so I decided to share my written version here on ABBA today too.

 

 

 IVAN'S PUSSY CAT.

A long time ago, in a cold faraway land, a man called Ivan was walking through the snow. On and on he went but he did not walk alone. A white bear padded along by Ivan's side. He had rescued her when she was a cub and now she followed him wherever he went.

As Ivan walked, he saw steep cliffs and sharp mountain peaks around him. The night was coming and the snow was growing thicker so Ivan knew he must find somewhere to shelter. 

Then, not far off, he saw a farm-house, with smoke curling out of the chimney.  A man came and unbolted the door when Ivan knocked. Warm air came out from inside that home, filled with the scents of delicious food.

 "Please let me stay for the night, sir," Ivan asked. "I will be not trouble."

Now it was the custom in those days for travellers to lodge in people's house, so the man looked hard at Ivan and then he did welcome him inside. Ivan left his bear curled up contentedly in the snow.

The house was very full. There was a mother too, and aunts and uncles and grandmothers and grandfathers and plenty of children. The tables were crowded with pies and cakes and apples and nuts and all sorts of good things to eat and drink, and the walls were decorated with green branches and ribbons and small gifts. 

"Oh, I forgot," Ivan thought happily. "Tomorrow is the day of the winter festival." But then he noticed that not one face was smiling. Everyone looked sad, or scared, or both at the same time. "Tell me. What is wrong?" Ivan begged and so they did.

They told Ivan that the year before, when everyone was asleep and the room ready for the festival - just as it was at that moment -  a horde of wicked, pointy-faced trolls came down from the mountain tops. They burst into the room and raced around, snatching up this and that and jumping on to the tables. Some food they gobbled up, some they threw around and the rest they trampled with their hard, nasty feet. They screeched and cackled as they pulled down all the decorations and by the time the trolls left, everything good had been broken or spoilt. 

"And they will be coming again," the children cried. "We heard them calling from the mountains."

Ivan nodded wisely."Listen, if you let me bring my pet bear in to sleep by the fire, all will be well. She is gentle and will not harm any of you." Everyone agreed, so Ivan went outside and whispered to his bear. In she came, quietly, and curled herself up on the rug by the warm fire just as if she was a pussy cat. 

"Now get to bed," said Ivan "and bolt your doors. Do not worry." Ivan hid himself safely in a cupboard to keep watch.

Before long, those bad trolls came crrep crreping down from the mountains and up to the house and in through the door. They sniffed with their pointy noses and wriggled their pointy fingers and giggled as they looked all around, ready to make mischief and worse. Suddenly they saw the shape of Ivan's bear, asleep by the glowing fire.

"It's a great big pussy cat," they cried. "Let's tease her! Let's poke her! Let's pull her fur." And so they  went close to the sleeping bear, and they did poke and pull her. 

The bear grunted a bit and grumbled a bit and growled and then she opened her  eyes. When she saw all the nasty trolls, she lifted her great head and roared as loudly as she could. Then she rose up and set to, wopping the trolls with one paw and bopping them with the other, this way and that.  As soon as they could, the terrified trolls screeched and scrambled their way out of the house and away into the mountains.

 What joy! What happiness! When the people saw that the trolls had gone, they were so delighted. They thanked Ivan over and over - and his bear, of course - and began their winter feast then and there and did not stop for days.

 However, Ivan soon knew it was time to set off again, so he started to say goodbye. 

"But, what willwe do if the trolls come next year, Ivan, when you aren't here?" the children asked. 

Ivan chuckled. "Tell them that while Ivan's pussy cat was here, she had two kittens and she left them behind by the fire. Now those kits have grown and grown, and are twice as big and strong and cross as their mother." The children laughed, but they remembered that story.

And that is exactly what happened. The next year, when troll voices called down from the mountains, the children shouted back and told them there were now two big white pussy cats by the fire. 

"Then we are never ever coming again!" screeched the trolls, and off they ran, far away and over the mountains and they never ever did come back.

Each winter, ever since, that house has always had the happiest of celebrations, and each year, they always tell the story of their friend Ivan and his wonderful white pussy cat.

 Good wishes to you all.

 Penny Dolan

@pennydolan1