Critter Twister

"Mum, it's raining cats and dogs...and mices and budgies and fishes!" Brandon exclaimed as he pressed hi s face against the patio door windows and peered into the garden.
"Yes, dear, I know the weather's bad. It was howling all night," said his mother as she flew round the lounge like a whirlwind, scooping up toys and clearing dirty dishes from the dining room table. "It kept your father and I awake most of the night."
"But look, mum, it really is raining animals," said Brandon as he ran into the kitchen and dragged her out.
"Brandon, I don't have time for you dreaming about getting a dog again. I've already told you we can't afford it. Now, I'm late for work, you're late for school and I-"
Brandon pointed outside at the thick sky that hung over the village of Uppercroft. Hundreds and hundreds of animals of all sizes and colours were falling from the sky and landing in his garden. There were dogs bouncing on his trampoline; cats in his sandpit; fish flopping about in the vegetable patch and budgies landing in the trees. "See, I told you."
"Oh my," gasped his mother. "I don't believe it."
Brandon, flushed with excitement, unlocked the patio doors before his mother could object.
"Brandon, where are you going? You might get hurt out there?"
"I have to help the animals, mum. They might be hurt," said Brandon as he slid open the door.
"Well, at least put this on," his mum said and handed Brandon his blue raincoat. "You might get wet."
Brandon raised his eyebrows. "Mum, it's not actually raining!"
"I know but those animals are probably terrified. Who knows what they might be...excreting mid-air!"
Brandon pulled on the coat and dashed outside. He dashed to the vegetable patch first and scooped up all the fish and plopped them into his fish pond.
"There you go. Burt and Ernie will keep you company and show you round," he said staring down at his goldfish.
He then emptied his mother's bird feeder on the decking outside the patio and enticed the budgies from the branches. When all the yellow feathered birds were happily pecking at the nuts Brandon picked up the chicken wire frame his father had built to protect the strawberries and gently placed it over the birds.
Next were the cats. Most of them were, as his mother suspected, terrified and hissed and lashed out with flexed claws if Brandon got anywhere near them. Brandon detached lengths of string with bits of shiny paper tied to it his father used to frighten crows away from his seedlings and dangled them in front of the cats. Like moths to a flame, the cats were mesmerised by the dazzle of the multi-coloured foil. Their eyes and heads darted about following the line of the string as Brandon pulled it into the house, leading the cats like the Pied Piper of Hamlin into his lounge. Once inside he slid the patio door shut.
"Put the cats in the kitchen, mum," he said.
"I'm supposed to be at work," his mother yelled back through the glass.
Brandon heard her but wasn't really listening. He was having too much fun. It was far better than school.
At the far end of the garden was his trampoline.
The cacophony of barking and yapping coming from the netted enclosure was deafening. Retrievers, Jack Russells, Terriers, Dachshunds and Beagles all jockeyed for position and eagerly began wagging their tails, smacking each other in the face, when they spotted Brandon approaching.
Brandon reached for the zip but before it dawned on him what was going to happen the mass of dogs surged forward, bursting through the net and knocking Brandon off his feet. A torrent of fur, teeth and tails poured from the trampoline and into the garden. Dogs swarmed all around him. Licking his face and hands and sniffing his neck and feet.
"Okay, okay. I get it. You're happy," he said, through clenched teeth, worried that if he opened his mouth to speak a canine tongue would end up in there.
He pulled himself up and led the dogs one by one into the lounge. They were far easier to herd than the cats. They seemed to like Brandon which made them easier than the cats to herd, but Brandon wished they would like each other. Try as he did there was little he could do to stop fights from breaking out.
"According to the news," Brandon's mother said, "there was a tornado a mile down the road. It whipped up anything in its path."
"They've come from all over the county then," said Brandon as he prised two Terriers apart.
"What on earth are you going to do with them, Brandon?"
Brandon grabbed and pen and a pad of paper. I'm going to make a list of them and if they have owner tags I'll ring the owners and if not I'll post leaflets of them around the county. I'll make sure they all get home safely."
For two months Brandon worked tirelessly to reunite the animals with their owners. It was hard work, not least for his mother who had to constantly clean up after all the animals. A task she never failed to remind Brandon about. But soon enough he had found the owners of all but one animal; a collie with a white crown of fur on his black head. Brandon called him Prince.
"Nobody wants him, mum," Brandon said one dinner time. Prince was sat by his feet peering up at him.
"You'll have to phone the pound then, Brandon," his dad said without lifting his eyes from his newspaper. "That's the only place for him now. You've done your best."
Brandon stared down at Prince and stroked his head. "Mum?" he said pleadingly.
His mother looked across at him and took his hand in hers. "Michael, I think he's deserved this one. Don't you?"
With bright, hopeful eyes and a heart pounding with excitement and anticipation Brandon glanced between his mother and father.
His dad dropped his newspaper. "Oh go on then," he said.
Brandon leaped from the dinner table and danced round the room. He threw his arms round his parents and then round Prince who was so excited himself he started barking and chasing his tail.

"Time to get you a tag, Prince," said Brandon. "With my name on it."