Sara's grandfather, having heard of her issues with humans in her new school, writes a letter with some advice and a salutary tale of when the roles were reversed.

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Directly inspired and created as a reply to  Renee Carter Hall's story First Day, and the Thursday Prompt

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My dearest Sara,

I hope this letter finds you well. Thank you for your beautiful birthday card and your kind wishes. You are very artistic for one so young. The picture you drew looks just like me; so much so that your granny tells me I will no longer need a mirror. I have placed your card on my mantle piece, and I promise you it will remain there until I receive next year's card!

Do convey my love to your mommy and daddy for me, and remind them again I shall be visiting all of you next month. I have something special for my favourite grand-daughter, but I shall not tell you more than that for fear of ruining the surprise!

I expect it was quite a challenge when you moved to your new school last month. Your mommy and I spoke on the telephone and she said you have already made a new friend. I am so pleased to hear that. Friends are very important, especially when you're a young lady. Some friends you make at your age stay with you all your life, and you share so much with them.

The students there, I have heard, are mainly human, unlike your old school. This will give you a number of new challenges, Sara, and provide you with so many new experiences: some will be very good, like your new friend; some will possibly be a little less pleasing. If you are anything like the lady I know you to be, just like your mommy and your granny, you will meet every challenge with the same thoughtful courage and delicate kindness that they have always shown.

I was thinking back, after I spoke with your mommy, to my own childhood long ago, when I went to school. My school was for boys only. I think the grown-ups thought, back in the old days, that we boys would be too rough and mucky for the girls. Remember, we would play football out in the grass at break-time and come back very muddy. Girls don't really like that. I assume that's not changed!

Back when I was the same age as you are now (and yes, your grandpa was once a young kit, a long time ago) we had a knock on our classroom door. The rap-a-rap-rap was very distinctive, as was our teacher's response. She almost bounced from her padded chair as she dashed across our classroom to let in our headmaster, whose name was Mr. Kelly.

He was a weasel: very tall and thin, and very intimidating. Sara, you may not believe this, but when I was as school the teachers would slap anyone caught misbehaving. Your grandfather was no angel and many times had the indignity of six smacks from the leather strap on each of his paws. Needless to say, it's not one of the things I enjoyed at school! Mr. Kelly always carried his strap with him, so he was regarded with a lot of fear by my classmates.

He looked around the schoolroom; we all looked nervously back at him. He could make anyone go red. Miss Cheever, our teacher, flitted around him anxiously, glaring dangerously at anyone that dared to stir. She was a lioness. I thought she was very pretty and I told her once I would marry her when I grew up. Fortunately, your grandmother thought I should marry her instead! However, I think our teacher was just as terrified of the old weasel headmaster, his quick temper and his reputation ... but perhaps not as worried about his formidable leather strap as were the students.

"Children," he announced to us, pulling his lips back from his teeth in a smile that really looked more like a snarl, "you will have a new classmate today. He -- he is ..."

Mr. Kelly's pause caused every ear in the room to point forward. He's what?

"... to be treated with respect and IF I HEAR OF ANYONE MISBEHAVING I WILL TAKE THEM TO THE OFFICE!"

Well, my dear Sara, you can imagine how we reacted! I think Henry Nash wet himself with fright! Miss Cheever and Mr. Kelly went out into the corridor to discuss grown-up things, leaving the door open. I remember that I had a runny nose and no kerchief that day. Being a boy and quite a scamp, I wiped my nose on the sleeve of my woollen jumper, wiggled my whiskers, and turned my friend Derrick, sitting at the next desk.

"Whatcha think he'll be, Derrick?" I asked in an excited whisper. Derrick was a foal and he was my best friend.

Before he could reply, Miss Cheever's head appeared in the doorway to shush the increasingly noisy chatter. It was pointless because we immediately went back to being rowdy boys once she disappeared again! Unlike you and your schoolmates, we were a much rougher and very noisy lot!

Then I realised something important. I was the only student sitting at a desk with a spare chair. He would be sitting beside me! That was exciting. I hoped he would be another tabby like me, so we could perhaps start a gang, or go cycling to the park. Eventually, Miss Cheever came in and told us to be quiet, before introducing our new classmate. When he stepped in, the entire room went silent.

He was a human. Now, you wouldn't understand what a big thing that was back then, but our school was almost all furs. There were no human boys in my class at all. He looked worried and a little frightened as Miss Cheever put her paw on his shoulder and introduced him to everyone, just as I imagine your teacher introduced you to your new class last month.

"Boys," she said, "this is William Casey. William has just moved into town to live with his grandmother in Bright Hill."

I was delighted. I lived in Bright Hill too, where I lived with my auntie and uncle. We had so much in common already, William and I. When Miss Cheever led him down to sit in the desk beside me I had to move my books and things into a smaller space, but it was nice to be part of the centre of attention. William had that strange human smell, with a nice face that looked like pictures you see of elves in storybooks, full of freckles, with red hair on his head. I gave him some of my chocolate when the teacher wasn't looking.

Some of the other kids called him nasty names at lunch time. You see, Sara, some children can be very cruel and make fun of others, not because they don't like the other kids, but because they don't really know them. I didn't really know William, but he stuck to me like glue that day and we ate my bag of sweets while we sat on the playground wall, talking about where we lived. I liked him.

He was a little bit slow when he was reading, and had to use his finger to hold his place, but he told me that was because his dad travelled a lot and he missed a lot of school as a result. Miss Cheever asked me to help out with his reading exercises, which made me rather proud of myself.

You will, I am sure, be surprised by the nickname I gave him. Watchdog! It was a great nickname for a boy and he loved it. We played at being spies and soldiers in the playground, where I would be an important secrets courier, and William would be the watchdog and security officer, protecting our valuable secrets. Well, they were not really valuable -- all we had was a list of the names of everyone in our class and awful nicknames we made up for them. We were really silly, but it was wonderful fun. I'm certain you have just as much fun doing games like that!

I also expect that you think we both grew up into men and were friends for life, just as I mentioned at the start of my letter. Sadly, my dear Sara, it did not work out like that, and it is the reason I am telling you this story.

One afternoon, several weeks later, my auntie came to school to collect and bring me home. William's grandmother had not yet arrived, so he was waiting at the gate with me. When my auntie saw William, a funny look crossed her face and her nose wrinkled. Her tail started to flick, so I knew something was wrong. I politely introduced William to her and she said nothing at all. It was most peculiar. My auntie was rarely rude like that, so I became very worried.

As soon as we reached home, she stood me up in front of her and asked me about my new friend. I told her all about William.

"Joseph," she said, looking as serious as only grown-ups can be, "William is a human. You should not be playing with him at all. He's ... dirty." I tried to explain that all humans were like that, but she ordered me to stay away from him, and that was that.

Sara, what I did next was so wrong I want you to pay very close attention to what I tell you now. The very next day, back at school, William came up to be before class and, as if we were playing our game, said "Watchdog ready for mission, sir!" and saluted like a soldier. I gave a flick of my tail and wrinkled my nose in a small copy of what my auntie had done.

"William, we can't play anymore. You're human and you're dirty."

His face went all pale and he looked awful. Thinking I was doing exactly the right thing, because I was doing what my auntie had told me to do, I finished by telling him "And don't talk to me anymore. Tabbies don't talk to humans."

He started to cry and ran off towards the gym hall. I didn't see him for an age. Three weeks later, William left our school, probably because his father brought him somewhere else. I never ever saw, or heard from, William the Watchdog again.

I am telling this story to you for three reasons, my sweet little one.

Firstly, to show you that, occasionally, grown-ups can be very wrong, and believe things that are they know are wrong because it makes them feel superior about others. This is called 'prejudice', and it causes a lot of trouble all over the world. It usually happens when one group of people think another group is not as good as the first because they are different.

Secondly, because you should think about this little story if you ever begin to think you are better than anyone else; be they tabby, human, wolf, horse, or whatever. People are all the same inside -- no matter what shape their face, what length their whiskers, or the colours in their fur.

Lastly, and most importantly, think about someone who treats another like I treated William. They say things without thinking and cause so much hurt for no reason. William might never even think about the few weeks that we were friends -- I will never know. My beautiful granddaughter, I will always feel shame for how I hurt William. Even now, sixty years later, I still feel so sad when I think about what I said and how I lost my friend.

Make certain you never hurt anyone like that, Sara.

And remember to think this about those who might hurt you, because someday they will be sad and hurt when they are grown up like me, when they think of how they called you names, or teased you with rubber mice ...

I shall finish my letter, as your granny is calling me for my tea. She and I would love to know if you might like to visit us in Ireland during the summer holidays. Go ask your mommy and daddy and if they agree, they can telephone us to arrange it. How's that for a nice idea? See you next month!

With kisses and cuddles,
Your loving grandpa.