The Moggie Thit Meowed Too Much by Emma Grae sampler

emma grae is an author and journalist from
Glasgow. She is a passionate advocate of
the Scots language and breaking the stigma
around mental illness. She has published
fiction and poetry in the UK and Ireland
since 2014 in journals including The Honest
Ulsterman, From Glasgow to Saturn and
The Open Mouse. Her debut novel, Be Guid
tae yer Mammy, published by Unbound in
August 2021, was shortlisted for the Saltire
Scottish Fiction Book of the Year Award
2022 and won the Scots Book of the Year
at the Scots Language Awards 2022. Her
second novel, The Tongue She Speaks, was
published by Luath Press in October 2022.
As a journalist, she writes under her birth
surname, Guinness, and has bylines around
the world. Her first children’s book, The
Hoolet Thit Couldnae Fly, was published in
2023 and shortlisted for Scots Bairns Book
of the Year 2024. The Moggie Thit Meowed
Too Much is her second children’s book.

By the same author
Be Guid tae yer Mammy, Unbound, 2021
The Tongue She Speaks, Luath Press, 2022
The Hoolet Thit Couldnae Fly, Luath Press, 2023

The Moggie Thit
Meowed Too Much
EMMA GRAE

First published 2025
isbn: 978-1-80425-203-1
The author’s right to be identified as author of this book
under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988
has been asserted.
Printed and bound by
Clays Ltd., Bungay
Typeset in 13 point Sabon by
Main Point Books, Edinburgh
© Emma Grae 2025

Tae Morgaine,
Wan o the maist alive folk ah’ve ever met
And the furthest fing fae a feartie.

Contents
1 Feartie 11
2 Hauntit 24
3 The Bawkie 38
4 The Turret 54
5 In the Gloamin 68
6 A Bad Dream 92
7 Brek the Spell 109
8 Fear o the Dairk 114
9 The Castle 124
10 Brave 136
7

Scots Glossary 151
Note for Readers 153
Food for Thought 157
Acknowledgements 159

1
Feartie
It’s rainin the day we move tae Granny’s
auld hoose. A rainbow jumps fae wan
moontain tae anither ootside the windae.
Mammy says thit means we’ve gat hur
blessin.
Licht shines through Granny’s ornaments,
creatin rainbows oan the flair.
Ah miss ma auld hoose awready. Ah’ve ne’er
moved afore.
‘Skye, that’s yer lucky wee moggie,’ Mammy
says, gesturin tae ma new pal.
11

The Moggie Thit Meowed Too Much
Lottie’s ma granny’s auld moggie. Daddy
talked Mammy intae keepin hur. He said
Granny would haunt us if we sent Lottie tae
the moggie and dug hame.
‘Meow,’ she says, as if tae join in the conversation.
She meows too much.
Hur eyes luik like twa moons. Lottie lowers
hur heid, movin it fae side tae side. She’s hauf
hidin ahind a wooden chair in the kitchen.
‘Meow.’
Granny’s kitchen’s made o broon wood, but
Mammy says she wants a grey wan. Mammy
likes mair modern fings. Ah’ll miss aw the colours
Granny’s gat in here. There’s a reid ceramic cockerel
and a selection o teapots and china hooses.
12

Feartie
Ah’m huvin ma lunch. A sausage roll and a
snawbaw, because they remind me o Granny.
Ma big brother Steven’s showin aff hoo many
boaxes he kin carry in fae the removal van.
‘Meow!’
Wee Lottie must be sae confused. She spent
the best part o a month in a cattery efter
Granny went tae the Big Man in the sky. A
cattery is where moggies go fur their holidays.
‘Meow!’
Lottie couldnae come tae wur auld hoose. The
man who ains it said nae pets. We wur daein a
fing callt rentin. That
meant it wasnae oor
hoose fur life, but
Granny’s is.
Ah luik at the
photies oan the
table. It’s weird tae
fink o Granny in a
boax in the groond.
13

The Moggie Thit Meowed Too Much
She’s still sae alive in ma heid. Granny left a
loat o photies ahind.
Wee lads and lassies
didnae luik any
different in the aulden
days, but their claithes
did. They hud bigger
collars than we dae at
the school and much
smairter jaickets.
There wur ainlie
four o us at Granny’s funeral. Me, Mammy,
Daddy and Steven. Granny wis a lady,
Mammy said, and didnae want any gawkers.
We’d a loat tae sort afore we moved.
Everywan says it’s fur the best. Granny
didnae live faur fae wur auld hoose, sae
there wis nae need tae change schools. We’ve
plenty o space noo.
The hoose creaks. Wa’er soonds like a clock
in the wa’s. Every drip doon the pipes a tick.
14

Feartie
Tick tock.
Ma lip quivers. Ma school bully lives roond
the road fae Granny’s hoose. Ah pit ma hood
up the day ah saw hur. She’s in the ither class,
so ah kin avoid hur maist o the time.
Ah stairt tae cough. Ah take a big drink o
dilutin juice – a wee bit o the pastry fae the
sausage roll must huv irritated ma throat. It’s
ma tonsils. They’re comin oot next week.
Ah cannae decide whit ah’m mair feart o –
the bully roond the road or a doactor comin
at ma throat wi a knife. But fur some reason,
it’s the dairk that gies me the fear maist o aw.
‘Meow!’
If nought else, Lottie’s a distraction.
Steven luiks like he’s gonnae faw backwards
as he carries three big boaxes through the
utility room. It’s richt next tae the kitchen.
Ah’m sae gled we dinnae need bunk beds
15

The Moggie Thit Meowed Too Much
anymair! We wur gettin too auld fur it, but we
know fine well money doesnae grow oan trees.
Daddy walks in next wi six boaxes, pittin
Steven tae shame. We make eye contact.
16

Feartie
‘Ye keepin a wee eye oan Lottie wi the door
open?’ Daddy says.
‘Aye,’ ah say.
Ah’m no awfae strang, but ah’m still bein
useful even as ah eat ma lunch.
Mammy’s busy guttin the hoose. Ma nostrils
burn fae the smell o bleach floatin doon like a
cartoon clood fae up the stair.
Lottie meows. Ah take anither bite o ma
sausage roll. Ah wish wee Lottie would shut
up. It’s no like wur complete strangers tae
hur.
Mibbie she’s realised Granny’s gane and
she’s greetin. Death’s never easy tae accept.
It doesnae matter whether yer a moggie, lad,
lassie or a grawn up. Aw that life, jist gane.
Aw thit’s left, photies.
Granny’s engagement ring is somewhere in
this hoose an aw. It’s been loast fur years, but
Mammy’s convinced wur gonnae find it.
17

The Moggie Thit Meowed Too Much
The ring’s gat a ruby in the middle and wee
white diamonds at either side. Granny and
Granda’s initials are scrived oan the band, or
sae ah’ve been telt.
Mammy said Granny would send me a sign
fae the ither side o life. It’s gat me oan edge
because ah’m no keen oan ghaists. Ah fink
that’s why ah’m sae feart o the dairk.
Ah wouldnae mind findin hur ring as a sign
though.
‘Meow!’
Ah try tae get Lottie interested in wan o hur
toys. It’s a wooden stick wi a wee broon
teddy burd at the end. Hur eyes dart fae side
tae side as ah shoogle it. She crouches doon,
but she’s no quite game enough tae play.
18

Feartie
‘Richt ye twa, we’re aff tae the hairdware
shoap. Behave yersels,’ Daddy says.
Mammy’s at his back. She says they’ve their
wurk cut oot fur them turnin this hoose intae
a hame.
‘Meow.’
Steven nods as he brings in his fitbaw and
fishin rods.
Daddy shuts the front door. Granny’s wind
chimes ring fae the gairden. Hur hoose is
filled wi aw sorts, inside and oot. Mammy
calls it hoardin.
Ah walk ower tae the kitchen windae scoffin
the last bites o ma sausage roll. Granny’s gat
wee pixies and trolls fae hur holidays tae
Norway oan the shelf.
‘Meow!’
Ah shake ma heid. Ah wish the trolls would
come tae life and shut Lottie up.
19

The Moggie Thit Meowed Too Much
Granny would kill me fur the thocht. That
the trolls should come and take hur wee
moggie away.
Ah turn tae gie Lottie a clap tae make up fur
it, but she’s gane. Ah luik roond the kitchen.
A broon paper bag rushes past ma feet and
ah scream.
Ah fink it wis a bag. It could o been anyfin. Ah
narra ma eyes as ma hert thuds like a drum.
The bag does a lap o the kitchen like it’s
possessed. Ah catch a flash o Lottie’s black
tail and legs.
20

Feartie
She’s ainlie gane and gat it stuck roond hur
neck.
‘LOTTIE!’ ah say.
The bag stairts tae woosh roond in a circle.
Lottie’s gaun sae faist she makes the waltzers
at the carnival luik like a bairn’s ride.
‘Lottie,’ ah say, tryin again tae calm hur
doon.
Ah reach oot tae grab the whizzin bag, but it’s
nae use. She’s gaun roond and roond in circles.
Granny used tae get annoyed whenever
Mammy tried tae hoover hur hoose. Everyfin
hud tae be jist sae and perfectly calm. Ah kin
imagine hur ghaist gaun mental at the sicht o
Lottie spinnin roond richt noo.
She does anither lap o the kitchen. Ah’m
rooted tae the spoat in fear. Whit if Lottie hus
a hert attack and dies?
Lottie staps in the corner. Even moggies get
oot o breath.
21

The Moggie Thit Meowed Too Much
‘MEOW!!! Meowwwwwwwwww.’
The bag flops doon next tae hur heid, almaist
stranglin hur wi its handle, but no quite.
Lottie coories and luiks at me wi hur moon
eyes as if tae say ‘help’. Ah struggle tae catch
a breath because ah’m sae feart.
‘It’s okay, Lottie,’ ah say, croochin doon.
Ma hauns are shakin. Ah slowly lift the wee
broon handle up and ower hur heid.
Lottie pauses fur aw o hauf a second afore
boltin oot the kitchen through the utility
room and intae the hall. Ah jolt when she
passes ma legs in a blur o black fur.
Ah chase hur across the flair. It’s tiled. Ma
hert’s beatin as much as it did when ah
accidentally ate anither lassie’s piece at the
school. She’d the same lunchboax as me and
ah gat mixed up. Ah should o realised as it
hud chocolate spread Mammy wouldnae buy.
That’s hoo the trouble wi the bully stairted.
22

Feartie
Rhiannon said ah stole hur lunch oan
purpose and telt everywan who’d listen ah’m
a rotter. Ainlie hur bestie listened though.
Ah almaist deck it oan the tiles chasin Lottie,
bringin masel back intae the moment. Ah
cannae let hur oot ma sicht. Ah’m no riskin
gettin hauntit by ma granny if Lottie gets
intae mair trouble, ah fink, rushin up the stair
and efter hur.
‘Meow!’
She meows too much.
23

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