Running Wild, page 2
Willy raised his hind leg and stomped. I hung on. He flopped down on his right side and lifted the leg I was all balled up on. I clutched it tighter. He gave it a shake. When I didn’t come off, he shook harder.
Next thing I knew, I was upside-down against the neighbor’s trash can. But instead of hopping back to my feet and bouncing sideways to attack again, I just lay there. Willy hurried over. He stared at me a moment. When I still didn’t move, he leaned down and sniffed. That huge nose felt like the time I got tangled up with the Mama’s vacuum cleaner.
“Chuck? Chuck, are you all right? I didn’t mean to hurt you. I thought we were just playing. Chuck? Chuck?”
I peeked at him out of one eye.
“Got ya.”
Willy’s big brown eyes tightened to tiny slits in his huge black face. His snort ruffled my fur.
“That wasn’t nice. You scared me. Come on and get . . .”
He stopped what he was saying. I couldn’t help but notice the sly twinkle in his tight eyes.
“Come on,” he repeated. “Get up . . . Chuck.”
I flipped over and hopped to my feet. “Don’t start that Upchuck stuff with me,” I warned. “You know how bad that ticks me off.”
He gave a little snort. Well, it was a little snort for Willy. For me, the wind that came was almost enough to roll me back against the trash can. He turned and trotted off.
“I’m hungry, Chuck. Come on.”
• • •
When we got to Luigi’s Italian Restaurant, Willy used his nose to knock on the screen door. A smiling face, with black hair and a black mustache, peeked around the corner from the pantry.
“There’s me two boys,” Luigi greeted. “How’s my big kitty and my little puppy?” His mustache curled up on both ends. Before opening the screen, he wiped his hands on his white apron. (Well, it might have been white, once. Now it was all covered with speckles of tomato sauce.) Luigi knelt down and scratched Willy behind the ears. Willy always got such a goofy look on his face when Luigi did that. He wiggled and waggled and almost twisted himself in half. Once he’d petted Willy, Luigi reached out and gave me a quick rub. For a second he scratched at that good place on my back—right where it joins my tail.
“Luigi not see you boys for a whole week. What’s wrong? You mad at Luigi? You no more like his good spaghetti and meatballs?”
Willy jumped up and put his big paws on Luigi’s side. Luigi was short and stout. Still, Willy almost knocked him over. Luigi caught himself and scratched the big mutt’s ears some more. I rubbed against Luigi’s leg.
“Your spaghetti and meatballs are the best in the whole wide world,” I purred. “We didn’t want to make you mad by coming too often. But we love your spaghetti and meatballs.”
Luigi disappeared inside. In a moment he came back with a huge bowl for Willy and a smaller or regular size bowl for me. He plopped them down in front of us, held his tummy, and laughed when we practically climbed into the bowls to get at the fantastic meal.
I loved Luigi’s laugh. It was almost as nice and heartwarming as his spaghetti and meatballs.
• • •
The trouble with eating at Luigi’s was that sometimes it was hard to make it back home.
CHAPTER 4
Willy and I didn’t make it home.
“I think I’m gonna blow up.” Willy lay on his back in the tall grass. It was the only place on the whole block behind my house where there was still grass. Every place else had been cleared off for new houses. Willy squirmed and wiggled, scratching his back on the ground. “I think I’m gonna blow up,” he repeated.
I curled into a ball beside him. Not near enough so that he’d smush me with all his rolling and scratching, but close. I clutched my tummy with my paws.
“Think I’m gonna blow up, too.” I licked a little of the leftover spaghetti sauce off my whiskers. In the distance I heard sort of a roaring, rumbling sound. I guess Willy heard it, too. Frowning, Willy and I both listened.
The roaring came closer.
We watched as this huge truck came around the corner. It had a big box on the back. It stopped in front of one of the houses. Three men got out. They stretched. They scratched, just like the boys did who were playing with the ball. Then they just stood around.
It wasn’t long before a car drove up. A man, a woman, and a little girl got out. The man went to talk with the three guys beside the big truck. The woman and the little girl opened the front door of the house. The three men started carrying things from the big box on the back of their truck. They brought cardboard boxes, three couches, tables, chairs, lamps, and all sorts of stuff.
The man and woman opened the back of their car and began carrying things into the house, too. The little girl reached in the back seat. I felt my eyes get big and round. They almost popped out of my head when I saw her carry this box into the garage. It was made of blue plastic and had a wire front.
It was the same box my friend Tom left in! Yes! Just like the box Tom’s people put him in. Was it. . .
No, it couldn’t be.
But maybe . . .
My eyes got even bigger. There was something furry and fuzzy inside. It moved. It wiggled. It was something alive. But I couldn’t make out what it was. As soon as the little girl put it down, she came back and got another box.
For an instant I was so excited that I could hardly stand it. But . . . these people were not Tom’s people.
Willy stretched and shook. Standing as close as I was and as big as he was, his shake felt like an earthquake beneath my feet.
“I got to get home.” He smiled down at me. “It’s about time for my people to come in from work. Let’s go. We can play tag or something until they get there.”
I looked at my friend. I looked back at the little girl and the plastic boxes with the wire fronts.
For an instant I thought about telling Willy that I couldn’t come to his house because I needed to get home, too. If I stayed here and watched . . . if there were cats in the blue plastic boxes with the wire fronts and if they were nice cats . . . well, I really wanted to stay.
But . . . Willy was my best friend. A cat just doesn’t lie to his best friend.
• • •
The next afternoon I crouched beside Willy’s house. He left the bush near the back fence and strolled to the pecan tree. Head high and nose wiggling to sniff the air, he circled it. With him on the far side of the tree, now was my chance. I darted from my hiding place beside his house and shot behind the air-conditioner thing.
Willy always checked the bush at the back fence, the pecan tree, his house, and then the air conditioner. Always the same pattern. Always in the same order.
If I was quick and timed it just right, I could make my next break when he went around the opposite side of his doghouse. From there he couldn’t see me shoot across the yard and scamper up the tree. He’d follow the path again, and if I stayed really still . . . well, he’d already checked the pecan tree, so he wouldn’t even think I was back there. The dumb mutt would do it over and over. He’d keep circling and circling and . . .
Suddenly a familiar smell tweaked my keen nose. It made my whole body freeze. I didn’t move so much as a muscle.
Not far from where I hid, a pipe ran from the air-conditioner thing and into the people house. It was wrapped with some kind of black, rubber stuff, and there was a gap or crack in the brick where it went into the house. My eyes tightened. My tail wanted to twitch, but I kept it still. I didn’t even wiggle my whiskers. It was the smell of . . .
Mice!
A sound came. It was so soft and faint that only the sharpest ears could pick it up. Scratching—tiny claws scraping on brick. I squinted at the hole around the black pipe. Held my breath. Every muscle tensed, ready to pounce.
“Watch it,” a little squeak warned. “I haven’t seen that stupid cat today, but the big dog might be out there.”
A single whisker appeared, then disappeared.
My body took over. It wiggled me into a crouch. Almost flat against the ground, every muscle was tight as a steel spring. The instant that mouse slipped from the hole, he was mine! Whiskers appeared once more, followed by a tiny, wiggly black nose. It twitched a couple of times, then drew back into the safety of the hole. I didn’t blink.
“All clear,” the little squeak said. “I’ll be back in just a second.”
Sure enough, here he came. He shot from the hole. He only got about three steps toward Willy’s food bowl when my steel-spring muscles began to uncoil. My aim was perfect. My pounce—stealthy and quick. There was no way he could escape my . . .
Something hit me!
My eyes flashed. What was it? I’d been attacked from behind. A hard nudge or push, right against my bottom. And . . . it came at the exact same second that I pounced.
Suddenly my well-aimed and next-to-perfect pounce sent me tumbling out of control. My tail spun round and round. My paws and claws grabbed for something—anything. There was nothing but air.
Spinning and flopping in an out-of-control somersault, I saw the blue sky. I saw the ground and the mouse. I saw the blue sky again. I saw the ground and the mouse. This time he looked up at me. For just an instant I noticed the terrified expression on his face. I saw the blue sky a third time. I saw the ground and no mouse. But I did catch a glimpse of the mouse’s tail as it disappeared back inside the hole. Then . . .
I saw stars.
That’s because I landed smack-dab on my head. I hit the hard ground, bounced a couple of times, and ended up against the side of the house with my feet and tail sticking straight up in the air.
Startled, stunned, and a little dizzy, all I could do was lie there. The way I landed with my butt up against the wall, my tail drooped down between my hind legs. The tip of it rested on my nose. I could see blue sky on either side.
All at once the sky grew dark.
This huge, black head blocked the light. Brown eyebrows scrunched down to a worried frown. An enormous mouth opened. All I could see were white teeth surrounding a gigantic bottomless cavern. It moved closer.
“Willy!” I managed to hiss. (It was really hard to hiss, since I was upside-down with my neck scrunched so my chin was against my chest.) “Willy, if you pick me up in your mouth and try to drop me in your water bowl, so help me . . . I’ll claw you to shreds!”
The enormous cavern made a clunk sound when it snapped shut. Soft, worried brown eyes studied me for a moment. They blinked.
“I didn’t mean to tag you so hard.” Willy sighed.
Then . . .
Willy got tickled.
“You should have seen that poor mouse,” he said with a chuckle. “I never saw such a terrified look in my life. And you . . . flipping head over heels, sailing through the air and . . . and . . .”
I struggled to my feet and glared at him. Willy tried to straighten up. He clamped his lips shut. His nose pinched tight.
Only, he couldn’t hold it. When he let his laugh out, it came in the way of a snort through his enormous nose. The spray made me feel like I’d been hit with a water hose. It was disgusting.
It made my whiskers twitch and my fur ripple.
Willy laughed and rolled and flopped around.
“It’s not that funny!” I hissed.
Willy tried to look serious, but I could tell he was about to bust again. “Don’t get yourself all fuzzed . . . up, Chuck.”
“That’s it!” Without even looking back, I trotted to the big double-gate and squeezed through the crack.
I really wasn’t as mad as I pretended. Still, Willy was overdoing it. It might have been funny—but not that funny.
Besides, it was time to check in at home—see what was going on there.
CHAPTER 5
The Mama and Daddy were on a conference call when I got home.
That’s what Willy had told me it was, one time when I’d asked him about it. For a long time I’d thought the Mama was just talking to herself when she put the white thing, with the long cord, against the side of her head. A few days later the Mama was talking to herself in the kitchen and the Daddy was talking to himself in the bedroom. I finally realized they were talking to each other. That was really strange. They lived in the same house, yet they went to different rooms and stuck the white things against their heads so they could talk. Why not just sit down on the couch to visit, like they usually did?
When I asked Willy about it, he explained that they really weren’t talking to each other. The white thing with the long cord was called a telephone and some other person was speaking with them. Only I couldn’t hear the other people. When more than two people got on the phone, it was called a conference call.
Now, Willy was a dog. It’s common knowledge that dogs are simply not the brightest animals—especially compared to us cats.
For a dumb dog Willy sure knew a bunch of stuff. When my Katie first went off to college, she didn’t come home for a while. I asked Willy if college was mean and if it was holding her hostage and wouldn’t let her come to see us. Willy told me that college was just a place, and my Katie would come home to visit. She did. Willy knew mouth math—that’s like two times two is four, and six times six is thirty-six, and eight times nine is seventy-two. Willy learned that and geometry because his boy used to lie on the bed and repeat his mouth math over and over and over again. He didn’t think Willy was listening, but he was.
Willy knew how to read the “talkie-light” on the corner of the busy street. He knew that when it was red and the squiggly things that looked like “D-O-N-’-T W-A-L-K” were there, it said “Stop, Willy.” When it was yellow, it told the cars to “Go faster.” And when it was green with the squiggles “W-A-L-K,” it said, “Come on, Willy. Let’s go.”
Dumb mutt?
Maybe dogs weren’t too smart. Maybe Willy really wasn’t a dog. When I first met him, I thought he was some strange animal called a Rotten Willy. Maybe he really wasn’t a dog at all. Maybe he . . .
“Yes, Katie. We love you, too.” The Mama smiled at the telephone. “Of course we’ll be there for graduation.”
When I heard the name “Katie,” my pointed ears shot straight up. Every thought fluttered from my head, as fast as a hummingbird flutters from a flower. My Katie was the other people on the phone. They were talking to my girl.
I raced to the Mama and rubbed against her as I weaved in and out between her feet. I had to hear every single word she said. It had been a long time since our Katie had been home for a visit. Maybe . . .
“Yes, dear. Oh . . . a boy?” Mama’s eyebrows arched. “Not just a boy—a cute boy. Okay . . . a really cute boy.” With her free hand she stroked her chin thoughtfully. “This sounds serious.”
Daddy said something in the other room, only I couldn’t understand him. Since they were talking to my Katie, I had to hear every single word so I could tell what was going on.
Quick as a wink, I scampered to the hall. If I stood very still and quiet—about halfway between the bedroom and the kitchen—I could hear both of them.
• • •
People are sure strange.
When they finished their conference call, they came to the living room. They wrapped their arms around each other and hugged. Then they sat down on the couch and hugged some more. The Mama laughed. Then she cried. Then she laughed again.
Our Katie was coming home from college. Next week Mama and Daddy would go to watch her “Glad You Ate.” The boy she met would already be home from his school. It was a different college from the one where Katie went. His Mama and Daddy lived in the same town where we did. When Katie came home from college, she wanted the Mama and Daddy to meet him.
All that was okay. It was fine with the Mama and Daddy. Then Katie said something and they both yelped into the phone:
“Married!”
From that second on, everything got all mixed up and confused.
As I watched them on the couch, I could sense all sorts of strange feelings. There was a feel of excitement. There was a feel of happy. There was sad. There were all these things and more—all mixed up and rolled together. So Mama and Daddy didn’t watch TV. They didn’t even talk much. They just sat on the couch and hugged.
I hopped up on their laps to see if I could help. They just ignored me. I paced back and forth for a while, then scampered to jump against the back door.
Willy knew mouth math. He knew bored. (I’d been that before, but I never had a name for it until Willy told me.) He knew college, “talkie-lights,” geometry, conference calls. Surely he would know what “Married” was.
I kept throwing myself against the door until the Mama finally came.
“What’s gotten into you, you crazy cat?” the Mama mumbled to herself as she flung the door wide.
I shot through the opening. I had to get to Willy’s. I had to . . .
I didn’t even make it off the porch.
My legs locked up. They stiffened so quickly, my claws scraped as I slid across the concrete. Holding my breath, I froze and looked around.
There was someone here!
A new and different smell. A presence. The hair at the base of my tail tingled. Whatever it was, it was close.
It was watching me!
• • •
“Hey, Cat! What are you doing here?”
The meow made my whiskers spring up. My tail puffed. I spun around.
“Who’s there? Who said that?”
Movement caught my eye. A fuzzed-up gray cat appeared at the corner of my house. He strolled toward me. This was my house—my yard—my property. But this guy acted as calm and cool as if he belonged here. My rear end wiggled back and forth, ready to pounce.
I blinked. Then . . . I blinked again.
This guy wasn’t fuzzed-up. He was big!
He marched toward me like he owned the place. Like this was his yard and I was the one who didn’t belong. My back arched. He came closer. I turned sideways, lowered my head, and pushed my shoulder forward to protect myself if he pounced.
“What are you doing here?” he repeated.
“This is my yard.” I hissed, trying to sound tough and brave. He cocked his head. The whiskers on one side of his mouth went up. My tight eyes watched his every move.
Next thing I knew, I was upside-down against the neighbor’s trash can. But instead of hopping back to my feet and bouncing sideways to attack again, I just lay there. Willy hurried over. He stared at me a moment. When I still didn’t move, he leaned down and sniffed. That huge nose felt like the time I got tangled up with the Mama’s vacuum cleaner.
“Chuck? Chuck, are you all right? I didn’t mean to hurt you. I thought we were just playing. Chuck? Chuck?”
I peeked at him out of one eye.
“Got ya.”
Willy’s big brown eyes tightened to tiny slits in his huge black face. His snort ruffled my fur.
“That wasn’t nice. You scared me. Come on and get . . .”
He stopped what he was saying. I couldn’t help but notice the sly twinkle in his tight eyes.
“Come on,” he repeated. “Get up . . . Chuck.”
I flipped over and hopped to my feet. “Don’t start that Upchuck stuff with me,” I warned. “You know how bad that ticks me off.”
He gave a little snort. Well, it was a little snort for Willy. For me, the wind that came was almost enough to roll me back against the trash can. He turned and trotted off.
“I’m hungry, Chuck. Come on.”
• • •
When we got to Luigi’s Italian Restaurant, Willy used his nose to knock on the screen door. A smiling face, with black hair and a black mustache, peeked around the corner from the pantry.
“There’s me two boys,” Luigi greeted. “How’s my big kitty and my little puppy?” His mustache curled up on both ends. Before opening the screen, he wiped his hands on his white apron. (Well, it might have been white, once. Now it was all covered with speckles of tomato sauce.) Luigi knelt down and scratched Willy behind the ears. Willy always got such a goofy look on his face when Luigi did that. He wiggled and waggled and almost twisted himself in half. Once he’d petted Willy, Luigi reached out and gave me a quick rub. For a second he scratched at that good place on my back—right where it joins my tail.
“Luigi not see you boys for a whole week. What’s wrong? You mad at Luigi? You no more like his good spaghetti and meatballs?”
Willy jumped up and put his big paws on Luigi’s side. Luigi was short and stout. Still, Willy almost knocked him over. Luigi caught himself and scratched the big mutt’s ears some more. I rubbed against Luigi’s leg.
“Your spaghetti and meatballs are the best in the whole wide world,” I purred. “We didn’t want to make you mad by coming too often. But we love your spaghetti and meatballs.”
Luigi disappeared inside. In a moment he came back with a huge bowl for Willy and a smaller or regular size bowl for me. He plopped them down in front of us, held his tummy, and laughed when we practically climbed into the bowls to get at the fantastic meal.
I loved Luigi’s laugh. It was almost as nice and heartwarming as his spaghetti and meatballs.
• • •
The trouble with eating at Luigi’s was that sometimes it was hard to make it back home.
CHAPTER 4
Willy and I didn’t make it home.
“I think I’m gonna blow up.” Willy lay on his back in the tall grass. It was the only place on the whole block behind my house where there was still grass. Every place else had been cleared off for new houses. Willy squirmed and wiggled, scratching his back on the ground. “I think I’m gonna blow up,” he repeated.
I curled into a ball beside him. Not near enough so that he’d smush me with all his rolling and scratching, but close. I clutched my tummy with my paws.
“Think I’m gonna blow up, too.” I licked a little of the leftover spaghetti sauce off my whiskers. In the distance I heard sort of a roaring, rumbling sound. I guess Willy heard it, too. Frowning, Willy and I both listened.
The roaring came closer.
We watched as this huge truck came around the corner. It had a big box on the back. It stopped in front of one of the houses. Three men got out. They stretched. They scratched, just like the boys did who were playing with the ball. Then they just stood around.
It wasn’t long before a car drove up. A man, a woman, and a little girl got out. The man went to talk with the three guys beside the big truck. The woman and the little girl opened the front door of the house. The three men started carrying things from the big box on the back of their truck. They brought cardboard boxes, three couches, tables, chairs, lamps, and all sorts of stuff.
The man and woman opened the back of their car and began carrying things into the house, too. The little girl reached in the back seat. I felt my eyes get big and round. They almost popped out of my head when I saw her carry this box into the garage. It was made of blue plastic and had a wire front.
It was the same box my friend Tom left in! Yes! Just like the box Tom’s people put him in. Was it. . .
No, it couldn’t be.
But maybe . . .
My eyes got even bigger. There was something furry and fuzzy inside. It moved. It wiggled. It was something alive. But I couldn’t make out what it was. As soon as the little girl put it down, she came back and got another box.
For an instant I was so excited that I could hardly stand it. But . . . these people were not Tom’s people.
Willy stretched and shook. Standing as close as I was and as big as he was, his shake felt like an earthquake beneath my feet.
“I got to get home.” He smiled down at me. “It’s about time for my people to come in from work. Let’s go. We can play tag or something until they get there.”
I looked at my friend. I looked back at the little girl and the plastic boxes with the wire fronts.
For an instant I thought about telling Willy that I couldn’t come to his house because I needed to get home, too. If I stayed here and watched . . . if there were cats in the blue plastic boxes with the wire fronts and if they were nice cats . . . well, I really wanted to stay.
But . . . Willy was my best friend. A cat just doesn’t lie to his best friend.
• • •
The next afternoon I crouched beside Willy’s house. He left the bush near the back fence and strolled to the pecan tree. Head high and nose wiggling to sniff the air, he circled it. With him on the far side of the tree, now was my chance. I darted from my hiding place beside his house and shot behind the air-conditioner thing.
Willy always checked the bush at the back fence, the pecan tree, his house, and then the air conditioner. Always the same pattern. Always in the same order.
If I was quick and timed it just right, I could make my next break when he went around the opposite side of his doghouse. From there he couldn’t see me shoot across the yard and scamper up the tree. He’d follow the path again, and if I stayed really still . . . well, he’d already checked the pecan tree, so he wouldn’t even think I was back there. The dumb mutt would do it over and over. He’d keep circling and circling and . . .
Suddenly a familiar smell tweaked my keen nose. It made my whole body freeze. I didn’t move so much as a muscle.
Not far from where I hid, a pipe ran from the air-conditioner thing and into the people house. It was wrapped with some kind of black, rubber stuff, and there was a gap or crack in the brick where it went into the house. My eyes tightened. My tail wanted to twitch, but I kept it still. I didn’t even wiggle my whiskers. It was the smell of . . .
Mice!
A sound came. It was so soft and faint that only the sharpest ears could pick it up. Scratching—tiny claws scraping on brick. I squinted at the hole around the black pipe. Held my breath. Every muscle tensed, ready to pounce.
“Watch it,” a little squeak warned. “I haven’t seen that stupid cat today, but the big dog might be out there.”
A single whisker appeared, then disappeared.
My body took over. It wiggled me into a crouch. Almost flat against the ground, every muscle was tight as a steel spring. The instant that mouse slipped from the hole, he was mine! Whiskers appeared once more, followed by a tiny, wiggly black nose. It twitched a couple of times, then drew back into the safety of the hole. I didn’t blink.
“All clear,” the little squeak said. “I’ll be back in just a second.”
Sure enough, here he came. He shot from the hole. He only got about three steps toward Willy’s food bowl when my steel-spring muscles began to uncoil. My aim was perfect. My pounce—stealthy and quick. There was no way he could escape my . . .
Something hit me!
My eyes flashed. What was it? I’d been attacked from behind. A hard nudge or push, right against my bottom. And . . . it came at the exact same second that I pounced.
Suddenly my well-aimed and next-to-perfect pounce sent me tumbling out of control. My tail spun round and round. My paws and claws grabbed for something—anything. There was nothing but air.
Spinning and flopping in an out-of-control somersault, I saw the blue sky. I saw the ground and the mouse. I saw the blue sky again. I saw the ground and the mouse. This time he looked up at me. For just an instant I noticed the terrified expression on his face. I saw the blue sky a third time. I saw the ground and no mouse. But I did catch a glimpse of the mouse’s tail as it disappeared back inside the hole. Then . . .
I saw stars.
That’s because I landed smack-dab on my head. I hit the hard ground, bounced a couple of times, and ended up against the side of the house with my feet and tail sticking straight up in the air.
Startled, stunned, and a little dizzy, all I could do was lie there. The way I landed with my butt up against the wall, my tail drooped down between my hind legs. The tip of it rested on my nose. I could see blue sky on either side.
All at once the sky grew dark.
This huge, black head blocked the light. Brown eyebrows scrunched down to a worried frown. An enormous mouth opened. All I could see were white teeth surrounding a gigantic bottomless cavern. It moved closer.
“Willy!” I managed to hiss. (It was really hard to hiss, since I was upside-down with my neck scrunched so my chin was against my chest.) “Willy, if you pick me up in your mouth and try to drop me in your water bowl, so help me . . . I’ll claw you to shreds!”
The enormous cavern made a clunk sound when it snapped shut. Soft, worried brown eyes studied me for a moment. They blinked.
“I didn’t mean to tag you so hard.” Willy sighed.
Then . . .
Willy got tickled.
“You should have seen that poor mouse,” he said with a chuckle. “I never saw such a terrified look in my life. And you . . . flipping head over heels, sailing through the air and . . . and . . .”
I struggled to my feet and glared at him. Willy tried to straighten up. He clamped his lips shut. His nose pinched tight.
Only, he couldn’t hold it. When he let his laugh out, it came in the way of a snort through his enormous nose. The spray made me feel like I’d been hit with a water hose. It was disgusting.
It made my whiskers twitch and my fur ripple.
Willy laughed and rolled and flopped around.
“It’s not that funny!” I hissed.
Willy tried to look serious, but I could tell he was about to bust again. “Don’t get yourself all fuzzed . . . up, Chuck.”
“That’s it!” Without even looking back, I trotted to the big double-gate and squeezed through the crack.
I really wasn’t as mad as I pretended. Still, Willy was overdoing it. It might have been funny—but not that funny.
Besides, it was time to check in at home—see what was going on there.
CHAPTER 5
The Mama and Daddy were on a conference call when I got home.
That’s what Willy had told me it was, one time when I’d asked him about it. For a long time I’d thought the Mama was just talking to herself when she put the white thing, with the long cord, against the side of her head. A few days later the Mama was talking to herself in the kitchen and the Daddy was talking to himself in the bedroom. I finally realized they were talking to each other. That was really strange. They lived in the same house, yet they went to different rooms and stuck the white things against their heads so they could talk. Why not just sit down on the couch to visit, like they usually did?
When I asked Willy about it, he explained that they really weren’t talking to each other. The white thing with the long cord was called a telephone and some other person was speaking with them. Only I couldn’t hear the other people. When more than two people got on the phone, it was called a conference call.
Now, Willy was a dog. It’s common knowledge that dogs are simply not the brightest animals—especially compared to us cats.
For a dumb dog Willy sure knew a bunch of stuff. When my Katie first went off to college, she didn’t come home for a while. I asked Willy if college was mean and if it was holding her hostage and wouldn’t let her come to see us. Willy told me that college was just a place, and my Katie would come home to visit. She did. Willy knew mouth math—that’s like two times two is four, and six times six is thirty-six, and eight times nine is seventy-two. Willy learned that and geometry because his boy used to lie on the bed and repeat his mouth math over and over and over again. He didn’t think Willy was listening, but he was.
Willy knew how to read the “talkie-light” on the corner of the busy street. He knew that when it was red and the squiggly things that looked like “D-O-N-’-T W-A-L-K” were there, it said “Stop, Willy.” When it was yellow, it told the cars to “Go faster.” And when it was green with the squiggles “W-A-L-K,” it said, “Come on, Willy. Let’s go.”
Dumb mutt?
Maybe dogs weren’t too smart. Maybe Willy really wasn’t a dog. When I first met him, I thought he was some strange animal called a Rotten Willy. Maybe he really wasn’t a dog at all. Maybe he . . .
“Yes, Katie. We love you, too.” The Mama smiled at the telephone. “Of course we’ll be there for graduation.”
When I heard the name “Katie,” my pointed ears shot straight up. Every thought fluttered from my head, as fast as a hummingbird flutters from a flower. My Katie was the other people on the phone. They were talking to my girl.
I raced to the Mama and rubbed against her as I weaved in and out between her feet. I had to hear every single word she said. It had been a long time since our Katie had been home for a visit. Maybe . . .
“Yes, dear. Oh . . . a boy?” Mama’s eyebrows arched. “Not just a boy—a cute boy. Okay . . . a really cute boy.” With her free hand she stroked her chin thoughtfully. “This sounds serious.”
Daddy said something in the other room, only I couldn’t understand him. Since they were talking to my Katie, I had to hear every single word so I could tell what was going on.
Quick as a wink, I scampered to the hall. If I stood very still and quiet—about halfway between the bedroom and the kitchen—I could hear both of them.
• • •
People are sure strange.
When they finished their conference call, they came to the living room. They wrapped their arms around each other and hugged. Then they sat down on the couch and hugged some more. The Mama laughed. Then she cried. Then she laughed again.
Our Katie was coming home from college. Next week Mama and Daddy would go to watch her “Glad You Ate.” The boy she met would already be home from his school. It was a different college from the one where Katie went. His Mama and Daddy lived in the same town where we did. When Katie came home from college, she wanted the Mama and Daddy to meet him.
All that was okay. It was fine with the Mama and Daddy. Then Katie said something and they both yelped into the phone:
“Married!”
From that second on, everything got all mixed up and confused.
As I watched them on the couch, I could sense all sorts of strange feelings. There was a feel of excitement. There was a feel of happy. There was sad. There were all these things and more—all mixed up and rolled together. So Mama and Daddy didn’t watch TV. They didn’t even talk much. They just sat on the couch and hugged.
I hopped up on their laps to see if I could help. They just ignored me. I paced back and forth for a while, then scampered to jump against the back door.
Willy knew mouth math. He knew bored. (I’d been that before, but I never had a name for it until Willy told me.) He knew college, “talkie-lights,” geometry, conference calls. Surely he would know what “Married” was.
I kept throwing myself against the door until the Mama finally came.
“What’s gotten into you, you crazy cat?” the Mama mumbled to herself as she flung the door wide.
I shot through the opening. I had to get to Willy’s. I had to . . .
I didn’t even make it off the porch.
My legs locked up. They stiffened so quickly, my claws scraped as I slid across the concrete. Holding my breath, I froze and looked around.
There was someone here!
A new and different smell. A presence. The hair at the base of my tail tingled. Whatever it was, it was close.
It was watching me!
• • •
“Hey, Cat! What are you doing here?”
The meow made my whiskers spring up. My tail puffed. I spun around.
“Who’s there? Who said that?”
Movement caught my eye. A fuzzed-up gray cat appeared at the corner of my house. He strolled toward me. This was my house—my yard—my property. But this guy acted as calm and cool as if he belonged here. My rear end wiggled back and forth, ready to pounce.
I blinked. Then . . . I blinked again.
This guy wasn’t fuzzed-up. He was big!
He marched toward me like he owned the place. Like this was his yard and I was the one who didn’t belong. My back arched. He came closer. I turned sideways, lowered my head, and pushed my shoulder forward to protect myself if he pounced.
“What are you doing here?” he repeated.
“This is my yard.” I hissed, trying to sound tough and brave. He cocked his head. The whiskers on one side of his mouth went up. My tight eyes watched his every move.
