“What are you doing here?”

  Calm and casual as could be, he marched right up in front of me. He kind of stuck his nose in the air, and looked around.

  “I like this yard. Maybe I’ll decide to make it my yard.” He took a deep breath. Now he was even bigger than I thought. “Maybe I’ll just chase you away and . . .”

  A second voice meowed. It startled me even more than the first. There were two of them. I was outnumbered—surrounded.

  CHAPTER 6

  Roscoe, would you knock it off with that tough-guy routine!” the second meow said.

  Trembling, my head jerked in the other direction.

  A second cat appeared. This one strolled toward me from the north corner of my house. It was a girl cat. Smaller than the gray, she was every bit as calm and confident. I fought the shaking in my legs. They wanted to run away. Making them stay under me, I tried to act cool. She looked at the gray cat, swished her tail, then glanced at me.

  “You’ll have to pardon my brother. He was pretty old when our people decided to have him ‘fixed.’ He still thinks he’s got to prove what a tough tomcat he is.”

  The smaller cat was black instead of gray. She marched right up to the big, fuzzy monster who stood in front of me and bopped him on the head with her paw.

  “Quit being such a nerd, Roscoe.” She shoved her way between us and sat down. Her tail wrapped around her leg. “We just moved in.” With a jerk of her head, she motioned to the house across the alley. “We were stuck in these dumb boxes for three days. Our people just let us out this morning, and we’ve been exploring.”

  She stood and leaned forward. Her movements were slow and not the least bit threatening. “My name’s Rikki. This is my dumb brother, Roscoe. And you are?”

  “Chuck,” I meowed. Only I didn’t really meow. The sound that came out was more of a squeak. I flipped my tail and cleared my throat.

  “Chuck,” I repeated—this time trying to make myself act big and brave and tough. “I’ve lived here a long time. I was a boy cat, once, too. I’m just as mean and rough as—”

  “I can’t believe you two!” she interrupted. Real prissy-like, she spun around and flipped her tail from side to side as she walked off. “What is this . . . a guy thing? I just want to look our new home over, find some nice friends, and see what kind of fun things there are to do. You two want to play tough guy with each other, go right ahead. I’ll be out romping and having a good time. In the meanwhile, you two will end up all scratched and bloody and hurt.”

  Both of us watched as she strolled away. The big, mean-looking gray cat didn’t seem so tough. He kind of ducked his head, and there was this real sheepish look on his face.

  “She’s a little bossy, sometimes.” He shrugged. “But she really is sweet. She’s fun, too—well . . . for a sister.”

  He took another deep breath to puff himself up. Then he let it out, and his shoulders sagged.

  “My name’s Roscoe,” he purred. “I’m not really very big—I’m a Persian. I got lots of hair, so I just look that way. Get me wet and there’s not much cat at all. I’m not very mean, either. I’d rather play than fight.”

  I licked my paw and washed my whiskers.

  “I’m Chuck. Since my friend Louie got smushed by a car and since my other friend Tom moved away . . . well, I’m the only cat in the whole neighborhood. I’m not very mean, either. You want to play? You want to be friends?”

  “I’d like that.” He leaned over and rubbed his shoulder against mine.

  Tails high, we took off. We bounced across my backyard and caught up with Rikki at the alley. I sat down beside her. Roscoe plopped on my other side.

  “So what kind of action is there around here?” she asked.

  I frowned at her. “Huh? Action . . . what’s that?”

  She cocked an eyebrow and switched her tail to the other side. “What is there to do? Are there neat trees to climb? Ponds where we could chase frogs? Are there other cats to make friends with?”

  “I’m the only cat in the whole neighborhood. But there’s lots to do. There used to be a field, right here where your house is. It had plenty of mice to chase. There was even a skunk who lived here. Over there“—I pointed with my nose—”where those tall trees are—that’s Farmer McVee’s place. In the fall, crows come and steal his pecans. He has cows. They’re these big . . . I mean really big . . . animals who have two teeth growing out of the tops of their head. I think they call them horns. They stand around and eat grass and all they know how to say is ’Moo.’ Anyway, sometimes Willy and I would go over and chase them.”

  “Was Willy one of your friends?”

  “Yeah. He’s the—”

  “Willy must be huge,” she interrupted without letting me finish. “I mean, if these cow things are as big as you say and have teeth growing out of their heads . . . that Willy must have been one enormous, ferocious kitty.”

  I wanted to explain about Willy, but I didn’t get the chance. Roscoe nudged me with his shoulder so hard I almost tipped over.

  “What’s over there?”

  “Oh, that’s Luigi’s Italian Restaurant. We’ll have to go there—for sure. Only not today. I just ate there yesterday. Luigi is nice and fun and friendly. He makes the best spaghetti and meatballs you ever put in your mouth. But never . . . and I mean never . . . go to the road on the other side of his place.”

  Rikki hopped to her feet, spun around, and raced back across my yard. “What’s this direction?” she called over her shoulder.

  Roscoe and I chased after her. We sat in my front yard, a few feet from the street.

  “Who lives there?” she asked.

  “Nobody lives in that one . . . well, just people. Two prissy, fufu poodles live in the house next to it. They’re all groomed and fluffed, so they think they’re a lot cuter than they really are. They’re totally nasty and they hate cats. The next house belongs to Rocky.”

  “Who’s Rocky?” Roscoe wondered.

  “Rocky’s a Doberman. He’s the most horrible, mean, obnoxious animal in the whole world. He’s not very bright, though. Jumping against the fence and barking threats is about all he does. Only Rocky can’t jump and bark at the same time, so he never really finishes what he’s trying to say.”

  Rikki twitched her whiskers. “How about that house on the corner? Who lives there?”

  “Oh, that’s where . . .” I suddenly stopped what I was saying. I had told them that Willy and I used to chase Farmer McVee’s cows. They thought Willy was a cat, like us. But Willy wasn’t like us. Willy was . . .

  “That’s where . . .” I repeated, only I stopped again. “A Rottweiler lives there. He’s huge! But he’s really nice. He’s kind and caring and . . .”

  I wanted to say, “he’s my friend,” but for some reason, it just didn’t come out. I felt my hair ripple when I cleared my throat. “He’s really nice,” I repeated. “He’s not mean at all.”

  Rikki stood up and swished her tail so hard that it flopped me on the ear. “No such thing as a nice dog. Sometimes they might act nice, just to make us drop our guard. Thing is, they’re mean and sneaky and loud and . . . and . . . well, dogs are just dogs.”

  “Are there more houses behind the ones where the fufu poodles and Rocky and the Rottweiler live?” Roscoe kind of weaved his body back and forth, like he was trying to see between the houses.

  “No. On the other side is a field where boy people try to hit each other with a little round ball. Past that is what my friend, Louie, called the football field. People bring their dogs and walk around the track. Tom and I used to sit on the fence and . . . and . . .”

  Rikki hopped to her feet and bounded across the street. “Come on,” she called over her shoulder. “I want to see. It sounds like fun.”

  CHAPTER 7

  Rikki, Roscoe, and I spent the rest of the afternoon exploring. There were no boys playing with the ball. The stadium was empty, too. I guess that was because a man on a tractor was spraying something on the grass. It smelled really bad. We didn’t stick around. Rikki and Roscoe told me they wanted to come back tomorrow, though.

  We watched the workmen, busy and noisy around the houses. They kept looking down at the little tick-tock things on their arms. It wasn’t long before they put their tools away and left. We rolled and romped and played tag and chase in my backyard. Just before dark we strolled over to Farmer McVee’s and looked at his cows.

  Rikki and Roscoe had never seen cows before. I guess they didn’t believe me when I told them about the two teeth growing out of the tops of their head. When Roscoe saw them, his tail fuzzed. Rikki’s eyes almost bugged out of her head, then they crossed and she took off for home. We followed—tails high, bounding and scampering through the field and grass like frisky little kittens.

  When our people called us for supper, we promised to get together, first thing in the morning, and play again. As soon as I finished eating, I curled up on the couch and fell asleep. I was really tired. I didn’t even patrol the house that night, checking for mice and stuff. I just slept.

  It was a fun day. I could hardly wait until tomorrow.

  • • •

  My two new friends were already on the back porch when the Mama let me outside.

  My feet barely hit the concrete when Rikki swatted me on the rump with her paw.

  “Tag. You’re it.”

  Both cats darted off in opposite directions. I chased after Rikki first. She was a girl, so she should be easier to tag.

  Wrong!

  There was no problem catching up with her. Trouble was, as soon as I did and reached out a paw to tag her, Rikki dodged or darted out of my way. She was really quick. I swatted and leaped. Once I even made a flying pounce at her. While I was still in midair, she managed to tuck her tail, flatten both ears, and dart right under me.

  Tail spinning, I reached for her anyway. Ended up landing in the grass on the back of my neck. I rolled about three times before I scrambled to my feet and took after her again.

  She led me back toward where Roscoe was. I don’t know how long I chased her, but her brother was sitting beside a tree, watching. Guess he decided I wasn’t coming after him until I caught Rikki. When she dodged out of my way, and I kept racing across the yard—right at him—the startled look on his face almost made me miss.

  His eyes got as big around as my food bowl. He scampered to his feet, only he stumbled a couple of times. It was just long enough for me to nail him on one ear and make my escape.

  Roscoe chased me all over the yard. Once, he thought he had me treed. That’s because he saw me leap up the oak in my side yard. Only when I heard his claws digging into the other side of the trunk, I jumped back to the ground and headed for the rosebushes in the front yard. I gave him the slip.

  How he caught Rikki, I don’t know. She was the one who found me, hiding in the roses. Girl cats are sneaky. She strolled up, calm as could be, and asked me if I’d seen her brother. Watching her, as she eased closer, I couldn’t help but notice the evil glint in her eye. My muscles tensed.

  A split second before she leaped, I darted to the opposite side of the rosebush and took off.

  “Tag. You’re . . .”

  She never got the it out. She had her paw raised and pounced just as I ducked behind the bush. She tried to adjust her aim while she was in the air, and ended up smacking into the roses.

  “Ouch!” I heard from behind me. I didn’t even slow down long enough to glance back.

  We played tag until our tongues were hanging out and our sides were heaving for air. For a rest, we decided on hide and seek. Rikki was it first.

  Roscoe went in front of my house. I guess he was going to hide in the bushes, but I figured that would be the first place Rikki would look for me. I went in the other direction. Racing straight to the oak tree, I scratched on the bark as loud as I could. I dug and scraped and made a bunch of racket—like I was climbing up the tree. Then quietly I sneaked behind the tree, raced across the alley, and hid behind the trash can in Rikki and Roscoe’s backyard.

  It was a neat move. I had a long time to rest and catch my breath before they finally sniffed me out.

  Roscoe was it next. Then me.

  Hide and seek was fun. The two cats never followed the same pattern—never looked in the same places—when they came hunting. They didn’t stick out from behind telephone poles or over the top of bushes like Willy did, when we played hide and seek. It was really a challenge to hide from them or find them, either one.

  Playing tag was even better. With two cats I didn’t have to worry about getting run over or smushed. We frolicked and played and romped until our whiskers were so high, they almost tickled our own ears.

  “Come on,” I said, noticing where the sun was in the sky. “I’ve got a surprise for you. You’re in for a treat.”

  Hopping and trotting and bouncing, Roscoe and Rikki followed me across the alley and to the street in front of their house. There, I looked both ways to make sure there were no cars, then led them across. We passed workmen and places where the ground was bare because they had scraped areas for another new house. I raced across the field and right to the back door of Luigi’s Italian Restaurant.

  Roscoe’s nose wiggled at the air. “Something really smells good!”

  Rikki licked her lips. “It sure does.” She stayed behind her brother while I went to the screen.

  I guess there were a couple of things that messed me up. One—I was really excited about sharing Luigi’s wonderful spaghetti and meatballs with my new friends. Two—I was probably trying to show off . . . just a little. I mean, it was really easy, since Luigi knew me, to get a free meal. I probably wanted to impress them.

  Whatever the reason, I just wasn’t thinking. Without listening to tell if anyone was in the storeroom, I hopped up on the screen door. I grabbed the mesh with my claws and shook.

  Almost instantly an arm reached out and shoved the door. My eyes flashed. The door flung wide. I tried to jump down, but my claws hung in the little squares of wire. The door flew faster. Gritting my teeth so hard I could hear them grinding inside my head, I realized . . .

  It was too late!

  Clinging to the screen, I blinked a couple of times to get things in focus. Then, still a little cross-eyed, I stared down my nose.

  Yep. Sure enough. Just what I was afraid of.

  My whiskers were all crinkled.

  The screen hadn’t fallen shut, yet, when I loosened my grip and dropped to the ground. Rikki rushed over. She tilted her head to the side, studying me. Her eyes seemed to watch mine, trying to see what I was looking at. When she noticed my whiskers, she sighed.

  “Don’t you just hate it when that happens?”

  CHAPTER 8

  Our whiskers are really important to us cats. They help us keep our balance. They tell us if an opening is wide enough to squeeze through. Our whiskers tell us all sorts of stuff. They’re supposed to be straight and well groomed.

  The way the whiskers on the right side of my face got smushed between the screen and the brick wall . . . well . . . they were crinkled up like a wad of paper. Curled and kinky as springs, the whiskers wouldn’t straighten out. It threw my whole world off balance.

  I staggered from behind the screen. The door made a squeaking sound. Glancing up, I saw a young man standing there. He had black hair, like Luigi, but no fur under his nose. Scowling down at us, his lip kind of curled on one side.

  “Hey, Uncle Luigi. There’s a whole pack of stray cats out here. Want me to run ’em off?”

  From the other room I heard Luigi’s familiar voice. I didn’t understand what he said, though. Pots and pans rattled. Then, wiping his hands on his apron, Luigi came from the kitchen. The whiskers under his nose went up on both sides when he saw me.

  “That’s no stray cat. That’s me buddy.”

  He gently nudged the boy with the black hair aside and reached for the door. I stumbled back. (I would have hopped back, only—like I said, my whiskers were out of whack, and it threw my balance off.) Anyway, I moved.

  “There’s my big kitty cat. How you doin’ today? You come for some of Luigi’s wonderful spaghetti and meatballs?”

  I purred and stepped up to rub my cheek against his leg. When I did, I glanced down. Out of the corner of one eye, I could see my crinkled whiskers. I wiggled them. It distracted me a little. Instead of rubbing my cheek against Luigi’s leg, I clunked his shin with my forehead. The impact crossed my eyes.

  Luigi didn’t seem to notice. He squatted down and rubbed my neck.

  “How’s my boy today? You hungry, kitty?” He stopped petting me. “Where’s my other friend?”

  Holding my breath, I cringed. Please don’t ask where the “puppy” is. Please—not in front of Rikki and Roscoe. Luigi looked around a moment, but he didn’t say anything.

  “I brought some new friends for you to meet.” I purred. “This is Rikki and Roscoe. They’re really neat and fun and . . .”

  “Oh, I see you bring some new friends for Luigi.”

  “I just told you that.” I purred.

  Rikki flipped her tail. “People just don’t understand.”

  Luigi swooped me up in his arms. Between the squashed whiskers and the sudden weightlessness . . . I felt just a little dizzy. He held me in front of his face and smiled. Then he laughed.

  “You a good cat. Bring new friends to Luigi’s. You been telling them about how delicious is Luigi’s wonderful food?”

  “You can’t tell anybody that.” I purred so loud, I knew Luigi could feel me vibrating. “Words just can’t explain how fantastic your spaghetti and meatballs are, Luigi. They have to taste it before they could even come close to believing it.”

  Luigi’s rumbling laugh and his smile always made me feel warm inside. He put me down and rubbed my back once more. Then he went inside.

 

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