We cats don’t have a very good sense of smell. Well, it’s a lot better than people’s. Still, we depend more on our eyes and ears than on our noses. I couldn’t follow the scent very far. It went to the left, though. It went toward the football field.

  My tail stood straight up behind me.

  Maybe . . . maybe the stranger wasn’t really a stranger at all. Maybe Willy knew him and they went for a walk or . . . or . . .

  I had to know. I had to find him. The football field. The track. If Willy knew the stranger and they had only gone for a walk, that would be the first place to look.

  I bounded across the driveway, down the block, past the field where the boys threw the round ball at each other and scratched a lot. Roscoe and Rikki raced close behind as I headed straight for the fence.

  CHAPTER 11

  See the haircut on that pink dude? You ever see anything so stupid-looking in your life?”

  With a frown I tilted my head to the side. “I think it’s called apricot. Not pink.”

  “Apricot, pink . . .” Roscoe shrugged his whiskers. “Who cares. It’s ridiculous.”

  “Yeah,” Rikki purred. “Talk about a ‘bad-hair day.’ ”

  I smiled, remembering Tom and our alley cat friend, Louie.

  “My friend Tom used to call poodles Tutu Butt, because of the weird haircuts they had.”

  Rikki was on one side of me. Roscoe was on the other. When I said that, they both leaned into me. They hit so hard, I felt kind of smushed. The way they laughed, I was afraid they were going to knock themselves off the fence.

  Their laughter made me feel good. This was fun!

  “Know why this guy has such a flat nose?” I wiggled my whiskers at the bulldog who waddled toward us. His master was a short, little, plump lady. She looked a lot like her dog.

  “No. Why is his nose so flat?” Rikki asked.

  Suddenly a chill raced up my spine. It came clear from the base of my tail and stopped right between my shoulder blades. Then a knot kind of tightened in my tummy.

  I can’t believe this, I thought. Here I am, trying to find Willy—my best friend—so I can introduce him to Roscoe and Rikki. And I’m sitting here on the fence at the football field, telling dumb dog jokes.

  “Why is his nose so flat?” Roscoe and Rikki urged when I didn’t say anything.

  The bulldog spotted us. But instead of barking and charging at the fence, he just wagged his little stub tail.

  I felt my shoulders sag. How could I be so insensitive? All dogs weren’t like Rocky. All dogs weren’t mean and hateful. Then again, all dogs weren’t like Willy, either. All dogs weren’t kind and tender and caring. In a way, dogs were just like us cats. Some were bad, some were good. They were all different.

  “Why is his nose so flat?” Roscoe and Rikki demanded. They meowed so loud, it startled me. I jerked from my thoughts and looked at them.

  “From chasing parked cars,” I said flatly. There was no fun in my joke. No punch to the punch line. I just said it.

  I felt like such a heel.

  “Let’s go someplace else.”

  I turned and started to hop down. Rikki and Roscoe scooted together, but they didn’t follow me.

  “No. Let’s stay here,” they protested. “Making fun of all these stupid dogs is neat!”

  “Hey”—Rikki wiggled her shoulders—“remember Spice?”

  Roscoe draped a paw over her shoulder. “Who could ever forget Spice,” he meowed. “Weirdest cat I ever met in my life.”

  “It wasn’t her fault,” Rikki said. “Spice’s people made her baby-sit with that stupid pooch. I think, when they were little, the mother put towels down in the bathtub and made Spice spend the night with it. That was the only way they could keep him shut up so he wouldn’t howl all night.”

  Roscoe nodded his head and gave a little snort. “Yeah, but I don’t care whose fault it was. She was still weird. She smelled like a dog. Spice even acted like a dumb dog sometimes. I didn’t want anything to do with her.”

  “It’s a shame.” Rikki sighed. “I really think Spice was a sweet cat. But I’m with you—no self-respecting cat would spend her time palling around with a nasty mutt.” Rikki rippled her fur and shuddered. “It makes me feel all creepy inside, just thinking about it.”

  Now I really didn’t feel good. The little knot that tightened in my stomach was a big knot now. It was so big, it clumped up in my throat and made it hard for me to swallow.

  Willy was my best friend. But I liked Rikki and Roscoe, too. They were cats and cats are cool. I’d had a ball the last couple of days playing hide and seek and chase. Just having someone—someone like me to pal around with . . . well . . . it was fun.

  I hoped, when they met Willy, they’d like him as much as I did. Only now I wasn’t sure it would ever work. The way they felt about dogs . . . Not only that, but the way they talked about cats who palled around with dogs . . . If I told them about Willy, they’d probably think I was weird. They might not want to be my friend anymore.

  I didn’t know what to do.

  Just as I turned to settle back beside them, a sudden noise from behind us made my tail fuzz.

  It was a loud roar—not the roar from a dog or anything—just a wall of noise that swept across the field with such force that it scared us.

  We spun to look.

  The racket came from the baseball field. When we got here, I’d noticed the boys throwing the ball at one another, just like they always did. I’d seen the people sitting on the cement steps. We didn’t pay them much attention, though. We stuck close to the fence so they wouldn’t notice us and were so busy concentrating on the dogs at the football field, I’d all but forgotten about them.

  Most of the noise came from the people on the cement steps. A whole bunch of them leaped to their feet, laughing and pointing.

  That’s when I saw it!

  The thing was huge. Black as death, except for little patches of brown over his eyes and around his chin, he was enormous. He had something in his mouth. It was round and white.

  The gigantic beast raced across the field, holding the little round ball in his mouth.

  One of the boys chased after him. He got almost close enough to grab him, when the beast dodged to the side. Another boy joined the chase, then another.

  One of the boys made a flying leap and tried to tackle him. The beast ducked to the side. The boy landed on his tummy, and a cloud of dust floated into the air. The people on the cement steps roared.

  Before long all the boys were running around the field, trying to get their ball back. Even two of the men with the black suits joined the chase. One time they thought they had the huge animal cornered. He managed to duck and dart and dodge his way through the crowd, leaving a whole bunch of boys flat on the ground in his wake.

  People on the cement steps laughed and laughed. A couple of them sat down, holding their tummies. Others leaned or bumped against people beside them. One guy laughed so hard he choked on his popcorn. The woman next to him had to beat him on the back.

  “That’s the most stupid thing I ever saw,” Rikki hissed with a sneer. “Can you believe how much trouble that dumb dog is causing? Just like a dumb mutt.”

  Willy was having the time of his life!

  Then . . . I saw it. A white pickup stopped at the edge of the baseball field. It had cages in the back and a flashing blue light on top. A man got out. He had on a brown shirt and brown pants. From the back of the truck, he picked up a long pole with a rope noose on the end.

  It was the pound!

  I felt sick.

  If I didn’t do something—and quick—Willy was going to be in so much trouble. . . .

  But if I went to rescue him—to make him give the ball back and run and hide before the man from the pound came—then Roscoe and Rikki would know that I had a dog for a friend. They wouldn’t like me anymore.

  Willy circled out to the far side of the field. Staying right against the fence, he outran the boys. How something that big and clunky-looking could move so fast, I didn’t know. He flew like a rocket around the field and right toward where we were sitting on the fence. The man from the pound came from the other direction. About the time Willy got to us, the “pound man” would be waiting.

  Willy didn’t even see him. He was watching the boys who chased him. If Willy didn’t look up, he was a goner!

  CHAPTER 12

  Willy! Drop it!”

  All four legs locked up. His eyes flashed wide. His paws dug into the dirt and grass of the field until they were half buried. His mouth fell open. The ball, all went and slobbery, rolled out and clunked on the ground.

  I guess I startled him. I mean . . . I probably looked like twice the cat I really was.

  My tail was puffed up about three times as big as normal. The fur on my back and sides stuck out to the very tips. I was totally fuzzed-up when I hopped from the fence and landed in front of him. A little dust covered me as he finally slid to a stop.

  “Chuck? Is that you?”

  Back arched, I hopped sideways toward him.

  “Come on, Willy,” I ordered with a quick glance over my shoulder. “It’s the guy from the pound.”

  I didn’t think Willy’s eyes could get any bigger around than they already were.

  They did.

  Both of us took off as hard and fast as we could run. We dodged between the boys dressed in the uniforms. We ran down one of the long straight chalk lines, hopped over the base, and darted out the opening in the fence.

  “Lucky that cat came along!” someone on the cement steps yelled. “Guess the dog would rather chase him than play with the ball.”

  “Lucky for the ball game,” someone called back. “Unlucky for the cat. If that dog ever catches him . . .”

  Voices faded in the distance. Behind us, I could still hear the laughter. Then someone yelled: “Play ball!” The sound of people clapping their paws—I mean hands—filled the air.

  Willy and I never slowed. He followed me around the ballpark, across the alley, down the sidewalk. We didn’t stop until we were safe inside Willy’s doghouse.

  Even then I didn’t know if we were really safe or not. That was because the big double-gate to Willy’s yard was wide open. If the man from the pound looked in and saw us . . .

  The sound of footsteps came to my sharp ears. Willy noticed it, too. His ears perked and his forehead wrinkled up as he listened. Both of us lay completely still. We didn’t wiggle. We hardly breathed. The footsteps stopped just outside the gate. This is it, I thought. We’re caught. We’re going to the pound.

  Then . . .

  A loud squeaking sound sent a chill racing up my back. One of the gates closed. The squeak came again when the other gate swung shut.

  I didn’t even have time to huff a sigh of relief when another sight caught my eye. Between the cracks in Willy’s wood fence, I saw it. It made my heart stop. A flashing blue light moved from one crack to the next. It finally stopped at the gap between the gates. Willy flattened himself against the floor of his doghouse. I shoved into his side. Held my breath.

  Peeking over his ear with one eye, I could see the blue light, clear as could be. It sat there a long time. Then there was the loud clunk—the sound of a door slamming.

  “Excuse me, young man,” an angry and mean voice called. “You didn’t happen to see a big black dog and a little scrawny cat, did you?”

  I tried to flatten myself behind Willy. There was a long silence.

  “Well . . .” a different voice began. “I was at the baseball field a little while ago and . . .”

  Willy’s head jerked straight up. His little stub tail started to wag.

  “. . . while I was there, I saw a big dog. He stole the ball and was running all over the field. But I haven’t seen him since then.”

  Willy started to get up. I slapped a paw over his leg.

  “Where are you going? Stay put. Hide.”

  “But that’s my boy. That’s David.” Willy’s long tongue flopped out of his mouth when he smiled. His little stub tail wagged his whole hind end.

  “I don’t care who it is,” I hissed. “Stay here until the man in brown is gone.”

  Reluctantly Willy sank back to the floor of the doghouse.

  Again, there was a long silence from the other side of the big double gate.

  “Well, here’s my card. If you do see them, be sure and give me a call. They’re dangerous. Especially that stinkin’ cat. The little thing looks sweet, but he’s as vicious as can be. I almost had them caught a few months ago. The darned cat attacked me. Bit me right on the . . . the . . . well, if you see them, be sure and give me a call.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll do that. Good luck finding them.”

  A door slammed. The blue light moved on, winking at us through the cracks in the fence until it was gone. Again Willy started to get up. I whopped him upside the head.

  “Cool it! Make sure he’s really gone. Just stay here a while.”

  We waited until we felt almost safe—almost relaxed—when suddenly the back door to Willy’s people house opened. Willy’s head popped up, tense and alert. I flattened down behind him.

  His tail started to wag, but he didn’t get up. I peeked around him. Long people legs appeared at the opening of his doghouse. Fists rested on hips above the legs.

  “I can’t believe you did that,” a deep voice scolded.

  Sheepishly Willy ducked his head.

  “Stealing the baseball was bad enough. But then you tear off and chase a cat. Willy . . . you’ve never chased cats. You grew up with Tuffy. You loved that old cat and she loved you. I can’t believe . . .”

  The people squatted down. I barely got a glimpse of him before I ducked behind Willy. The boy people was the stranger I had seen on Willy’s porch.

  Behind the enormous dog and in the shadows of his house, I was well hidden. I don’t think Willy’s boy saw me. Course, I couldn’t see much, either. I did see a hand reach in. From this side all I could see were the fingers that scratched Willy’s ears.

  “Tomorrow is one of the most important days of my life. Your life, too, for that matter. You’ve got to be on your best behavior. I mean, your very best behavior. Please . . . Willy . . . please don’t chase any more cats.”

  He gave Willy a hard but loving pat. Then he went back inside the people house. Willy wagged his tail until well after his boy was gone. Then he turned toward me and gave me a big, sloppy, wet kiss with his huge tongue.

  “Thank you, Chuck. I never saw the guy from the pound. If you hadn’t warned me . . .”

  “No problem,” I purred. “You would have done the same for me. That’s what friends are for.”

  I kissed him back. (Dogs really don’t taste good.)

  “Say, where have you been for the last couple of days?” he asked. “I’ve missed you.”

  I told Willy all about Rikki and Roscoe. I was afraid that he’d be mad because I had two new cats for friends. He wasn’t. In fact, he wanted to meet them.

  “They’re not too crazy about dogs,” I warned.

  “You weren’t, either,” he reminded me. “At least, not when we first met.”

  “But. . . but . . .” I stammered. “But what if they don’t come around, like I did? What if they never want to be friends?”

  Willy shrugged his big ears.

  “That’s not a problem. You can still have them and me—both—for friends. I mean, you can spend some days with them, some with me. It’s okay to have more than one friend.”

  I felt really good when I got back to my house that afternoon. Willy and I were safe. The man from the pound was gone. And Willy was right. You just can’t have too many friends. Even if Rikki and Roscoe didn’t come around to liking Willy as much as I did—that was okay. I could still be friends with all three of them.

  I walked around the house and went to the back porch so the Mama would let me in. Front paws on the screen, I was just getting ready to knock when something made me stop. I turned to see what it was.

  Rikki and Roscoe stood out in the middle of my backyard. Eyes tight, they glared at me.

  “Hi,” I said.

  Neither cat said anything. They just stared at me. Finally Rikki took a step forward.

  “What was the deal with that. . . dog?”

  The way she said “dog” was weird. She kind of spit the word out, like it left a nasty taste in her mouth.

  “That was no dog,” I answered proudly. “That was Willy. He’s the friend I wanted you to meet.”

  Rikki took a step back.

  “Your friend, Willy, is a . . . a . . . dog?”

  “Yep. He’s a dog, all right. But he’s really neat. He’s cool and fun to be with and—”

  “Wait a minute, Chuck,” Roscoe interrupted. “Let’s get one thing straight. Rikki and I will never be friends with a cat who hangs out with dogs. If you want us for your friend . . . well . . . you’re just going to have to make up your mind.”

  I tilted my head so far to the side, I thought I might tip over.

  “You mean I can’t be friends with Willy and with you and Rikki?”

  “You got it, Chuck,” Rikki joined in. “Either us or that nasty dog. You have to decide, one way or the other.”

  CHAPTER 13

  Quiet as could be, I sneaked across the yard. At the doorway I paused. A deep rumbling sound shook the morning air. I peeked in his room. He snored again. The noise was so loud it made the boards vibrate. His eyes were closed tight. Without a sound I stepped over his legs and took a seat near the far wall.

  The corners of my mouth tugged up when I watched him. Then with a sigh I felt them droop to a frown.

  Ugly!

  I shook my head, trying to chase the thought away. Nope, there was no other word. Just flat ugly.

  And smell . . .

  I blinked. The odor made my nose crinkle and my eyes flutter. What ever made me think I could be friends with one of them.

 

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