Table of Contents
Cover
Half Title Page
Title Page
Adventures at Tabby Towers
Chapter 1: Straight from the Jungle
Chapter 2: A Great Fishercat
Chapter 3: Furry Orange Cannonball
Chapter 4: Stay Calm, Tabby Cat
Chapter 5: Fishing for a Plan
Chapter 6: Baiting the Big Kitty
Chapter 7: Kicking Cat Legs
Chapter 8: The Purr-Fect Week
Is a Bengal the Cat for You?
Explore More
About the Author
About the Illustrator
Copyright
Back Cover
It’s Time for Your Adventure at Tabby Towers!
At Tabby Towers, we give cats the royal treatment. We are a first-class cats-only hotel that promises a safe, fun stay for all guests.
Tabby Towers has many cat toys and games. We make personal playtime for every guest. And we have a large indoor kitty playground that will satisfy every cat instinct, including climbing and hunting. Also, your kitty will never tire of watching our cow and chickens from the big playground window.
We are always just a short walk away from the cats. Tabby Towers is located in a large, sunny, heated room at the rear of our farmhouse. Every cat has a private litter box and a private, three-level “condo,” complete with bed, toys, and dishes. Of course, we will follow your feeding schedule too.
Tabby Towers Who’s Who
KIT FELINUS
Kit Felinus (fee-LEE-nus) is a lifelong cat lover. She has worked for cat rescue and shelter operations much of her adult life. After seeing the great success of Hound Hotel — the dog hotel next door — she realized the need for a cat hotel in the area. So she started Tabby Towers. She now cares for cats all day long and couldn’t be happier!
TOM FELINUS
Tom Felinus is certain that his wife, Kit, fell in love with him because of his last name, which means “catlike.” He is a retired homebuilder. He built Tabby Towers’ kitty condos, cat trees, and scratching posts. He built the playground equipment too, which will keep your kitty happy for hours.
TABITHA CATARINA FELINUS (Tabby Cat, for short)
Tabby Cat is Kit and Tom’s granddaughter and a true cat lover. In fact, the cat hotel is named after her! She helps at Tabby Towers in summer. The 8-year-old daughter of two veterinarians, Tabby lives in the city and has her own cat. She’s read almost as many books about cats as her grandma has! Tabby will give your kitty all the extra attention or playtime he or she may need.
Next time your family goes on vacation, bring your cat to Tabby Towers.
Your kitty is sure to have a purr-fect time!
CHAPTER 1
Straight from the Jungle
I’m Tabitha Catarina — Tabby Cat, for short. I’m crazy about cats. I’ve loved them my whole life. L-O-V-E-D, loved them! I even own a beautiful Himalayan cat named Bootsie.
Last spring, my parents decided to let me spend the summer at my grandparents’ farm. Being with Grandma Kit and Grandpa Tom is great. But here’s the best part: They run a cat hotel on their farm! It’s called Tabby Towers.
I get to play with all kinds of cats and kittens seven days a week.
I truly am the luckiest girl alive.
There’s only one problem. A big one. And her name is Alfreeda Wolfe.
Alfreeda is a girl my age who lives on the farm next door to my grandparents’ place. She wants to be good friends with me, but some days that seems impossible. Here’s why: She’s crazy about dogs. That’s fine, except she brags about them. She always puts down cats too. It makes me so mad.
Sometimes Alfreeda says things about cats that are total lies. Last month, she said some stuff that was completely wrong about a cat named Frankie. (Frankie was a guest at Tabby Towers then.) Alfreeda made my hair stand on end, just like the fur on an angry cat. I wanted to yell at her, “Please stop talking about cats! You don’t know anything about them! And it’s really, really annoying!”
Maybe you’re wondering if I really did yell at Alfreeda. Well, here’s the whole story.
It was early in the morning, in the middle of July. I had set my alarm extra early, because I couldn’t wait to meet a new guest. A Bengal cat named Frankie had arrived at Tabby Towers late the night before. (I’d already gone to bed.) I knew a lot about Bengal cats, but I’d never seen one in real life.
I sprang out of bed and tugged on my leopard-print leggings. I put on a clean Tabby Towers T-shirt and my cat-frame glasses. Then I brushed my hair and pulled it up into a high ponytail. I always wear it sticking up high, the way a happy cat holds its tail.
I hurried down the hallway, tiptoeing past my grandparents’ bedroom. Grandma Kit is an early riser, like me. But Grandpa Tom always sleeps until about lunchtime. That’s because he’s nocturnal, like cats. See, cats hunt by instinct at night. So Grandpa Tom always stays up very late with the hotel guests. He plays all sorts of predator-prey games with them. He makes them feel like they’re hunting or fishing in the wild.
I flew down the steps, hurried through the living room, and leaped into the big farmhouse kitchen. Our neighbor Winifred Wolfe stood at the sink. She runs a dog hotel next door to us. She’s a good friend of Grandma Kit’s. She’s also Alfreeda’s mother. Yes, that Alfreeda — the girl who won’t be quiet about how great dogs are, and how great cats aren’t. Mrs. Wolfe was busy washing Grandma Kit’s hair.
“Good morning,” I said.
“Hi, Tabitha!” Grandma Kit said, her head in the sink. Her voice sounded like it came from the bottom of a well.
“Good morning, Tabby Cat,” Mrs. Wolfe said in her usual cheerful voice. “We thought we’d get your grandma’s hair cut early, before our busy day begins.”
Alfreeda’s mom is the top dog groomer in the county. She’s won lots of awards. She’s great at cutting people’s hair too.
“Grandma Kit, is Frankie here?” I asked. “Can I play with him? Is it safe to open the hotel door?”
Grandma Kit laughed. “Yes, yes, and yes,” she said. “The kitties are all safe in their condos. Go ahead.”
I hurried through a door beside the refrigerator. It led to the back of the house. That’s whereTabby Towers was. Grandpa Tom and Grandma Kit had turned their big family room into the cat hotel.
I rushed past the kitty playground to the row of kitty condos. Each condo was a small, three-level apartment with a screen door.
“Hi, you cute things,” I said to kittens Fifi and Furbaby. They were a brother and sister who shared a condo.
I peeked inside the second condo and said good morning to another guest — a Persian cat named Child. Then I saw Frankie in his condo and gasped.
Frankie was, paws down, the most handsome cat I had ever seen. He had beautiful orange fur. His back and sides were covered with brown, leopardlike spots. He had brown, tigerlike stripes everywhere else.
I started to talk to him in a soft, quiet voice. It’s important that first meetings with cats go slowly and peacefully. I left the screen door closed too, to help him feel extra safe. I knew better than to touch a new guest too soon.
“Wow, Frankie, you’re big for a housecat,” I whispered. “You look like a small wild cat, straight from the jungle. Your eyes… they’re such a beautiful, bright green.”
“Meow,” he said.
“You’re welcome,” I said with a quiet laugh.
“Meow, meow, meow,” he said.
I laughed again. “I read in one of my cat books that you Bengals like to talk a lot.”
“Meow.” He pawed the screen
door.
“Do you want to come out to play?” I asked. “We have a super-fun indoor playground with lots of toys.”
“Meow!”
I opened the screen door and picked him up. “Your fur is so soft,” I said. “And it glitters. It looks like you’re covered with gold dust! And wow… how much do you weigh? You are a big boy, aren’t you?”
I carried Frankie over to the playground. “Look,” I said. “There are cat trees and scratching posts. Ropes and ladders to climb. A cool kitty highway by the ceiling that you can zoom around. See the kitty seesaw? And the kitty swing? You can watch all the birds you want out the big window. You can watch the chickens in the farmyard too. Or watch Cheesecake the cow in the—”
Suddenly Frankie leaped out of my arms. He landed on the counter where Grandma Kit fills dishes with cat food. Then he slid right into the washtub! It was about a quarter full of water and dirty cat-food dishes.
“Oh no!” I cried.
CHAPTER 2
A Great Fishercat
I jumped to save Frankie from the wet, dirty mess. I didn’t want him to hate his first day at Tabby Towers!
But Frankie didn’t hate falling into the washtub. He loved it! He had so much fun.
At first, he tiptoed in the water. It came up to his knees. Then he started to splash around, pawing at the dirty bowls over and over. He slapped a spoon around too.
“Oh yeah,” I said. “Now I remember. You Bengal cats love water, don’t you?”
“Meow,” Frankie said.
“You’re part Asian leopard,” I said. “I’ve read about your cousins, those leopards. They’re wild cats that like to swim. They’re great at fishing too. I bet you’re a great fishercat.”
“Meow.”
“I thought so,” I said. “You’re not much different from your great-great-great grandparents, are you? That’s so cool.”
Frankie kept swatting at the bowls and spoon as if they were fish. Then he raised a paw and turned on the faucet. What a trick! More water poured into the washtub.
“Okay, that’s enough, buddy,” I said, turning off the faucet. “You’ve already splashed water onto the floor. Guess who has to clean it up?”
“Meow?”
“That’s right,” I said. “Me.” I grinned and tickled him under his chin. “But I don’t mind. You keep on swimming and fishing. It’s fun, isn’t it?”
Then I remembered something else I’d read about Asian leopards. Fishing isn’t the only reason they go into lakes and rivers. Asian leopards dip into the water to go to the bathroom too. The water hides the smell from predators.
“Uh-oh!” I said. “Grandma Kit wouldn’t want you to do that in the washtub, Frankie. Come here, big boy.”
I grabbed a towel and picked him up. I set him on the counter and started drying him off.
Someone knocked on the Tabby Towers door, the one that led to the kitchen.
“All clear?” a voice called.
It was Alfreeda.
I groaned. I was supposed to call “all clear” to let the person entering Tabby Towers know that cats weren’t sitting near the door, ready to sneak out. Guests at Tabby Towers had to stay in the cat hotel at all times. Safety first!
I didn’t answer.
The morning was going purr-fectly so far. I just knew Alfreeda would wreck it somehow.
The door opened an inch. “Hey, Tabby Cat,” Alfreeda called. “I know you’re in there. Your grandma told me. Are you acting catty today?”
I wanted to yell, “Go away! I want Frankie all to myself!” But Grandma Kit always expected me to be nice to Alfreeda, no matter what.
The door opened another inch.
I kept rubbing Frankie with the towel. I kept my mouth shut too.
The door opened even wider.
“Come on, Tabby Cat,” Alfreeda begged. “Let’s hang out. You can come over and play catch with the dogs and me. I know cats never do anything fun. They just sleep all day.”
I opened my mouth to say, “That is not true.” But before I could say one word, Frankie sprang off the counter. He flew through the air and out the door. Right past Alfreeda’s feet.
“Catch him!” I cried.
CHAPTER 3
Furry Orange Cannonball
Alfreeda jumped backward and crashed into the refrigerator.
“What was that?” she shouted. “It looked like a furry orange cannonball!”
“It was Frankie, our new guest,” I cried, running into the kitchen. “Where did he go?”
“That way.” Alfreeda pointed at the small cat door that led to the farmyard.
“Oh no!” I said. “Why didn’t you stop him?”
“Hey, don’t blame me,” Alfreeda said.
“The only cat allowed to go outside is Scruffy,” I said, almost shouting now. Scruffy was Grandma Kit’s indoor-outdoor cat. “Why did you open the hotel door?”
“Sorry,” she said.
I pushed past her and yelled, “Grandma Kit!”
I dashed through the living room and out the front door. Mrs. Wolfe was cutting Grandma Kit’s hair in the sunshine. Mrs. Wolfe saw me and stopped cutting.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Frankie!” I cried. “He ran into the kitchen and out Scruffy’s door. He’s outside!”
Grandma Kit jumped up and threw the towel off her shoulders. She put on her glasses and rushed down the porch steps. “Oh my. Look everywhere, Tabitha. The barn, the chicken coop, the meadow… everywhere!”
“Okay!” I said.
“I’ll stay here and watch the cats in the hotel,” Mrs. Wolfe offered.
The search was on.
Grandma Kit, Alfreeda, and I looked everywhere. We called, “Here, Frankie! Come here, boy! Where are you, Frankie?”
We couldn’t find him. I’d never seen Grandma Kit look so worried.
“That poor cat could get hit by a car or truck,” she said in a shaky voice. “People drive so fast on these country roads. Or he might get in a fight with a farm dog. Or someone might find him and keep him. Bengals are such beautiful cats. They’re worth a lot of money.”
“I’m really sorry,” Alfreeda said. “I opened the door before Tabby Cat called ‘all clear.’”
“Well, all that matters now is that we find Frankie,” Grandma Kit said. “Where else can we look?”
“I know,” I said. “He might be playing in water somewhere. He loves it.”
“I’m sure he does,” Grandma Kit said. “He’s a Bengal.”
“What?” Alfreeda said with a roll of her eyes. “Cats hate getting wet.”
I didn’t have time to explain. “The ditch!” I said, running toward the road.
Grandma Kit and Alfreeda ran after me.
Smelly green water covered the bottom of the ditch. Flies buzzed. Frogs jumped. There was no sign of Frankie.
I pointed to the metal drainpipe that ran under the road. “Maybe he’s in there,” I said.
“He would not go in there,” Alfreeda said. “Cats stay away from water. And that water is really, really gross. Even a dog would keep away from it.”
“Frankie likes water, okay?” I said. “He doesn’t care what color it is or how it smells. He might be in that pipe, hiding from us. I have to look.”
“Be careful, Tabitha,” Grandma Kit said.
I moved through the tall grass and weeds to the edge of the ditch. I kneeled down and looked into the dark pipe.
“Frankie?” I called. “Are you in there?”
Frogs answered, but not Frankie.
“Do you see him?” Alfreeda asked.
“No, it’s too dark to see anything on this end,” I said. “Maybe I’ll be able to see better on the other end.”
I stood up — but I stood up too quickly. My shoe slipped. I swung
my arms in circles, trying not to fall.
It didn’t help.
I twisted and flew, face-first, toward the water. The stinky green water.
“Yiiih!” I yelled, closing my eyes.
CHAPTER 4
Stay Calm, Tabby Cat
I landed in the ditch on my hands and knees. Water splashed against my face. Mud squished between my fingers.
“Tabitha!” Grandma Kit cried. “Don’t get a drop of that water in your mouth. It could make you very sick!”
“I won’t,” I said. “Just. Get. Me. Out of here!”
“Stay calm, Tabby Cat,” Alfreeda said.
Grandma Kit reached out her hand. “You’ll be okay,” she said. “Just take my hand.”
I looked at her, but I couldn’t see her very well. “Oh! My glasses!” I cried. “They fell into the water.”
I slowly started moving my fingers over the muddy bottom of the ditch. I felt in front of me and beside me. I touched small rocks, shells, and plants. I think I even touched a soda can. My knees sank deeper into the mud. Bugs buzzed around my face and neck.
Then my fingers touched something hard and smooth. “Found them,” I said.
I pulled my glasses out of the mud, swished them in the water a bit, and stood up.
“Okay, Tabitha, now try taking my hand again,” Grandma Kit said.
I couldn’t reach. “Come closer,” I said.
“I can’t,” she said. “I’ll fall in too!”
I tried to climb up the bank. But my shoes kept slipping, and I kept sliding right back into the water.
Alfreeda carefully walked to the edge of the ditch. She stood between me and Grandma Kit. “Take my hand, Tabby Cat,” she said. “You hold my other one, Mrs. Felinus. On the count of three, Tabby, your grandma and I are going to pull you out. One… two… three!”
It worked. But boy, I sure looked and smelled horrible.
Fishing Frankie Page 1
