by Carol Weston
I wish Taco Cat were here to keep me company.
Ava, Alone with a Mountain of Mice
12/30
middle of the night
Dear Diary,
I just turned on the light-up pen that Bea gave me, the one her parents sell at their bookshop. I wanted to double-check that my alarm was set for 6:45 a.m. so I could sneak down and do what I had to do.
I was also curious about how you say a “bunch of mice,” so I looked it up. Guess what? It’s a “mischief of mice”!
Ava the Mischievous
12/31
6:55 a.m.
Dear Diary,
I did it!
You know how in Goodnight Moon, there’s a mouse peeking out on every single page? That’s how it looks downstairs! There are mice everywhere! On chairs and on the sofa and bookshelf and floor and windowsill and coffee table…you name it, I put a mouse on it. I even put two in the fridge!
Now that it’s (almost) daytime, a teeny tiny part of me wonders if this whole plan is dumb. Or if Mom will get mad.
Oh well, too late!
As Dad says when he’s quoting Shakespeare, “What’s done, is done.”
In fifteen minutes, Dad and Mom will wake up and see my mischief of mice. (My mess of mice?) I put one on Dad’s desk with a note that says, “All I want for my birthday is T-A-C-O-C-A-T. I will take excellent care of him. Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease.”
The “please” might have even more e’s. I didn’t count.
I keep thinking about Taco Cat. I hope we can get him and that no one else adopts him first. I’m not too worried because Mom says kittens are more popular than cats, especially “cats with issues.” (According to Mom, mismatched ears are an “issue,” even though mismatched eyes are considered a good thing, spelled heterochromia.)
Poor Taco! He probably feels so lost and alone!
I remember once when I felt lost and alone.
I was about three, and Mom and I had gone shopping in a giant department store. I don’t know if Mom got distracted or if I did, but suddenly the high heel shoes next to me did not look familiar. I looked up, and the lady next to me was not my mother! I burst into tears. Where was my mom? Would I ever see her again??
The lady with the high heel shoes took me to a security guard and next thing you know, a loudspeaker announcement said: “Will the woman who lost her daughter please report to the information desk?” I stood there with a bunch of strangers for what felt like a really long time until finally Mom came clip clip clipping over. I guess the security people could tell by my expression that she was not a kidnapper, and Mom swooped me up and took me home.
I wish I could swoop Taco Cat up and take him home.
I’m really tired, but I’m trying to stay awake until it gets light outside. It’s already officially New Year’s Eve, which means it’s almost New Year’s Day—and my eleventh birthday! A new year and new age!
I’m practically falling asleep though. If I were a cat, I would have conked out in my food bowl.
Maybe I’ll go back to sleep for just five more minutes and get up when Mom and Dad get up.
Ava in Anticipation
12/31
New Year’s Eve Morn
Dear Diary,
I slept until 10:30! I did not mean to do that! I meant to wake up hours ago so I could see Mom and Dad’s reaction!
Not only did I oversleep, but just now, I banged my funny bone. It was not one bit funny!
Mom must already be at work. She says vets work all the time because animals get sick all the time. Dr. Gross works every day except Sunday, and even on Sunday, someone has to go to the clinic to feed and check on all the animals.
Question: Did Mom and Dad like my mice?
Bigger question: Will they let me have a cat??
Time to find out!
Ava, Awake
12/31
11:11
Dear Diary,
I opened my door and saw a trail of mice. It went all the way from my room to Dad’s desk! One little mousie after another! I figured this had to be a good sign.
“Did you find them all?” I asked Dad.
“Good morning, Sleepy Head,” he said. “Yes, I think we did.”
“Even the pair in the cheese drawer?”
“You put mice inside the fridge?”
“Just two,” I said sheepishly (but not mouseishly). “What did Mom think?”
“Actually, she thought it was funny. She knows this means a lot to you.”
“Really?”
“Really. You did a good job of expressing yourself.”
I said thanks, and Dad told me a story about when he and Mom were housesitting when they were newlyweds. They bought a little bag of fancy chocolate-covered almonds and left them on the kitchen counter. In the middle of the night, they heard a loud clattering and were afraid burglars had broken in. So they went downstairs and turned on the lights. No one was there, but the bag of chocolates was empty, and on the kitchen floor, they saw itty-bitty mouse droppings! The cat burglars were…a mischief of mice!
I laughed and planned to tell that story to Chuck in school. He is pretty much the only fifth-grade boy I talk to, and we like to make each other laugh. I’ve known him even longer than I’ve known Maybelle, because in kindergarten we sat next to each other on the bus on an apple-picking field trip.
“So can I get Taco Cat for my birthday?” I asked Dad straight out.
Dad pushed back his big brown chair and did not say no. He said, “Want to run some errands? You and Pip went through a lot of paper last night.”
I said, “Sorry,” even though I could tell Dad wasn’t mad. He likes it when Pip and I do “creative projects” together.
“What do you think: Great Wall or Taco Time?” Dad asked.
“Taco Time! Should I wake up Pip?”
“At your own risk,” Dad said because lately Pip has been waking up grumpy. I took the stairs two at a time, and with each giant step, I could feel myself coming up with a brand-new plan.
“Pip!” I said, knocking and barging in at the same time. “Get up!” I started talking a mile a minute.
Pip opened her eyes and listened. “It’ll never work,” she said, sounding like the big brother in The Carrot Seed. The one who doesn’t believe in his little brother’s little seed and says, “It won’t come up.”
“You should be more optimistic,” I said.
“You should be less annoying,” she said.
But here’s the thing: she’s getting dressed, so I think she is willing to give my plan a try.
Ava, Full of Plans
12/31
1:30 p.m.
at the Rescue Center!
Dear Diary,
At Taco Time, Dad asked if I knew how to spell “quesadilla” and “guacamole.” I spelled both words, no peeking and no problema. So far in fifth grade, I’ve gotten nothing but 100s on all my spelling tests. English is by far my best subject. (I stink at math, which is Maybelle’s best subject, and I’m only okay at gym, which is Chuck’s best subject.)
After lunch, Pip told Dad that we wanted to take him “on a field trip.” Dad looked suspicious, and I stayed quiet (M-U-M). Pip was saying everything exactly as we’d planned. “The rescue center is really nearby,” she casually remarked.
“The rescue center?” Dad made a face, then said, “Oh, why not?”
Pip gave me a little kick under the table, so I gave her a little kick back. We both know that deep down, Dad is a mushball when it comes to us kids. And deep down, maybe he likes cats as much as we do.
While we were walking the three blocks, Dad started rambling about how writers and cats are natural companions. He said that James Joyce wrote about cats, and so did Charles Dickens and Mark Twain. He said Ernest Hemingway left money in his will for his cats in Key West, Florida
, “and some were polydactyl.”
“Polywhat?” I said.
“Polydactyl. It means having extra toes.” Dad said that most cats have five toes on their front feet and four on their back, but “mitten kittens” are born with extras.
“H-U-H,” I said, because our family likes spelling out palindromes. I was trying to picture “mitten kittens” and trying to picture myself as a famous writer known for her children’s books and her faithful furry feline friend, Taco.
“T. S. Eliot,” Dad added, “wrote cat poems that got turned into the Broadway musical.”
“Cats,” Pip said.
I thought about T. S. Eliot and said, “If you take the S away, his name backward is T O I L E T.”
Dad laughed. Pip said, “Dad, it’s mostly your fault we’re word nerds!” (which is true, even though Mom must have agreed to name us P-I-P H-A-N-N-A-H and A-V-A E-L-L-E).
Anyway, we’re now at the rescue center. Ponytail Lady said that before we could go upstairs, Dad had to fill out a form. So when Dad started writing, I did too.
Gotta go! Here comes Nostril Ring Lady!
Ava, About to See Animals
12/31
an hour later
Dear Diary,
Nostril Ring Lady escorted us upstairs, past the barking dogs, and into the cat rooms. Then the short lady with the long braid came in and said, “I remember you girls!” I asked if our cat was still there, and she winked and said, “He’s been asking about you.” She was carrying a cage with a kindle of kittens.
Dad and Pip and I stayed in the room with the older cats, and at first, I didn’t see Taco anywhere. I looked and looked, but…no Taco. What if she was wrong? What if someone had adopted my yellow tabby? We kept searching and searching.
Suddenly I noticed a cage on the floor in the corner. And there he was! I saw his green eyes and taco-colored fur and jagged ear and white leg and little zigzag. He was looking right at me! It was like he was waiting—just waiting—for me to recognize him. Our eyes met and my heart melted!
I sat on the floor, put my face near his cage, reached in, and tried to pet him with my fingertips. He seemed nervous and was still skinny, but not as skinny as when I first saw him.
“Dad,” I said. “I found him! He neeeeeeds us.” I reminded Dad for the quintillionth time that Taco was all I wanted for my birthday—and that my birthday was tomorrow.
Pip said, “Dad, let’s just do it. Let’s get him!”
“We have to talk to Mom,” Dad said, which meant he was at least considering it. Then he looked into Taco’s big sad eyes and whispered, “Buddy, this might be your lucky day.”
Ava, Full of Hope
12/31
4:25 p.m.
in our car
Dear Diary,
Believe it or not, we are in the car outside Dr. Gross’s clinic waiting for Mom! She’s getting off early because it’s New Year’s Eve. When she walks out, Dad and Pip and I are going to surprise her and drive her straight to the rescue center!
In my almost eleven years in Misty Oaks, I’d never once been to the rescue center, but this will be my second time today and my third time this week!
Dad said not to get our hopes up, but of course our hopes are up. Mine are sky-high! They are as high as Mount Everest, which Maybelle once said is over 29,000 feet high and the highest mountain in the world.
While we sat in the car, Dad told us that Mom is the only person in Dr. Gross’s practice who doesn’t have a pet. I knew that Dr. Gross has a dog named Cowboy, and the front desk lady and her partner have three cats (one has just one eye), and one of the technicians has a ferret, and another has a canary, but I did not know that everybody has a pet except Mom.
Right now, Pip and I are in the backseat, and while I’m writing, Pip is illustrating my H poem:
H is for hammerhead shark.
The great hammerhead shark is a scary beast.
If it saw you at sea, it would think: What a feast!
It is almost 4:30 p.m.
In seven and a half hours, at midnight, I will be eleven.
In one hour, will I have a cat?
Gotta go! Here comes Mom!!
Ava with Fingers Crossed
New Year’s Eve Night
Dear Diary,
Mom said yes!!!
I have a cat!!!
His name is Taco!!!
Ava
1/1
my birthday night
Dear Diary,
Last night, I woke up and it was pitch black outside. I wasn’t sure if the glittery Times Square ball had or hadn’t dropped, or if it was or wasn’t my birthday. Was it a new year? Was I a new age: 11 on 1/1?
All I knew for sure was that Taco was 100 percent mine!
I have a pet cat!!!
We brought him home in a cat carrier, but Mom said we had to keep him in the bathroom the first night. That didn’t seem very welcoming, but Mom said that when a cat is not “accustomed to a new environment,” it’s best to take things slowly, and that Taco would feel safest in a “small, confined space.” I was so glad we’d actually adopted him—and bought canned food and pet bowls and kitty litter—that I didn’t object.
Right before I went upstairs, I told Taco that he was the best birthday present in the whole wide world. He still seemed scared (skittish?), so I didn’t pick him up, but I petted him and told him I’d be back first thing in the morning.
Well, this morning, he was curled up on the bathmat. He’d eaten some food and used his litter box and even covered his P-O-O-P with sand, which cats do. Mom said these were all “good signs.” She showed me how to scoop out his dried doodies and shake off the sand and flush the P-O-O-P down the toilet. I told Pip it reminded me of the game we used to play by Nana Ethel’s creek called “Panning for Gold.” Pip said I was crazy, but I knew she remembered Panning for Gold as well as I did. (I like that we have a lot of the same memories.)
Anyway, Mom and Dad had said they’d take me and my friends out for pizza for my birthday, but I didn’t want to leave Taco alone that long. So I called Maybelle and Bea and Carmen and Lucia and invited them to come here instead.
Bea and Ben had just gotten back from vacation, and she said she’d be right over. She’s two years older than me, but we became friends last fall. That’s when she and I came up with the five Pip Pointers to help Pip shake off her shyness.
Well, everyone got to meet my new cat—but not in the way I was hoping.
I’d pictured Taco taking turns climbing onto their laps, purring and kneading. Kneading is what cats do when they press their little paws against you one at a time, left and right, right and left. Mom said that newborn kittens knead and purr when they nurse because that’s how they tell their mother to stay still. Grown cats knead and purr mostly when they are relaxed and happy.
Taco did not knead or purr at all.
What happened was this: We all stood by the bathroom door. Bea and Pip were on tiptoe, Maybelle and I were in the middle, and the twins were crouching down (dressed in matching yellow). The plan was for me to open the door a crack so everyone could peek at Taco, asleep on the bathmat. I did—but Taco dashed out! He made a beeline (cat line?) for the sofa! And he’s been hiding underneath it ever since!
All anyone saw was a flash of fur!
Before I could stop them, Carmen and Lucia raced after him and got on their stomachs and started groping under the sofa. Not only did Taco not come out, he hissed at them! He even grumble-growled! It was a strange, low, unhappy sound.
Mom said we needed to let him get comfortable on his own terms. She also said that adult cats don’t meow to other cats, they meow only to people, usually to “ask for food or water or space.”
Well, we let Taco have some space while I opened birthday presents. Maybelle gave me a rainbow-colored beaded bracelet that she’d made just
for me. The twins gave me a gold picture frame (which I like) and a fuzzy pink jewelry box (which I don’t). Bea gave me a book of funny cat photographs from her parents’ shop. Pip gave me a scarf. And everyone sang, “Happy Birthday!” and ate pizza and cake.
Now that I’m eleven, I wonder if I seem a lot older than the twins, who are in fourth grade. I also wonder if I seem a lot younger than Bea and Pip, who are in seventh. Am I growing up at the right speed?
I can hardly believe I’m eleven. I won’t be a palindrome age again until I’m twenty-two!
Ava Wren, Birthday Girl
1/2 (which looks like one-half
but means January 2)
Saturday 11:30 a.m.
Dear Diary,
This morning Pip and I were playing Battleship. I was trying to locate her submarine and said, “B-7?”
She said, “BELIEVE.”
I said, “BEWARE!”
She said, “BEHOLD!”
I said, “BEHAVE!”
She said, “BEEHIVE!”
We both laughed, and she said, “Ava, come with me to Bates Books.”
I said I wanted to stay with Taco. But Pip pleaded—and even offered me a pack of bubblemint gum. I knew she was hoping to run into Ben since Bea and Ben’s parents own the bookstore and Pip hadn’t seen him since vacation started. Finally I said okay—if we made it quick.
We bundled up and off we went, but Ben wasn’t there and neither was Bea. Their fluffy orange and white cat, Meow Meow, was, and he rubbed against us, his tail high in the air. He is as sweet as a…Creamsicle!
Guess who else was there? Chuck! He looked different because he’d gotten a haircut and maybe gotten a little taller since last week? (Is that possible?) He also had a Band-Aid under his chin—the tan kind, not the cartoon character kind.
