The Curious Cat Spy Club

by Linda Joy Singleton

  “Leo knows how to get the kittens out,” Becca says confidently.

  I’m doubtful but with three of us pushing we have a better chance of opening the lid. I ignore the stinging pain in my palms and resume the lifting position.

  But Leo comes over and nudges me out of the way. “According to my calculations, you’re doing it all wrong,” he says.

  “Oh?” I lift my brows, annoyed. “I suppose you can open it all by yourself.”

  “Actually, I can,” he says matter-of-factly. “If you’ll move aside …”

  How quickly the eager puppy turns into a bossy bulldog! His tablet sticks up from his back pocket, and I remember all the times I felt sorry for him, mumbling and tapping alone during lunch. I even considered sitting with him, asking what he’s writing. But I no longer feel guilty for ignoring him. He’s the rudest guy I’ve ever met, bossing me around while those poor kittens are running out of time.

  “Let’s all push together,” I say stubbornly. “You’re not strong enough.”

  “I’m strong of mind if not body.”

  “It’ll take brawn, not brains, to un-jam that stuck corner.” I point to the lid.

  “Criticizing me is counteractive.” Leo frowns. “I figured you were the quiet type, but clearly you talk too much. You’re wasting my time.”

  “Wasting your time!” My hands clench into fists that would love to smack the know-it-all look off his face.

  “Kelsey, give him a chance.” Becca hurries over and whispers in my ear. “He was the only one at the basketball court. He wasn’t even playing—just tapping on his tablet. He wants to help so let him.”

  Wanting and actually doing aren’t the same thing. But I won’t argue with Becca. After Leo fails miserably I’ll go find a guy with muscles.

  I expect Leo to try to lift the lid like we did. But he paces back and forth, tilting his blond head and rubbing his chin like he’s concentrating hard or hoping for chin hair. He steps away from the dumpster, bends down, and sorts through random trash. He picks up bones (chicken? steak? human?) and tosses them down, the sound brittle and sharp, startling Zed.

  “Why are you playing with bones instead of freeing the kittens?” I demand.

  “Playing?” He huffs indignantly. “I’ve evaluated the situation and am now proceeding toward a solution which requires a sturdy wedge to prop open this corner.” He gestures to the unjammed side of the lid then shoves in a small piece of wood.

  “We already tried to push that corner. It’s the other side that’s stuck. It’ll take someone really strong to lift it.” My tone clearly says, “Not you.”

  He glares at me then stomps across the alley to sort through a pile of rusty metal pipes. He chooses a long pipe, wielding it like he’s pretending to be a knight in a role playing game. Seriously? Kittens may be dying and he’s larping?

  I’ve had enough of Leo’s weirdness and turn to Becca. “Come on, we have to find someone who—”

  A sharp metallic sound stops me. I whirl around to see Leo aim the long steel pipe at the un-jammed corner of the dumpster lid. He shoves the front of the pipe into the small opening, metal grinding, so that the end of the pipe sticks up into the air over Leo’s head. Stepping back, Leo reaches high with both hands to grasp the end of the pipe. He pulls down hard with all his body weight, his feet lifting off the ground. The dumpster makes a grinding sound. Then, astonishingly, the lid pops open.

  “Basic physics,” Leo says, pulling out a handkerchief from his vest pocket and wiping his hands. “No brawn required.”

  “You did it!” Becca jumps excitedly.

  “It was a simple matter of leverage.” Leo looks directly at me. “I’m used to being underestimated.”

  “I’ve never been so glad to be wrong in my life,” I admit, rushing over to the dumpster.

  My heart thumps as I peer into the smelly pit of discarded food, papers, cartons, clothes, and plastic bags. No kittens. But they have to be here! I carefully lift gross stuff, searching desperately. Becca and Leo search too. I focus all my energy on listening, praying for a whisper of kitten mews.

  Then I hear something. It’s so faint, so feeble, that I think I’m imagining the sound. But then I hear it again.

  “Over there!” I shout, pointing to a back corner of the dumpster.

  Leo, in his nice slacks and vest, grips the edge of the dumpster and pulls himself up and then balances on his stomach, reaching over to pull out the wiggling plastic bag. He carries the bag to the ground and gently rips it open.

  Tiny balls of fur peek out.

  Three kitties … alive!

  - Chapter 3 -

  Mews and Clues

  I’m overwhelmed with joy, relief, and love. But I’m angry too—at the horrible person who trapped helpless kittens in a plastic bag then dumped them like trash.

  I reach for the orange kitty just as Becca scoops up the black kitten and Leo goes for the calico.

  “Most calico cats are females, you know,” Leo says matter-of-factly but his expression is all mushy with kitty love as he cuddles the kitten.

  “Mine is midnight black except for white feet like snowy boots. And it’s a”—Becca lifts up the kitten’s tail—“a male.”

  “Kelsey’s kitten is male too,” Leo adds without even looking.

  “How do you know?” I ask.

  “The color of a cat’s coat is determined by genes in the X chromosome. Only one in twenty-seven orange cats are female.”

  I check my kitten then grin smugly. “Not a male. Guess mine is a special one.”

  “All the kittens are special,” Becca says, quickly stepping in between us. “My little guy is so tiny he fits inside my hand. He’s not skinny so they haven’t been away from their mother long.”

  “How old do you think they are?” I ask.

  “Not very old.” When Becca bends closer to study the kitten, it paws at her dangling black curls. “About five weeks.”

  “I wonder what happened to their mother,” I say, petting the orange kitten.

  Leo shakes his head. “Nothing good.”

  “Yeah.” Becca blows out a heavy sigh. “At least the kittens are safe.”

  Safe, I think gratefully, tickling behind the kitten’s furry orange ears. I love how soft and perfect she feels in my hands; like she’s meant to be there. Purring, she rubs her silky fur against my fingers. I get this strange feeling because holding an orange kitty reminds me of my cat dream. Though this kitten isn’t as fluffy and she has a stubby tail.

  If only I could keep her …

  Swallowing hard, I look at Becca. “Our apartment doesn’t allow pets. But you live on an animal sanctuary so you can take them home.”

  I’m surprised when she shakes her head. “Mom says no more animals—especially cats since we’re already fostering six.”

  “I’m only allowed to have fish,” Leo adds, frowning. “My father suffers from pet allergies.”

  “Drats. There’s nowhere else for them to go—except the county shelter,” I say sadly. “At least the shelter will find them good homes.”

  “Um … that won’t work.” Becca shifts uneasily. “Mom volunteers for the Humane Society and says all the shelter cages are full and they’re low on funds. If animals aren’t adopted quickly, it’s a death sentence.”

  “No!” I cry, hugging the kitten closer. “I won’t let my kitten die!”

  “Me neither,” Leo says firmly.

  Becca nods, close to tears.

  We share a worried look as we each hold a kitten. We don’t know each other well, and we’re very different, but I know we’re all thinking the same thing. We have to save our kittens.

  After a long silence Becca snaps her fingers. “I have an idea.”

  “What?” Leo and I ask eagerly.

  “The Humane Society Fund-Raiser Fair is next
month. It’s fun and helps shelter animals get adopted. Afterward we’ll have room for more animals at Wild Oaks and I know Mom will let me foster the kittens. We just have to find a safe place for them until the fund-raiser.”

  “What kind of safe place?” Leo asks, rubbing his chin.

  “Well …” Becca hesitates, looking hopefully at us. “If you don’t mind mucking through mud and scratchy weeds, I know a place.”

  “Bring on the mud,” I say.

  “Weeds can’t stop me.” Leo whips his hand like he’s slicing through a jungle. “Where is it?”

  “In the woods at the back of our property, there’s an old shack—we call it the Skunk Shack because it used to quarantine sick or smelly animals. But it’s been abandoned forever.” She bites her lower lip, gazing down at the kitten she’s cuddling. “So what do you think?”

  “Sounds great! I won’t worry about the kittens if they’re with you.” I smile but inside I’m sad because I don’t want to give up my adorable orange honey. Honey, that’s what I’d name her if I could keep her. It’s only been a few minutes since we met, but I’m completely, totally in love.

  Leo is nodding too, but he looks just as sad as I feel. It must be hard to have a parent allergic to animals. At least I can hope to move to a house again where I can have pets. But poor Leo is stuck without pets until he’s an adult. And I can tell he’s in love with his calico too.

  “But I can’t do it alone,” Becca says firmly. “I need you both to help. You can start by taking the kittens to the Skunk Shack while I take Zed to the vet. Then I’ll join you there.”

  I don’t remind her that she offered to come to my house and explain how Zed ate Dad’s missing cookies. Getting the kittens to a safe place is more important. I don’t mind scrubbing toilets much anyway.

  “There’s a back gate so you can come and go without anyone knowing,” Becca adds. “We’ll have to clean the Skunk Shack and make a feeding schedule. And we’ll need kitten supplies, so we’ll need to figure out expenses. Are you okay with that?”

  I nod, willing to do anything for the kittens.

  Becca and I turn to Leo, waiting for his answer. He’s tilting his blond head, looking serious, and I think he’s going to refuse. But again I’m wrong about him.

  “Great plan. But I want to do more,” he finally says. “First I need to tell you something I’ve never told anyone else. My therapist says I need to work on my social skills, that I spend too much time sketching robot designs. I understand electronic components, wires, connectors, and motors better than people. Most kids think I’m weird or a loser.”

  Becca and I share a guilty look.

  “I’ve tried to do normal things like play soccer and baseball but I don’t work well in groups,” Leo admits, stroking his kitten’s tummy. “My team ends up hating me. But there’s one thing I’ve always wanted.”

  “What?” Becca and I ask at the same time.

  “To belong to a club,” he says. “Only nothing interested me—until now. What we’re doing here is important. We have all the elements for a club. A goal to help these kittens, three members, and a secret clubhouse.”

  “I guess we do,” Becca says, smiling. “A cat rescue club.”

  “We’ll need a better club name—but I’ll work on it,” Leo says.

  “A club would be cool,” I agree. I pause as something occurs to me. “But our goal shouldn’t only be to help our kittens.”

  “What do you mean?” Becca arches a dark brow curiously.

  “I want to find the monster that left these kittens in a dumpster to die. And I already have my first clue.” I reach for the plastic bag the kittens were trapped inside. I’d noticed something when Leo ripped into the bag. I dig inside the bag and pull out a crumpled slip of paper. “A store receipt.”

  Leo bends over for a closer look. “It’s from Dalton’s Pet Supply for $28.27 dated two days ago.”

  “Dumping animals is cruel and illegal.” I grit my teeth with determination. “I’m going to track down the horrible person who tried to kill these sweet kittens.”

  “Me too,” Leo says.

  “Me three.” Becca grins. “We’re in a club now. Let’s solve this mystery. Together.”

  - Chapter 4 -

  Shack Attack

  While Becca takes Zed to his late vet appointment, Leo and I head for the Skunk Shack.

  “Are you sure you know the way?” I ask Leo, who is holding the map Becca sketched for us. He’s taken the lead like he knows exactly where we’re going—which I seriously doubt.

  “Trust me—I’ll get us there. I don’t even need this.” He folds Becca’s map into a perfect square and tucks it into his pocket.

  “Why’d you do that? We’ll never find the shack without a map.”

  “This is more precise.” He whips a cell phone from his pocket. It looks like the latest model, sleek, silver, and small. I’m a little envious—but I don’t tell Leo.

  I shrug like a fancy phone is no big deal. “Calling someone for directions?”

  “Not necessary.” He taps a few buttons and a map flashes onto the tiny screen. “The red dot is our location and the blue dot is our destination.”

  I squint at the flashing dots. “It doesn’t look too far.”

  “According to my calculations, it’s one point six miles.”

  “Huh?” I blink. “You mean like almost two miles?”

  “Almost is not a unit of distance. And it’s closer to a mile and a half.”

  I sigh. I can deal with the long walk, but can I deal with Leo and his annoying calculations? Doubtful.

  Still, I follow.

  While Leo navigates with his phone, I carry the kittens in a sports cap from my backpack. Our tiny fur babies are so cute curled together.

  Funny how I already think of the kittens as ours. Leo’s curious green-eyed calico mews a lot; Becca’s sweet black kitten sleeps peacefully; and my darling orange Honey stares up at me with trusting golden-eyes, purring like she knows I’ll keep her safe.

  We turn on Wild Road, leaving behind city lights and traffic. Hills roll and curve and rise into towering trees. I inhale the woodsy scent of pines, enjoying the sound of wind whooshing through branches. But after about a mile of climbing uphill, I’m breathing hard and the wind stings my face.

  Finally Leo stops in front of a metal gate. “We’re here!” he announces.

  I look past the gate into a shadowy forest then point to a sign fixed on the gate. “No trespassing,” I read. An ominous shiver zaps me.

  “Becca invited us, so we aren’t trespassers. See, the gate isn’t even locked.” Leo lifts a latch and gestures for me to follow him through the gate.

  I hesitate, staring into a murky maze of trees. I don’t see any roads or buildings. What if we run into a bear or a mountain lion? What if we get lost and never find our way out? My stomach jumps nervously. I’m not so sure this is a good idea. But I remind myself I’m doing this for the kittens.

  The gate clangs shut behind us.

  Leo strides ahead, navigating with the compass app on his phone. He pushes through bushes until he finds a trail winding along a narrow stream. Although it hasn’t rained in a week, the grass is damp and my sneakers slosh in muddy weeds. Prickly bushes snag my hair and clothes as we walk deeper into the woods. The ground dips then rises, and I stumble over a rotting log.

  “Leo!” I cry out as the cap flies from my hands.

  Quick as a breath, Leo lunges and catches the cap of kittens.

  I’m not so lucky though and land smack on muddy ground. My knee stings where there’s now a hole in my favorite pair of jeans. I try to stand but slip and slide into the mud.

  “You could offer to help.” I hold up a mud-splattered hand.

  “I am helping. I saved the kittens.” Leo looks at me critically. “You’re too messy to tou
ch the kittens so I’ll carry them to the shack.”

  “Thanks,” I say, but he totally misses my sarcasm. I glare at him as I push myself out of the mud.

  He takes off in the lead again, his phone app guiding the way. We’re so deep in the woods now that trees form a leafy umbrella shutting out the sky. I tense whenever I hear rustling or fluttering in the bushes. Are wild animals lurking, ready to attack? When we step out of the trees into a marshy meadow of waving green grass, I’m so relieved.

  “According to my calculations, the shack should be here,” Leo says, gesturing to the meadow.

  I shake my head. “Well, it’s not.”

  He scrunches his forehead as he looks down at his phone. “The directional app can’t be wrong.”

  “Guess it wasn’t precise enough.” With a roll of my eyes, I pluck Becca’s map from his pocket. “I prefer a real map.”

  “Those scribbles won’t help,” Leo scoffs.

  I unfold the map. The symbols and directions are like clues and I’m good at figuring out clues in mystery novels. I trace my finger along a line. That’s the road we walked on. My finger trails to a tiny square—the gate with the no-trespassing sign. The squiggly lines must be the meadow where we’re standing right now. But what do the triangle, circle, and letter Y mean? Maybe the circle is the small pond across the meadow. Beyond it is a pointy rock—like a triangle. Above the rock is a Y-shaped tree. I stare past the tree into dense brush and see a glassy glint. A window!

  With a triumphant grin, I lead smarty-pants Leo to the Skunk Shack.

  The shack is covered in vines, cobwebs, and bird droppings. And it stinks.

  Apparently the roof is a favorite roosting spot for birds. I step in white goo and scuff my shoe to get it off but it only smears. Yuck.

  Leo sets down the sleeping kittens, carefully placing his jacket around the cap so they’ll stay warm. He rolls up his white shirt sleeves and we get to work tackling the vines. It’s like a game of tug of war. Team Kittens against the Sticky Vines. It’s a tough battle but ultimately Team Kittens triumphs.