by Tom Watson
“Where are what?”
“The parachutes.”
Edith continued to move in that slow, purposeful way. She took three steps away from the sink, reached below the counter, and pulled a small drawer open. “They’re right here,” she said. “That’s the reason—the only reason—I came up on the counter.”
Stick Cat needed to keep things moving. He said, “Great! Let’s see them.”
And with that Edith reached into that small drawer and pulled out two square pieces of cloth. She dropped them down to the kitchen floor.
“Those are, umm, napkins,” Stick Cat said.
“They are napkins if you wipe your face with them,” Edith said. She hopped down from the counter. “They’re parachutes if you hold them above your head and jump out the window.”
Stick Cat tilted his head just a bit. He stared at Edith. She sensed his confusion and tried to explain things more clearly to him.
“I think the trick,” Edith said, “is to catch some air beneath the parachute before you jump.”
“How do you do that?” Stick Cat asked. He didn’t think the napkin would work as a parachute. In fact, he was absolutely positive about it. But he thought it would be polite to listen.
“It’s simple, really,” answered Edith. She sounded completely sure of herself. “You hold a corner in one paw and then sort of toss it gently over to the other paw.”
She demonstrated this technique a few times. The napkin did actually catch a little air beneath it.
“As soon as you catch that other end,” Edith went on, “you jump. As you fall, even more air gets trapped and you settle—ever so gently—to the ground.”
“Umm,” Stick Cat said. He could truly think of nothing else to say.
“Here, let’s test it,” Edith said with casual confidence. There was no doubt in her mind whatsoever. She picked up one of the napkins with her mouth and padded briskly to the living room.
Stick Cat held his position there in the kitchen for several seconds. He looked down at the remaining napkin on the floor. Did Edith really think these flimsy squares of material could somehow suspend them in the air as they floated across the alley to help Hazel? The whole notion—the whole idea—was preposterous. He knew that they were way too heavy. He knew they would instantly plummet to the alley twenty-three floors below.
Stick Cat reached down and picked up the napkin. He hustled out to the living room to catch up to Edith. He figured she was up on the couch preparing to test her parachute theory.
When he exited the kitchen and entered the living room, he could see Edith clearly.
She wasn’t on the couch.
The window was wide open. She was outside on the fire escape railing. She balanced there on her hind legs.
She bent her rear legs a bit and looked back over her shoulder at Stick Cat. She held a corner of the napkin in one paw and flicked it up into the air. She called just one thing to him.
“Watch this!”
And then Edith jumped.
Chapter 9
ZIPPING
You would think that Stick Cat would rush to the window, right?
He didn’t.
He knew Edith was gone.
A flood of sadness washed over him. He remembered the first day they met—the exact moment their scratching had finally made a hole in the wall. He could see Edith’s face through that hole—the fluffiness of her, the bow in her fur. He knew at that first moment they would become true friends. He wouldn’t be alone all day when Goose went to work. He’d share each of those days with Edith.
But not anymore.
He hung his head.
For six seconds.
That’s when Edith’s voice came pouring through the open window.
“I told you it would work, Stick Cat!”
Stick Cat jerked his head up and sprang across the living room in two great, joyous bounds. He jumped to the windowsill.
Edith was halfway across the alley. The napkin-parachute was working.
Sort of.
Edith turned her head over her shoulder, saw Stick Cat on the windowsill of her apartment, and yelled again, “I told you!”
Do you know what zip lines are? They are these cool things that hold you suspended in the air while you zoom across a line from a higher elevation to a lower one. Stick Cat had never heard of zip lines, but he could certainly see how one worked. He watched Edith slide along the thick black cable across the alley to Hazel’s window ledge.
It took Stick Cat just a few seconds to figure out what had happened.
As she had prepared to jump from the fire escape railing, Edith had held on to one corner of the napkin and flicked it to her other paw to get some air under it—just like she had demonstrated in the kitchen.
When she did, the napkin looped over the single black cable that ran across the alley. She jumped and glided down the cable—like on a zip line.
Stick Cat stared at her in amazement.
Edith swung her paws from side to side, reveling in the thrill of the experience.
Stick Cat watched as she landed on the windowsill across the alley—one floor below where he stood. When she got there, she released the napkin, stretched her arms a bit, and turned to stare at him.
“Come on!” she called, and waved. “It’s a blast!”
Stick Cat looked down.
Twenty-three floors down.
“What are you waiting for?!” Edith called.
He hopped off the windowsill, retrieved his own napkin, and came back.
Edith saw him return and yelled across again. “You’re going to love it! It’s absolutely to die for!”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” whispered Stick Cat.
“What?” called Edith across the alley. “Did you say something?”
“No. Nothing,” Stick Cat answered.
Sorry. Need to pause here. I know it’s a suspenseful part of the story and everything. I want to see if Stick Cat makes it across too. But we need to talk about this for a minute.
You know not to try your own homemade zip-line experiment, right? I mean, don’t tie something to your bedpost on the second floor of your house and then tie the other end to your mailbox. Don’t try to slide from your window down to the ground.
It totally won’t work.
You’re too heavy. You’d crash.
So no do-it-yourself zip-lining, okay?
Cool. Thanks.
Now let’s see if Stick Cat gets across the alley.
He took his napkin and tossed one end up and over the thick black cable. Stick Cat clenched both ends, sticking his claws into the material. He thought if the napkin was strong enough to hold Edith, then it would be strong enough to hold him. He, of course, didn’t mention this thought to Edith.
“Let’s go already!” called Edith.
Stick Cat double-checked his grip on the napkin, looked across the alley—and pushed off the window ledge with all the strength he had in his back legs. He kept his eyes fixed on Edith, refusing to glance down.
“Look down!” called Edith. “It’s totally awesome!”
Stick Cat stared at Edith.
“Not at me! Down!”
He was not going to look down.
“Down!”
Stick Cat got closer. He was more than halfway across now. The wind rushed past his face. His claws were firmly set. The material didn’t rip at all. He began to feel confident—not comfortable, but confident—that he would make it. He and Edith could try to help Hazel. His confidence grew as each second passed and his remaining journey got shorter and shorter.
Until he stopped.
He was still at least thirty feet from Edith. He swayed a little but didn’t move forward at all.
“Stick Cat?” Edith asked. She didn’t need to speak as loudly now.
“Y-yes?” There was a slight quiver in his voice.
“Why’d you stop?”
“I didn’t s-stop on purpose.”
“I wish I could have stopped,” Edith
said. There was genuine regret in her voice. “It’s so fun out there, isn’t it?”
“F-fun isn’t quite the w-word I would use.”
“You’re talking funny,” Edith said. “You sound all shaky or something. Are you cold?”
“Umm, n-no.”
Stick Cat shifted his weight a little left and right in an attempt to get moving again.
It didn’t work.
Edith lay down on the window ledge. You could tell she thought this might be a while. Her tail and one leg drooped over the side and dangled in the air. She didn’t seem to notice at all.
“How long are you going to be, Stick Cat?”
He swayed a little harder but moved forward only an inch or two. “Hopefully, n-not too l-long,” he answered.
“Why are you shifting around like that?”
“I’m trying t-to get m-moving again,” he said. His arms and shoulders were growing sore and tired. He didn’t know how much longer he could hold on.
“Oh.”
Stick Cat closed his eyes, trying to gather his energy and strengthen his stamina. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes, ready to start scooching forward a few inches at a time again.
But when he opened his eyes, Stick Cat saw something he didn’t want to see at all. Edith was up now and reaching toward the cable.
“What are you doing?!” he asked quickly.
“Just going to help,” Edith said casually, and grasped the black cable in her front paws. “Speed this along a bit.”
Before Stick Cat could shout “No!” Edith began to shake the cable with all her might, yanking and jerking it in every direction she could.
Instantly, Stick Cat began to swish and swing about. His back legs and feet shot out wildly in every direction. His torso whipped one way while his hips thrashed another way. He twisted and turned. He shook and shimmied.
But two very important things didn’t change position at all.
His front paws.
His claws dug into that material. His grip never loosened.
And he started to move.
He began to slide toward Edith again. She saw this movement, ceased yanking on the cable, and nodded her head—more to herself in satisfaction than anything else. She plopped casually back down on the concrete ledge and waited for Stick Cat to slide the rest of the way to the building.
It took just thirteen seconds for him to make it. He stretched his back paws onto the ledge, released the napkin with his front paws, and lurched toward the building. Stick Cat clung to it with all his remaining strength. The wall was made of bricks and concrete and he dug his front claws into the rough cracks and crevices.
Stick Cat pressed his face and body against the building.
“Stick Cat?”
“Y-yes.”
“Why are you hugging the building?”
Stick Cat didn’t answer. He tried to catch his breath.
Edith asked another question. There was a hint of mischief in her voice. “Are you in love with the building, Stick Cat? Do you want to marry it?”
“I’m just happy to be here,” Stick Cat whispered. “I couldn’t wait to get over here.”
Edith smiled. “That’s so nice of you to say, Stick Cat. That you wanted to be with me so much and all. It’s very sweet of you.”
Stick Cat slowly turned his head ever so slightly over his shoulder and looked at Edith lying on the ledge. About one-third of her body dangled over the edge.
“Let’s get inside,” he said to Edith.
“Not yet, Stick Cat.”
“Why not?”
Edith lifted her chin from the concrete ledge and gazed at Stick Cat. She closed her eyes briefly and then opened them slowly. “Because,” she finally explained. “You haven’t thanked me yet, that’s why.”
“Thanked you for what?”
“For helping you slide the rest of the way on the cable, that’s what.”
Stick Cat turned his head and faced the building again. He really, really, really wanted to get inside. “You mean thank you for jerking that cable so that my entire body flailed around in the air twenty-three floors above the alley?”
“That’s right.”
“Thank you, Edith,” Stick Cat said. “Now let’s get inside.”
“Not yet.”
“Why not?” Stick Cat asked, and glanced back at Edith again.
She stared wide-eyed at him.
“I think you should acknowledge that my brilliant parachute idea worked to absolute perfection.”
“‘Absolute perfection’?”
“That’s right.”
Now, Stick Cat knew the napkin had not worked in the way Edith intended at all. But it was not the time—and this was definitely not the place—to point out this fact. He wanted to get off that ledge. So Stick Cat said simply and quietly, “It was an amazing idea, Edith.”
“Thank you,” Edith answered, and stood up. “I thought so too.”
With that, she hopped through the open window.
And Stick Cat followed her.
Chapter 10
EDITH’S FEMININE FELINE FIGURE
Stick Cat raced across the large open room to the huge pot. He passed Edith in the center of the room. She spun slowly as she scanned the surrounding area. Stick Cat heard Edith talk to herself.
“Lox, lox,” she whispered. “Where would the lox be?”
Stick Cat paid no attention to Edith and hurried straight to the ladder. It felt so good to have the solid floor beneath his paws.
He climbed the ladder quickly. As he did he felt the wet coffee on his paw pads. It was slippery on that smooth metal step and he understood how Hazel had fallen in.
When he reached the top of the ladder, Stick Cat looked down into the pot.
Hazel was shoulder-deep in thick bagel batter. She had splotches of it in her hair and on her arms. Hazel’s fingers were wrapped around the rim of the pot.
She stared up at Stick Cat.
“I need help,” Hazel said. “I need help, little kitty.”
Stick Cat leaned his head down, rubbed his cheek across Hazel’s knuckles, and then turned to Edith.
“Over here, Edith!” he called.
Edith was still turning slowly in the middle of the room. She called back, “Did you find some lox over there?”
Stick Cat glanced down at Hazel one more time and then stepped back down the ladder.
“No,” he said when he reached the floor. “I found Hazel. She’s in the pot. She’s stuck. We have to help her!”
“Does she have any lox with her?”
Stick Cat didn’t answer Edith’s inquiry for several seconds. He dropped his head and stared at the floor. He contemplated his response.
“Well, does she?”
Stick Cat lifted his head and answered, “She doesn’t have any lox with her right now,” he said. “But if we help her escape from that pot, maybe she’ll reward us with some lox.”
“A reward of lox, hunh?”
“Maybe,” Stick Cat suggested.
Edith thought about this idea for almost a full minute. She tilted her head in consideration. When she did, she noticed a shiny, silver refrigerator against the wall and began to use it like a mirror. She licked the back of her left front paw, smoothed her fur, and examined her reflection. She did this three times and was still not satisfied with her appearance.
While Edith groomed herself, Stick Cat looked back and forth between her and Hazel’s frail hands clinging to the rim of the pot. Edith began to lick her paw a fourth time when Stick Cat spoke.
“Edith?”
“Yes?” she answered, and turned to him. She didn’t appear to appreciate having her grooming interrupted. “What is it now, Stick Cat?”
“The lox reward,” Stick Cat said. “Will you help me get Hazel out of the pot? There might be a lox reward.”
Edith turned away from him then, checked her reflection, and drew her paw across her brow.
“Lox are delicious, right?” Stick Cat
added.
This might have been the final bit of urging Edith needed. She turned to Stick Cat and said, “Oh, very well. We’re here anyway. But there better be some lox at the end of all this, buster.”
“Great!” Stick Cat said quickly. “Now we just have to figure out how to get her out.”
“Oh, that’s no big deal,” Edith said matter-of-factly.
“It’s not?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I already know how to get her out, that’s why.”
“How?!” Stick Cat asked quickly. He was happy that Edith had a plan. He wanted to help Hazel as soon as possible.
“It’s perfectly obvious,” Edith said. She began to walk toward the ladder. “The pot is full of bagel batter, right?”
Stick Cat followed after her. “Right.”
Edith began to climb the ladder. At the second step she glanced back over her shoulder and said, “We eat her way out.”
“‘Eat her way out’?”
“That’s right,” confirmed Edith. She reached the top of the ladder and looked down at Hazel. Changing the subject, Edith said, “You’re right, Stick Cat. She’s not scuba diving, after all.”
Stick Cat ignored that comment and instead asked, “What do you mean, ‘eat her way out’?”
Edith sat on the top step of the ladder. She put her front paws on her hips and said, “It’s food, Stick Cat, food. We jump in and chow down. We keep eating the bagel batter until it gets low enough that Hazel won’t be stuck any longer. She can just climb out.”
Stick Cat stopped midstride right then, his front left paw suspended in the air. He couldn’t believe what he just heard.
“Edith,” he said. “It would take us years to eat that much food.”
“You think so?”
“I know so.”
Edith looked back into the pot. “I’m not so sure about that, Stick Cat,” she replied. “I have a pretty healthy appetite. It’s truly amazing when I think about it. I mean, how can I eat so much and still maintain my feminine feline figure? It’s remarkable really.”
