by Bill Wallace
There was a big, wide street in front of Luigi’s. Car-things zoomed and whizzed past. One extra large car-thing, with a box on the back, whooshed so close that the wind from it ruffled my fur. Across the wide street was the shopping mall. But on either side and behind that were houses. Row after row of houses. Some had yards with fences. Others had no fence at all. It was hard to tell which ones were which because the car-things zipped by so thick that they kept blocking my view.
Still, there were bound to be pets there. Some of the people just had to have cats. With that many houses there were probably a world of cats to play with over there.
I waited. Watched both directions. Waited more.
For a moment, there were no car-things in front of me. The road was a wide, empty field of flat gray.
I stepped from the curb.
CHAPTER 12
Panting and gasping for air, I crouched beneath a bush at the side of Luigi’s Restaurant. The car-thing had come out of nowhere. Like a streak of lightning—it appeared, then was gone.
Louie had saved me.
I had just stepped from the curb when a vision of him flashed through my mind’s eye. I saw him all smushed at the side of the road. I saw him just as Tom and I had found him. The memory hurt my insides. It made me feel sad and lonely. But mostly, it made me step back.
The instant I stepped to the curb—that’s when the car-thing came tearing past.
If there were cats at the houses on the far side of the busy road, I would never know. They couldn’t be my friends. I would never ever go near the big street again—no matter how badly I wanted a friend.
• • •
I spent the next week beneath the rosebush at the front of our house. People came. None were Tom’s people, though. They walked inside and looked around. Then they went away. More people-things came, but it was always the same. I heard crows caw from Farmer McVee’s pecan trees. I ignored them. I went to Luigi’s, only I always came straight home. I purred and sat in the Mama’s lap in the evenings. She petted me, but only for a little while. Then she would shove me aside and work on her knitting. Mostly, I sat under the rosebush and just felt sorry for myself.
• • •
Then the most marvelous thing happened!
• • •
One morning, a car-thing pulled into Tom’s driveway. A man-people and a woman-people got out. A moment later, a big car-thing with a box on the back stopped next to the curb. It had lots and lots of wheels. Men in light brown shirts and light brown pants got out of the big car-thing. Eyes wide and excited, I stood up. The men opened the back of the box and went inside. They began carrying boxes toward Tom’s house. The man and woman opened the back of their car-thing. Even from where I stood under my rose-bush, I could hear them grunting and struggling with something. With one final groan, the man lifted and turned.
That’s when I saw them!
Shiny, slick boxes. The man and woman each had one. Not rough, brown boxes like the men carried. These boxes were smooth and gray. They had bars on the front. They were just like Tom’s box. Almost exactly the same, only bigger.
I trotted to the middle of my yard. They carried the gray boxes to the garage. The place where Tom’s Pat put him when he was in the gray box. I stretched my neck one way, then the other, trying to see who was inside. I knew it wasn’t Tom. He would never leave his Pat or the Daddy. But maybe a new cat. Maybe two—maybe two new friends. The people were in the way. The men in the brown shirts put a couch between me and the garage.
I ran to the curb.
For a second, I could almost see. The boxes were in the middle of the garage instead of at the edge. Still, in the dim light I could almost make out fur and legs and . . .
The man-people closed the garage door.
As soon as they went to the house, I looked both ways, then sprinted across the street. I sniffed, but with all the oil and gas smell near the garage, I couldn’t smell cat. I perked my pointed ears. No sounds came from inside.
I meowed. Again and again, I called to see if a cat would answer. With all the commotion—the men talking and clunking boxes around, feet pounding on the ground, the shrill scraping of table legs and chairs on the concrete—I guess the cats in the boxes couldn’t hear me.
I was so excited I could hardly stand it.
My legs gobbled up the ground as I raced to climb the gate at the back of the house. The little door behind the garage was closed. I called and meowed again.
Still nothing.
For a good thirty minutes, I raced back and forth between the big door at the front and the little door at the back. The men kept carrying boxes and furniture inside or placing it on the lawn. But I knew that sooner or later they would finish. When they did, the man or the woman would open the door to the garage. They would let the cats out. I could hardly wait to meet them.
• • •
It seemed like I waited forever. I lay on a low branch of the pecan tree. That’s where they would come. A tree would be the first place they would go when their people finally let them out. I washed my face. I combed my whiskers. I had to look my best when I met my new friends.
It was late afternoon when I heard the sound at the back door. I jumped to my feet. The lock on the door clicked. I sucked my tummy in. The handle on the door turned. I held my shoulders back, proud and handsome. The door opened. I smiled.
Like a streak, something burst from the half-open door. Two animals raced across the yard to the base of the tree—just like I knew they would.
When they stopped, my mouth flopped open. My shoulders drooped. My heart sank so low, it seemed to slither clear down to my claws and ooze out into the pecan tree.
“Hey, look what we got here.” The fuzzy pink one smiled up at me.
“Yeah,” the fuzzy white one said. “You talk about a neat housewarming gift. We got our very own kitty-cat.” He licked his lips. “He looks kind of familiar, don’t he?”
The pink—I mean, apricot one frowned. “Isn’t this one of the guys who sat on the fence at the football field and made fun of our haircuts?”
The white one nodded. “Yeah. Told us that we looked like we were wearing a dress. Called us tutu-butt, didn’t he?”
The two poodles began to circle the tree. They both looked up at me and licked their lips. “Come on down and play,” they laughed. “Yeah. Here, Kitty, Kitty, Kitty.”
CHAPTER 13
The poodles circled the tree. They laughed and taunted, trying to get me to come down. Rocky leaped and barked his threats when I crossed above his yard. The Rotten Willy smiled up from where he lay in front of his doghouse. There was a little gap in the double gate at the far side of his yard. It was too far! I could never outrun the huge beast. My only chance was that the poodles would go inside at supper time.
They didn’t.
I watched from Tom’s tree when the woman-people brought their food. I called to her—begged for help. She didn’t listen. Even when she put their food bowls on the ground, they wouldn’t leave. First the apricot one went to eat while the white one stood watch beneath the tree. As soon as he finished he returned, and the white poodle ate while he stood guard.
I cried and meowed when I heard my Mama’s car drive into our yard. She never heard me.
The night was crisp and cold. The sky was clear and there was no wind. I curled as tight as I could into the crook of the pecan tree. I shivered and wished I was home.
The next morning I crossed over Rocky’s yard and sat in Rotten Willy’s tree. I studied the crack in the gate. I crouched. Wiggled my back end. Then, I stopped and slumped on the branch. It was just too far.
That afternoon, the poodles ate outside again. Rocky ate outside, too. He sat on the far side of his food bowl and never took his eyes off me. Then I heard the door open at Rotten Willy’s house.
“Help me!” I screamed, as desperate and frantic as I could. “Please help me!”
The woman-people put Rotten Willy’s bowl down next to his doghouse
. She patted him on the head and looked straight up at me.
She saw me! How wonderful!
“Help! Help!” I called. “The dogs have me trapped in the trees. Get me down. I’m thirsty and hungry and I want to go home. Help!”
The woman-people smiled. “Looks like you’ve got a new friend, Willy,” she said. “I didn’t know the neighbors had a cat.” She rubbed Rotten Willy behind his ears and stood up. “You play nice with the little kitty, you hear me?”
My eyes flashed wide open when she turned.
“No! Don’t leave! Don’t go back inside. Help me. Help me!”
Then . . . she was gone.
Rotten Willy took a bite of his food. He opened his huge jaws to take another bite, then he stopped and looked up.
“You can have some of my food,” he offered. “It’s good. It’s nice and warm, too.”
My rough, dry tongue made my lips tingle as it traced a slow circle around my mouth. Then my eyes squinted tight. Just how stupid did this dog think I was?
• • •
The second night was worse than the first. It was colder, and the wind began to blow. From Tom’s tree I watched the big, puffy, gray clouds. Us cats hate rain and snow. It makes us wet, and wet fur is no fun. Still, I wished it would rain. I even hoped the snow would fall. If it did, at least I could get a drink. I was dying for a drink.
• • •
Early the next morning, my Mama came hunting for me. I could hear her calling my name as she moved all around our house, then through the front yards on this side of the block. Hard as I tried, I couldn’t answer. My mouth was so dry, I couldn’t even meow. Despite the wind that made the limbs rock and shake, I made my way over Rocky’s yard. The poodles smiled up at me. They licked their lips and called: “Here, Kitty, Kitty.”
Rocky leaped and barked when I crossed over his yard. My legs were weak and shaky. I almost missed the jump.
Gasping and trembling all over, I stood on the branch for a long, long time before I could go on. I was so thirsty and hungry that my paws didn’t feel right. They wobbled and shook with each step. I moved carefully. Easy—one paw in front of the other.
Just as I made it to the place where the limb joined the trunk of Rotten Willy’s tree, I stopped. My pointed ears perked up. My whiskers and tail, both drooping low with my misery, sprang straight.
That’s when I saw it.
Far out on the tree—almost to the alley—a limb hung low. It swayed and bobbed up and down with the push of the wind. As it went down, it almost touched the wooden fence between Rocky’s yard and Rotten Willy’s. I frowned, studying it for a long, long time. The top of the fence was narrow. It would be like walking a tightrope.
Maybe late in the evening, the wind would stop.
• • •
It was almost dark when the wind finally settled. It never stopped. The limb I watched never quit bobbing up and down. Still it was calmer than during the day. Night would provide good cover. If I did slip, maybe Rocky and Rotten Willy wouldn’t see.
It was my last chance. My only hope.
I scampered for it.
Okay—I didn’t scamper. My insides told me to scamper, but I was so weak it took me forever to stagger to the limb. It took even longer to ease my way out onto the swaying branch.
My weight pushed it down—only not quite close enough for it to touch the fence. I reached out a paw. I felt the wood, then the wind lifted me. When the limb dipped low again, I reached farther.
This time it held. I put my front paw on the top of the fence. My legs shook beneath me. I put my other paw on it. As my weight came off the branch, it began to rise.
I couldn’t turn back!
I had to go!
The instant my hind feet left the limb, it sprang back up and bobbed in the wind. Trembling, I managed to balance on top of the fence.
An inch at a time—one wobbly, shaky paw after the other—I moved atop the narrow wood rail. It wasn’t much farther. Just a few more steps and . . .
WHAM!
The wood boards shook beneath my paws. Frantic, frightened eyes looked down. Rocky leaped against the fence.
WHAM!
My hind legs slipped from under me. Claws sprang out. Desperately, I grabbed hold of the wood. For only an instant, I dangled there—right over Rotten Willy’s yard. If I could just pull myself back up. If I could just . . .
WHAM!
I fell.
The world spun for a moment. Paws, claws, tail—all spinning, all trying to grab something, anything. Then I hit the ground. The world spun again. Only this time the spinning was inside my head.
Run! Move! a voice screamed inside me. Get up! Get away!
It was no use. The fall had knocked the wind out of me. I was so weak and tired and thirsty, I could barely lift my head. And when I did lift my head—that’s when I saw him.
He was enormous. Brown on his chin and two tiny brown spots above his eyes, the rest of the huge beast was black as death. He came from his doghouse. His monstrous paws shook the ground. I could feel the vibrations beneath me as he rushed nearer.
Rotten Willy stood above me.
My eyes scrunched tight. My fur ruffled when he sniffed. I peeked from one eye. His jaws were wide. His enormous, white teeth were as long as spears. I felt the hot dampness of his breath.
Closer.
Closer.
The gaping cavern of his mouth was a bottomless pit. His jaws began to close.
I squeezed my eyes tight. Please, I prayed. Please, please don’t let it hurt.
Then everything went black.
CHAPTER 14
My prayer was answered. Sort of . . .
I was cold and wet. Really cold. I had always hoped that there was a Cat Heaven. And if there was, it would be green and pretty. There would be fat, juicy mice all over the place—more than enough to go around for all the other cats. It would be wonderful and . . . warm.
My eyes fluttered. I still felt cold and wet. Nope. This wasn’t Cat Heaven! But what? Where was I?
I was on my side, so I struggled to my feet. I coughed and sputtered. The sound of running water came to my ears. I looked around. So much water dripped from my left side, it looked like a waterfall. The water streamed down, splashing in a small pond. Made of white plastic, the pond wasn’t very deep. It only came about two inches over my paws.
It was the Rotten Willy’s water bowl.
My wet whiskers sprang up on one side. I had to get away. I had to make a break for it. My tongue touched the water.
I wanted to run, only my tongue wouldn’t let me. It took over. It slipped out of my mouth and scooped up the water, then darted out again and again and again.
I almost had my fill and was ready to run when . . . well . . . there’s nothing quite like the feel of a big dog breathing on the back of your neck. I glanced up.
Gentle as a butterfly’s wing touching a flower, the Rotten Willy’s jaws wrapped around me. He lifted me and plopped me down in another bowl.
Again, my head told my feet to run—to make a break for it while I had the chance. Only, the corner of my mouth touched something. My tongue darted out and scooped a tiny bit of the tasty stuff into my mouth.
“I knew you would have to come down from the tree sooner or later.” Rotten Willy smiled and sat on his haunches. “I saved you some food.”
My whiskers wiggled as the taste of meat filled my mouth. Cautiously—watching him out of one eye—I leaned to peek at the food.
“The Mama always mixes meat with the dry stuff. I would have saved you some dry food, too, but I got hungry.” He ducked his head and gave a sheepish grin. “The meat is the best part, anyway. Go ahead. It’s yours.”
I was so cold, I knew I was going to shake myself clear apart if I didn’t stop shivering. Still careful and watching his every move, I leaned over the bowl and began to eat. Water, dripping from my wet fur, fell and mixed with the food.
When the meat was almost gone, I peeked at the gate. Just
one more bite and I’d make a run for it. Fast as I could, I’d . . .
The instant my eyes left the gate and glanced up, I saw his gigantic jaws close around me. Gently, he took me to his doghouse and plopped me on the floor.
Cats can see really well in the dark. Still, it took a moment for my keen eyes to adjust. That’s because Rotten Willy lay in front of the doorway. He was so huge, he blocked it completely.
“What are you doing?” I gasped.
“You’ll never make it.” His voice was soft and gentle.
“Huh?”
Rotten Willy looked at me out of one eye. He raised his head and sighed.
“I said, you’ll never make it. I could tell you were getting ready to run. You’re too cold and wet. It’s late at night, so your people are already asleep and they won’t let you in. It’s going to snow, and you’d freeze before morning.”
I frowned at him and cocked my head to the side.
“So?”
“So . . .” Rotten Willy made a grunting sound when he plopped his head back on the floor. “You sleep here tonight. Go home in the morning. I won’t hurt you. I promise.”
How long I stood there shaking, I don’t know. Finally, I got as far away as I could and curled up in the corner of his doghouse. I was so tired and weak, I couldn’t even dry my fur with my tongue. My eyes were heavy, but I couldn’t drop my guard. I had to stay awake. It felt like somebody put sand in my eyes. I blinked a couple of times. You’ve got to . . . stay . . . awake. . . .
• • •
“Would you be still?”
The voice snapped my eyes opened. I didn’t even realize I’d been asleep, much less curled up right against the gigantic monster.
“I can’t sleep with you shaking my doghouse.”
“I can’t help it.” My teeth clicked together. “I’m cold.”
Rotten Willy shoved himself up on one elbow so he could reach me. Then he began to lick, drying my fur with his huge tongue.
Dogs really have bad breath. I mean, it’s horrible! But after a while, my shivering stopped. I was tired and weak and still scared, but my eyes felt so heavy I could hardly hold them open. I curled up against his tummy.
