by Tom Watson
“That’s interesting,” sighed Edith. She didn’t stir or open her eyes.
“I think all those strange sounds are coming through our hole in the bathroom cabinets,” Stick Cat said. So far, he was keeping his composure. “Someone’s in your apartment. And I think I know who it is.”
Edith rolled her head a bit in an attempt to loosen her neck muscles and settle into a more comfortable resting position.
“It’s probably Tiffany. She must have come home from work early or something,” replied Edith. She shook her head ever so slightly. “This better not affect her paycheck. I found a single loose thread on my cashmere blanket. I need a new one.”
Stick Cat ignored the whole cashmere blanket thing. He recognized an opportunity to get Edith up and on her feet.
“If it’s Tiffany, then you have to get home right away!” exclaimed Stick Cat. “You can’t get caught over here! Tiffany and Goose will find the hole. They’ll plug it up! We won’t be able to see each other anymore!”
Edith opened her eyes then.
But just barely.
She contemplated the whole situation—and considered her options.
“Let’s see, let’s see,” she said, more to herself than to Stick Cat. “I could stay here. I have a belly full of tuna, I’m really sleepy, and this carpet is so soft and comfortable—but I might get busted by Tiffany.”
Stick Cat inhaled and exhaled methodically two more times as he waited.
“Or,” Edith said. “I could get up and walk all that long, long, long way to the bathroom, probably get stuck in the wall, wait for you to push me through—all so we don’t get into trouble.”
Stick Cat continued to breathe slowly.
“It’s a tough call,” Edith said. “Nap or get caught. Nap or get caught.”
Edith rested her chin on her front paws.
And closed her eyes.
She had apparently chosen the nap option.
Stick Cat shook his head. He was out of ideas.
Thankfully, he didn’t need to come up with another idea to get Edith alert and moving. Because at precisely that moment a loud clanging noise boomed out from the bathroom.
“Oh, for criminy’s sake!” Edith huffed. She opened her eyes and shook her head back and forth quickly four times. “How am I supposed to sleep with all that racket?! What is Tiffany doing in there?!”
“I don’t think it’s Tiffany,” responded Stick Cat.
“Well, who else could it be?” Edith asked, and stood up. She seemed unfortunately resigned to the fact that she would need to move. “I’m the only other one who lives there, Stick Cat. And, I don’t know if you’ve noticed or not, but I’m right here in front of you. Helll-looo.”
“I don’t think it’s Tiffany,” Stick Cat repeated. “And I don’t think it’s you.”
“Well,” Edith said, and arched her back, stretching the sleepiness from her body. “Who is it then, Mr. Smarty-Pants?”
Stick Cat looked Edith directly in the eyes.
He said, “I think it’s Tuna Todd.”
“Tuna Todd?!”
“I think so,” Stick Cat replied. “He’s probably trying to st—”
“That’s great!” Edith screamed, and hurried off to the bathroom. “I’m hungry again!”
Chapter 11
ANOTHER JACKPOT
Stick Cat had never seen Edith move so quickly—and so soon—after a nap.
Typically after sleeping, Edith’s eyes would open slowly. She would push her front paws forward and push her body up. Then she would stretch her rear legs straight back one at a time. Only after this two-minute routine would she take her first step after a nap.
That is not what happened this time.
As soon as Edith thought Tuna Todd might be in her apartment, she bolted across the living room in a straight line to the bathroom. Stick Cat hustled after her.
By the time he entered the bathroom, Edith had already dived into the cabinet and plunged into the hole between their apartments.
It was only then that she stopped moving quickly.
I bet you know why.
She was stuck.
“Stick Cat!” Edith called.
“I’m right here,” Stick Cat replied, and ducked his head into the bathroom cabinet.
He saw exactly what he thought he would see—Edith’s tail, back legs, and hindquarters.
“Well, hurry and give me a push,” Edith pleaded. Stick Cat could hear her muffled words clearly enough. “He could be spreading Magic Tuna Dust all over the place and there’s nobody there to eat it! This is an emergency!”
Stick Cat felt anxious. He was mad about the burglar taking the watch and money from Goose. He suspected this awful man was now going to steal things from Tiffany and Edith’s apartment too. He didn’t want to watch that.
But seeing Edith stuck in the wall for the umpteenth time and knowing her desire for more tuna drove all her actions was certainly amusing. He smiled a bit and shoved Edith the rest of the way through the hole—and Stick Cat followed after her.
He trailed Edith to the kitchen first. The room was in total disarray—drawers were open and emptied. Napkins, silverware, and papers were scattered all over the floor. The cabinets were all open.
“It’s Tuna Todd, all right,” Stick Cat said. “He was in here looking for more things to steal.”
“Not necessarily,” Edith said quickly in Tuna Todd’s defense. “Even if it is him, maybe he came in here to find something to eat.”
“What?!”
“He’s probably famished, Stick Cat,” explained Edith. “Imagine, just imagine. He travels throughout the world sprinkling Magic Tuna Dust over all the good cats everywhere. I’m sure he works up quite an appetite. Did you ever think of that?”
“Umm, no,” answered Stick Cat. He tried for a moment to think of something else to say, but he didn’t need to. Because right then a man’s voice called out from the bedroom.
It was Tuna Todd.
“Jackpot!”
“It’s him!” Edith exclaimed. Then she turned to Stick Cat and asked, “Do you know what time it is?”
Stick Cat shook his head. You could tell he wasn’t looking forward to the answer.
Edith smiled at him and said, “It’s tuna time!”
Then she bounded out of the kitchen, sprinted through the living room, and entered her and Tiffany’s bedroom.
Stick Cat followed her. As he passed through the living room on the way to the bedroom, Stick Cat saw another vent cover on the floor. Tuna Todd had obviously come straight here from his and Goose’s apartment.
The burglar was hunched over the bedroom dresser. His back was toward Stick Cat and Edith as they stood inside the doorway and observed him. His hands moved quickly and there was a distinct metallic clinking sound coming from his direction.
Leaning closer toward Edith, Stick Cat whispered, “What’s on the dresser?”
“Just Tiffany’s jewelry box,” Edith whispered back. She then licked her lips and asked a question back. “Do you think Tuna Todd has any Magic Tuna Dust left?”
“Umm,” Stick Cat said, and paused.
“And one other question.”
“Yes?”
“Why are we whispering?”
“So he doesn’t know we’re here,” Stick Cat answered, and paced a couple of quiet steps backward. He nodded toward Edith to follow him—and, thankfully, she did. Once they were positioned outside the bedroom doorway and just peeking into the room, Stick Cat continued with his explanation. “We don’t want him to see us.”
“Why not?” Edith asked, and cocked her head. “If he doesn’t know we’re here, then he won’t sprinkle us with scrumptious Magic Tuna Dust.”
Stick Cat shook his head ever so slightly, but Edith didn’t notice.
“We want to surprise him,” Stick Cat whispered. He tried to think of something—anything—to stop this man.
“We do?”
“Yes,” Stick Cat said.
&nbs
p; While this conversation occurred, the burglar continued to empty all the individual drawers and trays in the jewelry box.
“Are we going to surprise him with a treat of his own?” Edith asked.
Stick Cat stopped observing the man stealing all of Tiffany’s jewelry and turned to Edith. He asked, “Why in the world would we do that?”
“Well, it seems only fair,” Edith said without hesitation. She had apparently thought this through a bit. “You know how kids leave cookies and milk for Santa?”
“Yes.”
“I think we should do a similar thing for Tuna Todd,” Edith explained. “We’ll make him a snack. Maybe a ham-and-cheese sandwich. Or spaghetti and meatballs.”
“Umm—”
“And you know how kids leave the treats by the fireplace for Santa,” Edith whispered quickly. She seemed to get more and more enamored with her idea as she spoke about it. She really liked where this was all going. “They do that because that’s where Santa gets in and out of each house.”
“Umm—”
Edith didn’t give Stick Cat any more time to respond. She was pretty worked up.
“Well,” she went on. “We’ll leave the sandwich or pasta for Tuna Todd near the air-conditioning vent. Since that’s where he goes in and out.”
Stick Cat just looked at Edith.
And looked at her some more.
He could think of nothing at all to say. He knew he would have to convince Edith that Tuna Todd was not a Santa-like person. He glanced toward the burglar, who had now turned a little sideways to make it easier to dump the contents of the jewelry box’s largest drawer into his bag.
“Great idea, right?” Edith asked, and nodded her head with true enthusiasm.
“Look,” Stick Cat whispered and pointed.
He and Edith watched as Tiffany’s glittering necklaces and sparkling bracelets fell into the bag.
“That sure is sweet!” Edith exclaimed quietly.
“What?!” Stick Cat whispered, and tugged Edith backward—farther out of the doorway. “Sweet?!”
“Oh, yes,” Edith said. They were not completely hidden from the burglar. “Very sweet. Don’t you see, Stick Cat? Tuna Todd uses all that jewelry to make special presents for good kitties. He uses the diamonds, rubies, sapphires, and other gemstones to create beaded collars, fancy ribbons, and decorative food bowls for all the good kitties all over the world.”
“You really believe that?!”
“Without a doubt,” Edith said. “He’s Tuna Todd. He takes from bad people and gives to good kitties.”
“So, Tiffany is bad?”
“She’s no great shakes,” Edith said, and shrugged. “Just yesterday morning, for instance, my eggs Benedict were average at best. The hollandaise sauce wasn’t rich enough. I think she used milk instead of cream. That really takes away from the overall flavor and complexity of the dish.”
Stick Cat shook his head ever so slightly and then said, “You’re saying it’s okay if he steals from Tiffany.”
“Oh, certainly,” Edith answered.
“But she’s your roommate.”
“So?”
“She gives you silk pillows and cashmere blankets.”
“What’s your point?”
“She feeds you!”
“She’s not that great a cook. Didn’t you hear what I just said about the eggs Benedict?” Edith asked. That made her think of another meal. “And last night my trout amandine was slightly overdone. I like my fish a little more tender.”
“So, it’s okay if he steals things from people as long as he uses those things to then leave gifts for cats all over the world?”
“That’s right,” answered Edith. She seemed relieved that Stick Cat had begun to understand. “Now you’re catching on. It took you long enough.”
“Then why didn’t he leave something for me? At my apartment?”
“I guess you weren’t very good this year,” Edith said matter-of-factly. “You must be on the naughty kitty list.”
“And where does Tuna Todd do all this?” asked Stick Cat. Then he added, “Wait. Don’t tell me. The North Pole, right?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Stick Cat,” Edith sighed. “The North Pole is Santa’s territory. That’s where Santa’s workshop is. You know, with the leprechauns and walruses.”
“Do you mean elves and reindeer?”
“Whatever.”
The whole conversation, of course, was entirely bizarre to Stick Cat. And Tuna Todd continued to rummage through Tiffany’s belongings to try to find more things to steal. Stick Cat was frightened.
But he couldn’t help himself.
He had to find out a few more details about Edith’s Tuna Todd theory.
He asked, “Where’s, umm, Tuna Todd’s workshop then?”
“I’m not sure,” Edith said. “Somewhere equally exotic and private, I would think. Philadelphia, Cleveland, Kilcrohane, Birmingham. Somewhere like that.”
This conversation would have, no doubt, continued for some time.
But it stopped right there.
Tuna Todd said something at that exact moment that grabbed Edith’s full attention.
“What’s this?” he asked out loud. He had by now emptied all the contents of Tiffany’s jewelry box into his satchel and moved on to the dresser drawers. “Balls of yarn? Dozens of them. This looks like a good hiding place.”
Edith immediately started into the bedroom, but Stick Cat stopped her after just two strides. He reached out and tugged gently on her collar.
“Where are you going?!” he asked in an urgent whisper.
“Tuna Todd is ready to play again! What a great guy! Balls of yarn are even more fun than sock balls. I LOVE to play with balls of yarn! I need to let him know I’m here!” Edith answered upon turning her head over her shoulder. When she did so, she noticed Stick Cat’s paw on her collar. “And would you kindly remove your paw? Now.”
Stick Cat withdrew his paw as fast as he could.
“Why does Tiffany have a whole drawer of yarn balls?” asked Stick Cat. It appeared as if he was trying to distract Edith—trying to delay her a bit.
“Oh, she’s always knitting me stuff. Sweaters, booties, that kind of thing,” answered Edith. “She worked for weeks on a set of pink booties for me last winter. She didn’t want my paws to get cold.”
“That was nice of her,” Stick Cat responded genuinely. “I’ve never seen you wear any knitted things.”
“I never wore them,” explained Edith.
“Why?”
“They were cotton,” Edith explained. “I won’t wear something that common. Now, if they were knitted from angora, then I might consider trying them on at least. Maybe. But probably not.”
“Why not?”
“Because she’d probably knit the booties in pink again.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
Edith shook her head. She couldn’t believe that Stick Cat would ask such a ridiculous question. “Booties are autumn and winter apparel, Stick Cat. You only wear them when it’s cold outside.”
“Okay, but I still don’t understand.”
“Pink is a spring color,” Edith sighed. “I’d never wear pink in winter. Tiffany has no fashion sense whatsoever.”
“She worked for weeks on those booties and you refused to wear them because they were the wrong color for the season?”
“And they were made out of cotton. Don’t forget that.”
“Right,” remembered Stick Cat. “And made out of cotton.”
“I’m glad you understand.”
“Umm,” Stick Cat said, and hesitated. He knew he didn’t have much time. Tuna Todd had already emptied more than a dozen yarn balls from the drawer. They were scattered about on the floor. But he still had one more question he wanted to ask Edith about the booties. So he asked it. “How did you let Tiffany know you didn’t like them?”
“Oh, that was easy.”
“How’d you do it?”
“I dropped t
hem in the toilet.”
“You dropped them in the toilet?!”
“Then I flushed them.”
“You flushed them?!”
“I flushed them.”
Now, this conversation might have continued for a little while longer.
But it didn’t.
Do you want to guess why?
You don’t have to guess. I’ll just tell you.
At that precise moment, the burglar caught the glimmer of something glittery and sparkly from the corner of his eye.
And when Edith realized what the man had noticed her entire attitude changed drastically.
Chapter 12
BUT I’M A GOOD KITTY
“What do we have here?!” the man said, and took his hands out of the yarn drawer. He didn’t even bother to close it. Something else had caught his attention. There was sheer glee in his voice. “My, my, my! These look valuable!”
Tiffany and Edith’s large queen-sized bed was situated in the middle of the bedroom. On the right side was one pillow and a cotton blanket—that was Tiffany’s side. On the left side were three pillows—one soft, one medium, and one hard—and a cashmere blanket.
The left side was, obviously, Edith’s side.
Tiffany had an alarm clock and a lamp on a small table by her side of the bed.
But that’s not what the burglar noticed.
What the burglar noticed was next to the left side of the bed.
Edith’s side of the bed.
Hanging on the wall there were Edith’s collars. She had one for each day of the week. Each collar hung from a peg on a board attached to the wall. Only one collar was missing—the Tuesday collar.
Today was Tuesday.
And that collar was around Edith’s neck right now.
But soon the other six collars would be gone too.
The burglar took two quick, long strides to Edith’s side of the bed and reached for a collar.
