by Tom Watson
Millie cooed and babbled some sounds in response.
Edith sighed and opened her eyes. The nearby activity had disturbed her—and distracted her from falling asleep. She asked, “What does a girl have to do to get some sleep around here?”
“Grandma is just going to use the bathroom,” Stick Cat said. “She’ll be back to take care of Millie in a minute.”
“I know you’re not going to go anywhere,” Grandma said, and folded the soft pink blanket over Millie partway. “You haven’t even started crawling yet. So I know you’re safe here.”
Before leaving for the bathroom, Grandma tickled Millie under the chin for a few seconds.
Millie giggled and then looked up from the floor at Edith on the couch. Millie gurgled some noises at her.
“I think Millie is trying to talk to you,” Stick Cat suggested.
“Is that so?” Edith replied, and sighed. She didn’t seem very interested.
“It sure looks like it,” Stick Cat said. “She can’t take her eyes off you.”
This comment, however, seemed to make an immediate—and huge—impression on Edith. Of all the things in the world, Edith liked being admired the most. She gave Millie a smile of encouragement and asked, “What do you think she’s saying?”
“I bet she’s complimenting you about how smooth and shiny your fur looks today.”
Edith examined herself for a few seconds, then said, “She certainly has fine taste and exceptional skills of observation, I’ll give her that.”
“She definitely does,” Stick Cat said, and then crossed the living room and hopped up to the windowsill. It was cracked open a couple of inches. That was just how he liked it. He enjoyed feeling that cool city breeze move through his fur. It was calm and quiet then for a single minute.
A single minute.
Then Stick Cat heard two separate and distinct noises inside the apartment.
First, the toilet flushed in the bathroom.
Then CLUNK!
That was the second sound.
Stick Cat snapped his head in the direction of that second sound. He wanted to know what made that noise.
On the floor in front of the bathroom door was one thing.
The doorknob.
And Stick Cat could hear Grandma yell something from inside the bathroom.
“Oh no!”
Chapter 6
TRAPPED
Stick Cat leaped from the windowsill and hurried to the bathroom. When he got there, he pawed at the doorknob and examined it. He looked up to see a hole in the door where the knob used to be.
By scooting away from the door, he could just see through that hole into the bathroom.
What he saw was Grandma’s eye looking right back at him.
Then her eye disappeared.
A few seconds later, the door shook and shimmied.
He heard Grandma grunt as she pushed against it four times.
It didn’t budge.
It was stuck.
She was stuck.
Inside.
And Stick Cat, Edith, and Millie were on the outside.
Grandma’s eye came back to the hole. It was wide—and it was panicked.
“The doorknob broke!” she exclaimed. “I can’t get the door to move at all. I don’t know what to do!”
Stick Cat moved to the door and propped up against it. By stretching as high as he could, Stick Cat could just see through that hole. Grandma pushed an index finger through the hole and petted his cheek the best she could.
“Okay, okay,” Grandma said, and moved away from the door. “Millie’s out there. She’s okay. For now. I just fed her. She can’t crawl away. But I have to get out of here. Who knows what might happen? And, oh my goodness, Tiffany and Goose will never let me babysit again. Think, Carol, think!”
Stick Cat heard her move around inside the bathroom. He heard her open and close the sink cabinet drawers and doors. She pulled the shower curtain to one side, exposing the window, and then back again. She opened and closed the mirrored cabinet above the sink. She searched for something—anything—she could use to open the door.
Stick Cat hurried to the living room.
Edith was on her belly, leaning off the front edge of the couch. She stared down at Millie on the floor.
“Edith! Edith!!” Stick Cat exclaimed as he got there. He jumped up on the couch next to her. “We’ve got big, big trouble!”
“Shh, Stick Cat,” Edith said quickly. “I’m talking with Millie.”
This caught Stick Cat completely off guard.
“You’re what?”
“I’m talking with Millie.”
Now, even though Stick Cat had an emergency on his paws, he just had to investigate this a bit further.
He asked, “You can understand what Millie is saying?”
“Of course,” Edith replied. “I’m super-smart. I have a very good brain. I know exactly what she’s saying.”
“What’s she saying right now?”
“She just asked me how I get my eyelashes to curl and flutter so exquisitely. It’s girl-talk, Stick Cat. It’s no wonder you can’t understand her like I can.”
While Edith described her new baby-interpreting skill to Stick Cat, Millie was completely content lying on her back on the floor. She was gurgling and sticking her fingers in her mouth.
“I see. Thanks for explaining,” Stick Cat said, and smiled. Only Edith, he thought, could figure out a way to make Millie’s baby noises into compliments for Edith. And he was delighted that she seemed to be warming up to Millie. He turned to more pressing matters. “Grandma is trapped in the bathroom. The doorknob broke!”
“Grandma? What Grandma?” Edith asked. She didn’t seem to care at all. “Grandma who?”
“Grandma Cobb, of course.”
“Oh, right. Her,” Edith said slowly. She did not quite have disgust in her tone of voice. But she did have disdain. She was still upset and now considered Grandma unworthy of her attention. “I remember her. She’s the one who did not have a toy in her bag for me, did not play with her necklace with me, and gave me leftover—leftover—applesauce to eat. Yes, yes. I remember her, all right. I remember her quite clearly.”
“She’s your favorite person,” Stick Cat reminded.
“No,” Edith said, and shook her head. “Millie is my favorite person now. You should hear all the wonderful things she’s saying about me.”
Stick Cat understood that Edith was upset with Grandma. But he didn’t have time to navigate her hurt feelings right now. He knew that taking care of Millie was a big and important job. And he knew that babies were fragile and could be hurt easily. And he knew that Grandma was desperate—absolutely desperate—to get out of that bathroom and back to Millie.
Stick Cat had to help her do that.
He just didn’t know how.
“Edith,” he said. “I know you’re upset with Grandma right now, but I was wondering if you might have any ideas about how we could get her out of the bathroom?”
Edith was absolutely silent then. She said nothing for more than a minute. She looked back and forth between Stick Cat on the couch and Millie on the floor. Millie was getting louder, gurgling and babbling more and more.
“Edith?” Stick Cat asked again. “Any ideas?”
“I tell you what,” Edith finally said. “If you’ll just leave me and Millie alone, I’ll help you get Grandma out of the bathroom.”
“Deal,” Stick Cat said. “How do I do it?”
“It’s easy.”
“It is?”
“Totally.”
“What is it?”
“You pull her through that hole where the doorknob was.”
“Excuse me?”
“You pull her through the hole.”
“Umm,” Stick Cat said, and paused. “I think she’s a little too big to fit through that hole.”
“Well, I don’t mean you pull her through right now,” Edith said, and shook her head. “You pull her through later.�
��
“Later?”
“That’s right.”
“Later when?”
“After she’s lost enough weight and can fit through the hole.”
Stick Cat pulled his mouth to one side. He contemplated his words a moment before speaking. “It’s a terrific idea, Edith. It really is. But she would need to lose almost every single pound.”
“So?”
“So,” Stick Cat said. “That’s not possible.”
“Well, that’s not my problem. That’s her problem,” Edith replied, and stood up to all fours. She hopped off the couch. “I’m going to get that rattle for Millie. She just told me she wants to play.”
Stick Cat jumped off the couch too. He headed to the bathroom to help Grandma.
When he got there, something unusual was sticking out of that hole in the door.
Something very unusual.
Chapter 7
MILLIE DOESN’T MESS AROUND
The wooden handle of the toilet plunger was sticking out of that hole. It poked in and out. It jiggled left and right. It wiggled up and down.
“Come on, come on,” Grandma said from inside the bathroom as she moved the handle in every possible direction. Stick Cat was at the door now and could hear her clearly.
He knew that toilet plunger. It had been in the bathroom cabinet for years. He had seen it every day that he and Edith had met through the hole in the wall. That hole was all boarded up now though.
He wanted Grandma to know he was there. He wanted her to know he hadn’t forgotten about her—and that he wanted to help.
He just didn’t know how to help.
Yet.
He meowed.
As soon as he made that noise, Grandma pulled the toilet plunger handle out of the door and into the bathroom.
She looked through the hole.
And saw Stick Cat.
“I see you there,” she said. “I thought maybe I could knock something inside the door or the lock. Maybe shake something loose. It didn’t work.”
Stick Cat meowed again.
“I don’t know what to do,” Grandma continued. It sounded like she was talking to herself more than Stick Cat—like she was hoping an escape plan would come to mind if she spoke out loud. “There’s no phone in here, obviously. There’s nothing. A sink. A tub. A shower curtain. A window. A toilet. Nothing I can use. Nothing.”
Stick Cat could not see Grandma through the hole anymore. She had stood up. He could hear her pacing about on the other side of the door—looking all around for anything to use.
“I have to get back to Millie,” Grandma said. “I’m not strong enough to knock the door down. I’d break my shoulder on my first attempt. I can’t—”
Grandma didn’t finish her sentence.
She was interrupted.
By Millie.
Millie started to cry in the living room.
Now, there’s something you need to know about Millie.
She was cute and playful and sweet, like all babies are. But when Millie decided that it was, indeed, time to cry—Millie didn’t mess around.
She didn’t start with a little whine. She didn’t groan or sigh. She didn’t start at a low volume and build up slowly to get louder and louder until she reached her highest volume.
No.
When it came to crying, Millie’s approach was as loud as possible.
And as fast as possible.
“WAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!”
“Oh no!” Grandma exclaimed. She stooped down to the hole and looked out. She couldn’t see into the living room, of course. She called, “It’s okay, Millie. It’s okay, Millie. Oh, what am I going to do?!”
Stick Cat pivoted and raced off to the living room to try to help. When he got there, he couldn’t believe what he saw.
Chapter 8
EDITH SHAKES
Edith had succeeded in finding the rattle. She had brought it to Millie.
She showed it to Millie.
She rattled it for Millie.
It was, umm, the way Edith showed it and rattled it for Millie that was so alarming.
Edith leaned back on her rear haunches right next to Millie, who was still lying on her back on the pink blanket. Edith held the rattle in her front paws right above Millie’s face.
And when I say right above Millie’s face, I mean, like, right above Millie’s face.
Like three inches above her face.
Maybe two inches.
And Edith shook that rattle as fast and as furiously as she could.
“Look at the rattle! Look at the rattle, Millie!” Edith screamed. Her eyes were wide open. “Isn’t it fun?!”
Millie obviously didn’t like this kind of playing at all.
Stick Cat bounded over to the scene.
Edith turned her head calmly to him when Stick Cat arrived next to her.
“I don’t think she likes this rattle toy,” Edith said. As she spoke, Edith continued to shake the rattle vigorously right above Millie’s face. “No matter how hard I shake this thing, she isn’t having any fun. I got it real close so she can see it. But she doesn’t like it at all. Why do you think that is?”
“Umm, I have no idea,” Stick Cat said. He had to think for a moment. He needed to get the rattle away from Edith. She was scaring the living daylights out of Millie rather than playing with her. Edith didn’t recognize this, of course. She didn’t know she was scaring Millie, but she was scaring her just the same. “Speaking of ideas, your first Grandma-rescue plan was so great I wonder if you could come up with another one for me?”
“Of course I can,” Edith replied, appreciating the compliment. She still shook the rattle. “I’ve thought of another plan already.”
“Great,” Stick Cat said as fast as he could. “Before you tell me, maybe you could hand me that rattle. It’s so loud—and I want to be able to hear your plan clearly.”
To Stick Cat’s great relief, Edith stopped shaking it and handed it to him. Immediately, Millie stopped wailing and screaming. Edith didn’t seem to notice.
Stick Cat put the rattle down on the floor.
“All right,” Edith said. “Since you think it will take too long for Grandma to lose enough weight to fit through that hole, I have another idea.”
“Super. What is it?”
“She uses the toilet.”
“Umm,” Stick Cat responded slowly. “What?”
“The toilet. She uses the toilet.”
“Okay,” Stick Cat said. He had a couple of emergencies on his paws. Grandma was trapped in the bathroom and completely desperate to get back to Millie. Millie was settling down, but still whimpering. She had, after all, just been scared out of her wits by Edith. He wanted to deal with these two situations as effectively—and as quickly—as he could. And Stick Cat suspected that Edith’s toilet plan—whatever it was—would not be helpful. He asked quickly, “How do we use the toilet to get Grandma out of the bathroom?”
Edith sighed. “Do I really have to explain it? It’s perfectly obvious.”
“Please do.”
“Okay,” Edith said, and inhaled deeply. “First, Grandma steps into the toilet and stands there. Then—”
“Wait, wait,” Stick Cat said. “I’m sorry to interrupt, Edith. But did you say that Grandma should stand in the toilet?”
“That’s exactly what I said,” she confirmed calmly. “Was that difficult to understand or something? I mean, really, Stick Cat, try to keep up.”
“Okay, I will,” he answered. “It’s just that I’ve never thought of people standing in toilets.”
“Don’t worry about it, Stick Cat,” Edith replied. It sort of sounded like she was bragging a little bit. “I’m the one doing the thinking here. That’s pretty obvious. And pretty typical.”
“Okay, then,” Stick Cat said, and smiled a bit to himself. Edith didn’t see him. He said, “So, Grandma stands in the toilet. What happens next? How does she get out of the bathroom?”
“She flushes the toil
et.”
“She flushes it?”
“She flushes it.”
“Umm,” Stick Cat said, and paused. “Why?”
“Well, so she goes down the toilet, of course,” Edith explained. Her whole Grandma-rescue plan appeared perfectly reasonable, logical, and simple to her.
“Okay. She goes down the toilet,” Stick Cat said. He figured it was probably better—and quicker—to just accept Edith’s strategy than to ask a bunch more questions about it.
“Then she spins around in the water for a few seconds,” Edith continued. “You know how the water swirls around right when you flush the toilet?”
“It does?” Stick Cat asked. “I didn’t know that. I’ve never noticed. I’ve never actually looked into a toilet before.”
“Oh, I have,” Edith said. “Right when you push the silver handle, there’s a big WHOOOOOOSH! of water, then it all spins around real fast like a mini-tornado, then SKLUUUURPSH! the mini-tornado gets sucked out real fast-like. It’s totally awesome!”
Stick Cat was curious about something, you could tell. His face was scrunched up slightly and his left eyebrow was lifted a bit. He knew he had to rescue Grandma, but he just had to ask Edith something.
“How did you learn so much about flushing toilets?” he asked.
“I’ve flushed them before,” Edith answered matter-of-factly. “Quite a few times.”
“Why?”
“Oh, whenever Tiffany gives me some little gift that I don’t like, I’ll often flush it down the toilet,” Edith said. “It sends a pretty clear signal to her about my particular likes and dislikes.”
“I see,” Stick Cat said. “I guess I do remember you telling me about flushing some pink booties that you didn’t like.”
“That’s right,” Edith said. “Tiffany knitted them for me a few winters ago. It took her weeks and weeks. She’s not a very skilled knitter, to be honest. Not that crafty.”
