by Tom Watson
Stick Cat looked at Grandma as he leaned out the living-room window.
Grandma looked at Stick Cat as she leaned out the bathroom window.
“Do you think I could do that?” Grandma called. She looked at the distance, measuring it in her mind. “Well, I wouldn’t need to jump. I think I could reach it with one big sideways step.”
Then Grandma looked down.
To the alley—twenty-three floors below.
“Oh, my,” she whispered. She looked across to Stick Cat. “I don’t know. I just don’t know. I’m desperate to get back to Millie. And I think I can make it. I think I can. But if I slip. Oh, my.”
Grandma looked down again. She reached her right arm out of the window and felt the rough creases and crevices of the brick wall with her fingertips.
“Not much to grip there. If there was just something to hold on to,” she whispered. “Then I think I could do it.”
“Stick Cat!”
It was Edith.
He ducked back inside.
“Yes, Edith?”
“Check out what Millie can do!” Edith said excitedly.
Millie was sitting up. She gripped the necklace in her chubby little hands. Edith was a few feet away—and holding the necklace just as tightly. He could tell they were both enjoying it.
“What are you doing?”
“We’re playing tug-of-war!” Edith said with joy in her voice. “Millie the Munchkin is strong!”
Stick Cat smiled and said, “It looks like fun.”
“But now we’re bored,” Edith admitted.
“You’re bored?”
“That’s right. And tired. We could both, frankly, use a long nap,” Edith said. “I mean, we’ve played with Grandma’s necklace for, like, two or three minutes. My attention span doesn’t last longer than that. And neither does Millie’s.”
“I see.”
Edith sighed and said, “A girl can only hold a necklace for so long.”
Stick Cat twitched.
There was something there.
Again.
Something Edith said.
A spark.
A spark of an idea.
“What did you say?” he asked.
“I said we’re bored.”
“After that.”
“A girl can only hold a necklace for so long.”
“Hold a necklace,” Stick Cat whispered to himself. “So long. A girl can hold a necklace. So long.”
“Stick Cat, will you please stop repeating everything I say,” Edith said. She seemed pretty bothered. “It’s totally annoying.”
“A girl can hold the necklace!” Stick Cat said loudly, and smiled. “It’s so long. Hold the necklace!”
“Okay, okay,” Edith said, clearly misinterpreting what Stick Cat was saying and thinking. She flung her end of the necklace toward him. And to copy Edith, Millie dropped the necklace too. “Don’t be so demanding. You can hold it for a while. Jeez. It’s not that great. Even Millie is bored with it now. Play with it all you want.”
“I don’t want to play with it, Edith!” exclaimed Stick Cat. “I want to use it to help Grandma. You gave me an idea! You did it again!”
“Stick Cat,” Edith said, and lifted her chin in the air a bit. She wasn’t sure what he was talking about, but she was perfectly willing to take credit for whatever it was. “You should really start coming up with your own ideas. I’m tired of solving all your problems.”
“You’re right,” Stick Cat said quickly. He grasped the end of the necklace in his mouth and dragged it to the big blue couch. “I’ll work on that.”
Edith watched as he looped the end of the necklace around one of the couch’s thick wooden legs.
“What are you doing?” asked Edith.
He was too busy to answer.
“Stick Cat?”
“Yes?” he replied, and looped the necklace around the couch leg a second time.
“You know furniture doesn’t wear jewelry, right?” asked Edith. “I mean, that’s a little silly even for you.”
Stick Cat wrapped it around a third and final time.
“And you never ever use a color combination like that anyway,” Edith continued. “Purple and yellow on something blue? Tacky. So tacky.”
Stick Cat tied the looped necklace in a strong knot. He pulled hard on it. It was tight and secure.
He hurried to grab the necklace’s other end and picked it up with his mouth. He mumbled, “I’ll be right back.”
He had only taken two steps toward the window when Millie started to whimper again. It looked like she might cry.
“Oh no you don’t, Stick Cat,” Edith said. She then asked, “Where do you think you’re going, buster?!”
“I’m going to jump over to the bathroom ledge again,” he replied after dropping the necklace from his mouth. “If I can tie this other end to something in the bathroom, then Grandma will have something to hold on to when she steps across. She won’t fall.”
“And whose idea was it?”
Stick Cat knew how to answer that question.
“It was yours, Edith,” he said. “All yours.”
“And do you hear anything right now?” Edith asked. “I’ll give you a hint: it starts with an M and ends in an ‘illie.’ And it sounds like she might be about to cry. I don’t want her to cry.”
“Umm, thanks for the hint,” Stick Cat said. He focused on Millie. She made that about-to-cry sound again. “Yes, I hear Millie—and it does sound like that.”
Edith asked, “What do you think I should do?”
“Millie’s probably just tired and needs to sleep,” Stick Cat said. “I think you just need to be patient. She will fall asleep eventually. Maybe even quickly. Can you just stay with her until I get back? Hopefully, I’ll just be gone a few minutes.”
“Just a few minutes?”
“Hopefully,” responded Stick Cat. “And when I get back, you can go into the bedroom and take a nap and I’ll stay with Millie.”
“Oh, all right,” Edith said. “Go on. Hustle along there. The sooner you get back, the sooner I can take a nap. Try to think of how this affects me, Stick Cat. And get a move on, for goodness’ sake.”
Stick Cat nodded, smiled a bit to himself, and picked up the necklace once more.
He jumped out to the ledge, pulled all of the necklace’s slack, and piled it loosely on the ledge.
He peered forward.
Grandma was there leaning out of the bathroom window.
“Is that my necklace in your mouth?” she asked.
He heard Edith’s voice in his head again.
Action, Stick Cat. Action.
He jumped.
This time, Stick Cat did not land safely on the bathroom window ledge.
Chapter 15
ALMOST THERE
Stick Cat was in midair.
He soared in a graceful arc toward his destination.
His trajectory was perfect.
He had just made this very same jump a few minutes before.
He was confident.
He was almost there.
Just a few inches away.
And then the necklace, clenched in his mouth and trailing behind him, got snagged in a crack on the living-room window ledge.
It jerked Stick Cat back. He knew he wouldn’t make it.
He snapped his head to look down.
Twenty-three floors down.
His vision got blurry. His head got dizzy. His stomach got queasy.
And Stick Cat started to fall.
Chapter 16
A TERRIBLE SOUND
Stick Cat fell.
Until Grandma grabbed him.
She reached out from the bathroom window, stretched even farther than the edge of the ledge—and snatched him by the scruff of the neck.
When Grandma snagged him from the air—and from his plummeting doom—the necklace jerked free from its snag and came loose.
Grandma pulled Stick Cat through the bathroom window, held hi
m gently with both arms, stepped out of the tub, and put him down on the floor.
“What in the world are you doing back here?” Grandma asked. She stroked the back of Stick Cat’s neck and scratched him behind his left ear—his favorite spot.
Stick Cat purred.
“And why did you bring my necklace?”
The jump was scary, his brief fall was frightening, and Grandma grabbing him was exhilarating. The solid footing beneath his paws made Stick Cat feel safe and sound. But Grandma’s question sparked him to action.
Stick Cat looked around the bathroom, jerking his head in every direction. He needed something strong, heavy, and secure for the other end of the necklace.
“What are you looking for?” asked Grandma. “What are you up to?”
There wasn’t much in the bathroom, Stick Cat realized. The tub, the toilet, the shower curtain, the cabinet, the sink.
Wait.
The toilet.
The toilet would work.
Stick Cat took the necklace, still clenched in his mouth, and wrapped it once around the base of the toilet. He had to squeeze through the space between the back of the toilet and the wall, but there was just enough room.
“What are you doing?”
He wrapped it around a second time.
“Why are you doing that?”
He wrapped it around a third time.
“What in the world?”
Then he stopped. He could feel the tension in the necklace. It had grown tight and taut. Stick Cat pulled on it with both his paws as hard as he could and then tied a knot.
Grandma looked down at him and said, “I don’t understand.”
Stick Cat plucked on the necklace to demonstrate how tight and secure it was.
Grandma tilted her head a bit to the left, trying to figure out what Stick Cat was attempting to communicate.
But Stick Cat could not stay any longer.
He could provide no more hints.
That’s because right then the most earsplitting, screeching, horrible sound came piercing through the bathroom window.
Stick Cat leaped to the edge of the tub and then out to the window ledge to see where that awful sound came from.
He figured it out immediately.
That terrible sound was coming from the living-room window.
And it just got worse.
Way worse.
Chapter 17
LOOK WHO’S COMING
Stick Cat could not decipher the sound. He couldn’t tell what it was. It was as if a terrible noise was combined with a despicable noise—and then blasted through a megaphone.
He thought Millie and Edith might be in trouble. He thought they might be scared. He thought they might even be hurt.
Stick Cat did not hesitate.
He didn’t wait.
He didn’t think.
“Action, Stick Cat. Action,” he whispered to himself.
And he leaped back to the living-room window ledge. He tumbled inside, righted himself to stand on all four paws—and saw what was happening.
Mille and Edith were not hurt.
They were not in trouble.
They were not scared.
Well, quite honestly, Millie may have been scared.
Here’s what Stick Cat saw:
Edith sat back on her hind legs, had her front paws stretched up and over her head, and was singing—well, Edith called it singing anyway—at the top of her lungs.
Edith’s chest was puffed out. Her eyes bulged open with pride—and from the sheer physical force she used to project her voice as loudly as possible.
Millie was still on her back on that pink blanket. She was the deepest darkest red—almost purple—that Stick Cat had ever seen. Her eyes were squeezed shut. Her little chubby hands were clapped tightly over her ears.
And she was wailing as loud as Stick Cat had ever, ever heard.
He waited—it seemed like forever—for Edith to pause and inhale before screeching her next earsplitting shriek.
When she did, Stick Cat screamed, “Edith!”
Thankfully, she heard him above Millie’s crying and wailing.
“Oh, Stick Cat, you’re back,” Edith said calmly. “How’s it going?”
“Umm, fine,” Stick Cat answered loudly. He still needed to speak over Millie, but he could tell that she was already calming down. Maintaining his composure, he asked politely, “What are you doing?”
“Well, while you were gone I started to think about how Millie here might just be sleepy,” Edith explained. “And you said that I just had to be patient and wait for her to fall asleep.”
“That’s right,” Stick Cat affirmed. “That is what I said.”
“Well, guess what?”
“What?”
“I’m not very patient.”
Stick Cat couldn’t quite figure out where Edith was going, but he did feel a bit better. His heart was not thumping and pounding so hard. His paws were on the solid floor. Millie was still crying, but not as much or as loudly as before. He just nodded at Edith.
“Yeah, I’m not very patient at all,” Edith repeated. “So, I just decided to speed up the whole it’s-time-for-Millie-to-go-to-sleep thing.”
“And how were you doing that exactly?”
“I was singing her a lullaby.”
“That was a lullaby?”
“Yes,” Edith confirmed. “I call it, ‘Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Millie.’ It’s an original.”
Stick Cat smiled. He said, “It certainly is.”
Edith liked hearing that. And she added, “It was working too.”
“It was?”
“Most definitely,” Edith said. “Millie was yawning and her eyes were closed. I think she was almost asleep. Then you came in and now she’s crying again. But she definitely liked my singing. She has excellent taste in music.”
Stick Cat figured out quickly how Edith had misinterpreted things. Millie had not been yawning, she had been wailing and screaming. But Stick Cat figured Edith couldn’t hear that over her own, ahem, singing. And Millie’s eyes were closed not because she was getting sleepy, but because she was trying to hide from the whole situation.
But Stick Cat didn’t mention any of this to Edith.
He simply said, “I’m sorry I interrupted you.”
“It’s okay. My throat was starting to hurt anyway,” replied Edith. She then took a big inhale of air and asked, “Would you like to hear the rest? The rest of my lullaby?”
“No, no!” Stick Cat said as fast as he could.
“Why not?”
“I don’t want you to, umm, hurt your throat anymore.”
This seemed reasonable enough to Edith, and she exhaled. She plopped back down to all fours. And when she did, something entirely unexpected happened. And then something happened that was even more surprising than that.
You see, when Edith dropped out of that upright singing position, her tail swooshed down—and swished around.
And her tail—that soft, fluffy tail—swished right under Millie’s chin.
It tickled Millie.
She stopped crying.
Millie started to giggle.
“What was THAT?!” Edith exclaimed, snapping her head down to stare at Millie. “Did you hear that bizarre sound, Stick Cat?!”
“It was Millie,” Stick Cat said, and smiled. He had seen the whole thing. “You made her laugh!”
“I did?”
“You did.”
“How?”
“With your tail,” Stick Cat explained joyfully. “Your tail brushed beneath her chin. It tickled her. Look, she’s still smiling!”
“I can make her smile?” asked Edith. She wasn’t sure about all of this.
“You can make her smile.”
“I can make her laugh?”
“You can.”
“With my tail?”
“With your tail.”
To test this idea, Edith positioned herself a little closer to Millie and swooshed her tail u
nder her chin again.
Millie giggled even louder.
She smiled at Edith.
Edith smiled at Millie.
“She likes me, Stick Cat!” Edith exclaimed, and tickled her some more. “She totally likes me!”
“Of course she does. I think you’re her favorite.”
“Just like she’s my favorite,” Edith said, still tickling. “It makes total sense. I mean, what’s not to like? I’m smart, good-looking, and charming.”
“And don’t forget modest.”
“That’s right,” Edith remembered. “I’m the best in the world at being modest.”
Now, Edith would have likely continued tickling Millie for some time. They were all enthralled, excited, and happy about the whole tickling thing.
But right then something caught Edith’s attention from the corner of her eye.
“Hey, look,” she said, and pointed at the living-room window. “Here comes Grandma.”
Chapter 18
SLEEPY TIME
Stick Cat could see part of Grandma Cobb. He could see one of her feet on the window ledge and one hand clenched tightly around the necklace.
In just a few seconds, Grandma stooped down and tumbled into the living room.
She crawled over to Millie and picked her up.
“I am never letting you go again,” Grandma whispered. There were tears in her eyes.
“Aah, some peace and quiet,” Edith said, and sighed. She didn’t have the energy to move anywhere. She curled up right where she was near the couch, gave her shoulders and hips a quick shimmy to get in just the right sleeping position, and closed her eyes.
While Edith fell asleep, Grandma Cobb did several things—all while holding Millie in one arm. Millie was cooing and gurgling happily.
Grandma went to the bathroom, picked the doorknob up from the floor, and slipped it into the hole. She must have aligned it just right because when she turned it, the door clicked and opened easily. Stick Cat listened as Grandma went into the bathroom—after propping the door open with the bathroom trash can to ensure it didn’t shut again. He heard the necklace jangle and clatter as she untied and unwrapped it from the toilet. He heard it fall out the window and smack softly against the wall outside. He heard the bathroom window close.
