by Tom Watson
He stopped again.
He opened his eyes.
He was perhaps halfway across now.
“Stick Cat?”
He began to understand that it was quite difficult for Edith to do two things—reel the clothesline and talk—at the same time. He felt exhausted. He took a quick inhale of air and called back, “Yes?”
“Maybe we could get some rolled-up socks out of Goose’s drawer again,” Edith suggested. “I forgot how fun that was.”
“Okay,” Stick Cat called. He began to lose feeling in his front paws. He answered quickly, hoping to get moving again, “Sure.”
But he didn’t move again.
“Stick Cat, are you even listening to me?” Edith yelled.
Stick Cat nodded. He didn’t want to call to Edith anymore. Even that simple thing made the bag swing a little.
“What did I say then?” Edith asked.
He had to speak now. “StareDown and Goose’s socks.”
“Oh, good! You were listening,” Edith said. There was real pleasure in her voice. “I just can’t stand it when someone isn’t paying attention.”
Stick Cat started moving again.
For a moment.
Then he wasn’t.
“Stick Cat?”
He nodded.
“Why are you hanging like that? I think it would be much more comfortable if you rode inside the bag like I did.”
Now his shoulders ached. He felt his claws losing their grip. He tried to flex and push them in farther, but he didn’t want any more material to tear. It was a delicate balance.
He took a deep inhale of air, but his voice came out weak and whispery when he asked, “Could you reel me the rest of the way home, please?”
“What’s that?”
“Reel me in, please,” he repeated. He risked turning his head a little to look at Edith. Maybe if she saw the concern on his face, she would speed things up.
Edith was on the ledge. Her head was tilted at an odd angle—as if she was trying to figure something out. “You really like to eat peas?” she called. “Is that what you said?”
“Reel me in, please,” he tried to call again. But his voice was even weaker.
“What a strange time to be thinking about eating peas,” Edith said. She talked to herself as much as to Stick Cat. She did start pulling on the clothesline again, however. “I mean, look at you out there. Hanging from that thing, and all you can think about is eating peas.”
Stick Cat said absolutely nothing in response. He closed his eyes and held his body as still as he could. He concentrated all his energy on his claws and keeping them clenched into the material.
And then he felt something.
It was Mrs. O’Mahoney’s ledge. He had made it.
He reached for the ledge one leg at a time, releasing his claws from the clothespin bag carefully.
He sat down on the ledge next to Edith and began to take the clothespins off his body and drop them into the bag, which still hung on the line. As he did this, Edith said, “That really hurts the paws.”
Stick Cat nodded. “You wouldn’t believe how much,” he said, and gingerly rubbed his paws together. “I thought my claws were going to rip right out. I don’t think I could have held on too much longer.”
“Humph,” Edith said, and held up her own paws. “I wasn’t talking about your paws, Mr. Man. I was talking about mine. Pulling you over here wasn’t so easy, you know!”
“Oh,” Stick Cat said in quick acknowledgment. By this time, he had removed all the clothespins from his fur. “Well, of course you were. Thank you for getting me across.”
“It was nothing.” Edith sighed and casually stroked the top of her head from front to back.
“And so fast too,” Stick Cat added.
“Yes,” Edith said. “Let’s be honest, Stick Cat. It’s really quite lucky that you have me around.”
Stick Cat smiled. “I know.”
“Come on!” Edith said, and jumped from Mrs. O’Mahoney’s ledge to Stick Cat’s. “Let’s play StareDown.”
This time Stick Cat jumped right behind her to his own window ledge.
And he landed perfectly.
Chapter 14
“I DON’T WANT TO COUNT THAT HIGH”
Stick Cat was exhausted. And he decided to admit it to Edith right away.
“Edith,” he said. “I don’t think I can play StareDown or play with Goose’s socks right now. I’m really tired.”
Edith nodded in understanding, and Stick Cat was thankful for that.
“I’m kind of tired too,” she said. “I’m not too tired to sing you that victory song though. Do you still want me to do that?”
She began to hum a little as a warm-up. At least, Stick Cat thought she was humming. She might have had something stuck in her throat. He couldn’t quite tell.
“No, that’s okay,” Stick Cat said as fast and politely as he could.
“All right,” Edith said. She stopped humming and shrugged. She didn’t seem to mind. After helping Stick Cat push the window back down so that it was open just a few inches, she added, “Besides, there are still some breakfast dishes in the sink back at my place. And I’m pretty hungry.”
“Great,” Stick Cat said. He was already curling up on the inside windowsill—his favorite spot. Now that he knew Mr. Music was safe and Edith was going home, sleepiness came on fast. He would close the bathroom cabinet door and clean up from their treasure hunt after a quick snooze. “See you tomorrow then. Thanks for all your help rescuing Mr. Music.”
“No problem at all,” answered Edith. She stopped halfway across the living room and looked back over her shoulder at Stick Cat. There was a genuine sense of accomplishment on her face. “Next time there’s an emergency, just let me know, and I’ll sit down and save the day.”
Stick Cat smiled and closed his eyes.
Do you know how you fall asleep really quickly and deeply after a day in which you’ve accomplished something important and satisfying? Maybe you finished a big chore at home—like cleaning out the whole garage or something. Maybe you got a good grade on a test at school.
Well, that’s what happened to Stick Cat.
The fact that he had helped rescue Mr. Music made him feel so proud—and so sleepy. Complete contentment washed over his whole body as he settled into his most comfortable and cozy sleeping position on the windowsill.
He didn’t fall asleep though.
Do you know why?
It’s because Edith called to him from the bathroom.
“Stick Cat!” she yelled. “I’m stuck again!”
He hopped down from his favorite perch and started across the living room.
Edith wanted to make sure she heard him. “Stick Cat! Stick Cat!!”
“I’m coming,” he called when he was almost to the bathroom. He had heard her just fine—even though her head was through the hole and in her own apartment now.
When he got to the bathroom, he peeked into the cabinet under the sink and saw only Edith’s tail end.
“Stick Cat!”
“I’m right here,” he said upon entering the cabinet.
“Oh, I couldn’t tell. I can’t see behind me,” Edith explained. “Someone has been making the hole smaller again.”
“I see that.”
“I’m really wedged in here,” Edith grunted. “We’re going to have to get me unstuck again.”
Stick Cat smiled. “I don’t mean to be repetitive,” he said. “But by ‘we,’ you mean ‘me,’ right?”
Edith said nothing for almost a full minute. And Stick Cat decided to wait until she spoke.
Finally, she responded.
“Look, Stick Cat. This big-boned butt of mine just saved Mr. Music by sitting down on exactly the right spot and hitting exactly the right buttons on his phone. So don’t you give me any grief.”
“Okay, okay,” Stick Cat said, and smiled.
“Just give me a good push,” requested Edith. “I should pop through if
you’re strong enough.”
Stick Cat thought about this for a few seconds. After this consideration, he said, “So, if you don’t pop through, it’s because I’m not strong enough? It’s not for any other reason?”
“What exactly are you saying?!” Edith said immediately. “What are you implying?”
“Nothing, nothing,” said Stick Cat. He pointed his left shoulder and braced himself to push against Edith. “You count to three and then I’ll start pushing, okay?”
“No, not okay!”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t want to count so high, that’s why!”
“You don’t want to count as high as three? Really!?”
“Just start shoving, okay? Forget the whole counting thing. Just start shoving.”
And that’s exactly what Stick Cat did.
He pushed his left shoulder into Edith’s hind quarters. After a few seconds, she popped through the hole and was released into her own bathroom cabinet—and her own apartment. She peeked back through the hole at Stick Cat. She looked a little guilty for some reason.
“Thanks,” Edith said. “Maybe I’ll scratch at the hole tomorrow and make it a little bigger.”
“I’ll help you,” replied Stick Cat.
And with that, Stick Cat closed the cabinet door in the bathroom and headed back to his favorite sleeping spot.
Chapter 15
ENCORE
Finally, it was time to sleep.
Stick Cat curled up on the windowsill. He glanced down at the street twenty-three floors below and saw a tow truck taking the cement truck away. He glanced sideways and saw Mrs. O’Mahoney’s arms reaching out of her kitchen window next door to tie her apron back onto the clothesline. He could smell the warm baking bread.
And then he looked across the alley to the piano factory.
Mr. Music sat on the piano bench. He rubbed his arms in an attempt to reinvigorate the circulation in them. His coworker, Tony, was now gone. Stick Cat figured that while he and Edith were crossing the alley and getting Edith pushed through the wall, Tony had helped Mr. Music, ensured his safety, and disappeared back into that strange wall.
Knowing that Mr. Music was safe made Stick Cat feel even sleepier.
Stick Cat closed his eyes.
But he didn’t fall asleep.
Do you know why?
It wasn’t because Edith got stuck in the wall again. She was, by this time, happily on her own kitchen counter, licking the breakfast dishes in the sink.
No, this was something altogether different.
You see, when Stick Cat closed his eyes, Mr. Music got up from the bench to close the piano factory’s windows. And when he started to close the last window—the one directly across from Stick Cat’s apartment—Mr. Music lifted his head and looked at the apartment building.
And he saw Stick Cat on the inside ledge of that window.
He stopped and stared at Stick Cat for nearly thirty seconds.
And then Mr. Music opened that window as high as he could push it. He walked back to the black grand piano and sat down on the bench. He propped the lid open very, very carefully. Mr. Music stretched his arms, rubbed them again, and cracked his knuckles.
And then Mr. Music began to play.
It was a slow and melancholy tune—almost like a lullaby. It mixed softly and quietly with the sound patterns of traffic drifting up from the street.
Stick Cat had never heard anything so quietly beautiful. He opened his eyes one time only—to ensure that he wasn’t dreaming. He wanted to know that it was Mr. Music playing for him.
When he saw that it was, Stick Cat closed his eyes again.
He listened as long as he could.
Until he fell asleep.
THE END
BACK AD
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
TOM WATSON is the author of the Stick Dog series. There are currently five books in that series—and more to come.
He lives in Chicago with his wife, daughter, and son. He also has a dog, as you could probably guess. The dog is a Labrador-Newfoundland mix. Tom says he looks like a Labrador with a bad perm. He wanted to name the dog “Put Your Shirt On” (please don’t ask why), but he was outvoted by his family. The dog’s name is Shadow. Shadow gives Tom lots of ideas for the Stick Dog series.
Tom Watson is also the author of the new Stick Cat series. This story is the first in that series.
Tom does not have a cat. So his ideas for the Stick Cat series come from a whole different place. He’s not sure where that place is exactly, but he knows it’s kind of strange there.
While he has your attention, Tom would like to make one thing perfectly clear: There are not going to be any other stick animal books.
There won’t be a Stick Monkey, for instance. Or Stick Chicken (even though that’s fun to say). There will be no Stick Goat, Stick Pig, or Stick Donkey books. A Stick Cow story could be interesting, but he’s not doing it. Don’t count on any Stick Fish, Stick Rooster, or Stick Giraffe (even though that would be neat to draw) books.
He’s having plenty of fun just with dogs and cats.
Visit him online at stickdogbooks.com!
Discover great authors, exclusive offers, and more at hc.com.
CREDITS
Cover design by Jeff Shake
COPYRIGHT
STICK CAT: A TAIL OF TWO KITTIES. Copyright © 2016 by Tom Watson. Illustrations by Ethan Long based on original sketches by Tom Watson. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
www.harpercollinschildrens.com
* * *
Library of Congress Control Number: 2015952521
ISBN 978-0-06-241100-6
ISBN 978-0-06-245716-5 (int.)
EPub Edition © April 2016 ISBN 9780062411013
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FIRST EDITION
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