checking the upstairs toilets. Not with Zeb on the loose.
It drizzled a little this morning, so I can probably find a pool of rainwater outside. I duck through my door and run down the back porch steps into the yard. The grass is slightly damp. I lick the moisture off a few blades. It’s a start. I roll around in the grass then lie down and lick my fur. This is grooming and drinking at the same time.
My eyelids feel heavy. Maybe I could steal a little nap here in the grass before —
“There you are!” Georgie says, pushing open the kitchen door.
If she comes near me, I will smack her. I know that’s not nice, but it’s how I feel.
“I filled your food dish,” she says. She sets it down on the porch.
Okay, now I feel bad.
I scurry over to it. Oh, she opened a
can
! It’s Salmon Supper and tastes more like fish than the dry stuff does. She scratches my head as I lap it up. This is more like it. This is good. I love Georgie.
Bang!
This is Zeb slamming the door behind him as he emerges from the kitchen.
“Hissy cat!” he roars. His hands are curled up like claws. He hisses. Which is my thing.
Hssssssssss!
I say.
I abandon the food with a heavy heart, but in a hurry. Zeb is a monster.
I consider dashing away across the lawn, scaling the fence, and disappearing into the neighborhood. But the neighborhood is dangerous during the day. Automobiles, dogs, and kids everywhere. I’d never find a place to sleep, either. Too noisy. Wherever you find humans, you will find noise.
Instead, I shoot through Zeb’s legs and back through my door into the kitchen. Georgie neglected to close the pantry door after she got the can of food, so I slip inside. I leap over a row of large cans on the floor and hunker down. I feel my pulse in my throat.
The door bangs again and Zeb’s heavy feet bang on the linoleum.
Bang, bang, bang!
“Leave Hissy alone, Zeb!” Georgie says. The door opens again and she steps inside. “I just got him calmed down. He was real mad after you chased him upstairs. He even scratched me.”
Zeb roars again. He’s a wild animal. He shouldn’t be allowed inside. He should be an outside boy.
He runs from the room. I’ve escaped him. For now.
“Hissy?” Georgie whispers, peeking into the pantry.
She knows my hiding places, too.
I’d be mad if she weren’t holding the food dish.
I mew.
She giggles. “I thought you might be in here.”
She pulls the door almost shut behind her, then crouches. I leap back over the cans and dive into the Salmon Supper.
Georgie scratches my back. I prefer the head, but I let it pass. I do complain when she weaves my tail in her fingers.
Hsssssssss!
“Shhh,” she says. “We don’t want Zeb to find out where we are.”
She’s right. She brought me food. She’s protecting me from the toddler. She can tug my tail all she wants. She’s only human, after all.
4.
Howls of the Monster
I’m now fed and lying on Georgie’s lap. She’s on her bed. I’d love to sleep; however, Georgie will not stop yakking.
“In the library today Mr. Fairchild read a story about a cat named Due Date that lived in a library. It was called
Library Kitty
, which isn’t a very creative title, is it? The cat lived in the library, and was really sweet, and everyone loved her, and then one day she disappeared, and everyone got so sad, even the people who didn’t really like cats. There arepeople like that, you know, Hissy. Not everybody loves cats the way me and Tillie do.”
Tillie is Georgie’s best friend. She has a white cat named Igloo, whom I sometimes prowl with during the night.
As Georgie relates the story of the missing library cat, she strokes me. She seldom pays attention to what she’s doing while she’s yakking, so I guide her hand toward my cheeks. I purr loudly to show my approval.
Prrrrrrrrrr!
“At the end, Due Date just walks into the library followed by the cutest little baby kitties you ever saw! Me and Tillie thought that was a perfect ending,
It drizzled a little this morning, so I can probably find a pool of rainwater outside. I duck through my door and run down the back porch steps into the yard. The grass is slightly damp. I lick the moisture off a few blades. It’s a start. I roll around in the grass then lie down and lick my fur. This is grooming and drinking at the same time.
My eyelids feel heavy. Maybe I could steal a little nap here in the grass before —
“There you are!” Georgie says, pushing open the kitchen door.
If she comes near me, I will smack her. I know that’s not nice, but it’s how I feel.
“I filled your food dish,” she says. She sets it down on the porch.
Okay, now I feel bad.
I scurry over to it. Oh, she opened a
can
! It’s Salmon Supper and tastes more like fish than the dry stuff does. She scratches my head as I lap it up. This is more like it. This is good. I love Georgie.
Bang!
This is Zeb slamming the door behind him as he emerges from the kitchen.
“Hissy cat!” he roars. His hands are curled up like claws. He hisses. Which is my thing.
Hssssssssss!
I say.
I abandon the food with a heavy heart, but in a hurry. Zeb is a monster.
I consider dashing away across the lawn, scaling the fence, and disappearing into the neighborhood. But the neighborhood is dangerous during the day. Automobiles, dogs, and kids everywhere. I’d never find a place to sleep, either. Too noisy. Wherever you find humans, you will find noise.
Instead, I shoot through Zeb’s legs and back through my door into the kitchen. Georgie neglected to close the pantry door after she got the can of food, so I slip inside. I leap over a row of large cans on the floor and hunker down. I feel my pulse in my throat.
The door bangs again and Zeb’s heavy feet bang on the linoleum.
Bang, bang, bang!
“Leave Hissy alone, Zeb!” Georgie says. The door opens again and she steps inside. “I just got him calmed down. He was real mad after you chased him upstairs. He even scratched me.”
Zeb roars again. He’s a wild animal. He shouldn’t be allowed inside. He should be an outside boy.
He runs from the room. I’ve escaped him. For now.
“Hissy?” Georgie whispers, peeking into the pantry.
She knows my hiding places, too.
I’d be mad if she weren’t holding the food dish.
I mew.
She giggles. “I thought you might be in here.”
She pulls the door almost shut behind her, then crouches. I leap back over the cans and dive into the Salmon Supper.
Georgie scratches my back. I prefer the head, but I let it pass. I do complain when she weaves my tail in her fingers.
Hsssssssss!
“Shhh,” she says. “We don’t want Zeb to find out where we are.”
She’s right. She brought me food. She’s protecting me from the toddler. She can tug my tail all she wants. She’s only human, after all.
4.
Howls of the Monster
I’m now fed and lying on Georgie’s lap. She’s on her bed. I’d love to sleep; however, Georgie will not stop yakking.
“In the library today Mr. Fairchild read a story about a cat named Due Date that lived in a library. It was called
Library Kitty
, which isn’t a very creative title, is it? The cat lived in the library, and was really sweet, and everyone loved her, and then one day she disappeared, and everyone got so sad, even the people who didn’t really like cats. There arepeople like that, you know, Hissy. Not everybody loves cats the way me and Tillie do.”
Tillie is Georgie’s best friend. She has a white cat named Igloo, whom I sometimes prowl with during the night.
As Georgie relates the story of the missing library cat, she strokes me. She seldom pays attention to what she’s doing while she’s yakking, so I guide her hand toward my cheeks. I purr loudly to show my approval.
Prrrrrrrrrr!
“At the end, Due Date just walks into the library followed by the cutest little baby kitties you ever saw! Me and Tillie thought that was a perfect ending,
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