murmur.
Before she was mine, Mittens was a stray. I first saw her one day when she came wandering around the clinic.
“Let’s go check out the witch,” David says. “I’ve never seen a real one.”
“Oh, come on!” I say, laughing. “You don’t really think she’s a witch!”
“You never know,” David says in a low, creepy voice, his eyes darting mysteriously from side to side. “At Halloween, anything is possible.”
“David, you’re so weird,” I tease.
“I think there might really be such things as witches,” Brenna says. “They can do good stuff, too.”
“Yeah,” Maggie agrees. “I mean, people havebelieved in them for so long. Could people be totally wrong?”
“Sure they could be wrong!” I argue. “People used to think the earth was flat, and that the sun revolved around the earth, and all sorts of crazy things.”
“I heard a story once,” David begins in a spooky tone. “During the Salem witch trials, a woman was hanged for being a witch. But as they put the noose around her neck, she put this horrible curse on the people. She swore she would dance on their graves.
“Every year on the anniversary of her death, footprints appeared on the graves of anyone who had watched the witch get hanged. When people tried to wipe away the footprints, their hands were covered with blood.”
“Ew!” Brenna cries with a shiver.
“Creepy,” Maggie agrees.
I smile and roll my eyes. Spooky stuff like witches, ghosts, and ancient curses are fun at Halloween, but they’re not for real. I’ll take scientific explanations every time.
Mittens begins batting markers across the table. One of the markers rolls off and falls tothe floor. As I bend to pick it up, Mittens starts chewing on a button. I pull it away from her. My cat has been known to eat strange things.
She pounces on my hand with her claws sheathed. “OK! OK! I get the message,” I say to her. I pull a length of thick orange yarn out of its skein and cut it off. I dangle the yarn in front of Mittens. “Here you go, Mittens—catch this!”
I reach high and jiggle the yarn. Mittens rises on her back legs and swings her paws at it.
“Go on! Catch it!” I coax, pulling the yarn just out of her reach. “You can get it, Mittens.” I lower the yarn just a bit so she can have the satisfaction of capturing it.
We laugh as Mittens pounces ferociously. She reminds me of a lioness, hunting out on the savanna. She snatches the whole piece of yarn out of my hand and then sits on it, protecting her prize.
“Good job!” we praise her, clapping. “Way to go!”
I stroke my cat’s silky fur. I’d wanted a cat for so long before my mother finally gave in. At first, she had a million excuses—cats shed, cats tear up the furniture, and so on. When she finallylet me have Mittens, it was the happiest day of my life.
I named my cat Mittens because she looks like she’s wearing two little white mittens on her front paws.
I’ve never met a more affectionate cat. She’s always nuzzling me and giving me scratchy little love-kiss licks. I return those with a kiss on her furry forehead.
David cuts a piece of white cardboard into the shape of a face. He cuts out the eyeholes, then a slit for the mouth. “Should I draw the fangs or make them with clay?” he wonders aloud.
Suddenly there’s a loud bang from outside, as if something heavy has just fallen. Some animal makes a screechy, screaming sound. The howl becomes more high-pitched.
“That is definitely a cat!” I say—a very upset, angry, threatening cat.
We jump up and rush to the door. It sounds like a cat fight, but I can hear only one cat screaming. I get to the door first and pull it open, but before I can step out, Maggie grabs my shoulder, holding me back. “Look out!” she cries as a black blur streaks by my feet.
Chapter Two
W hat was that?” I gasp.
Behind me, David shouts. “There it is! It’s a cat, a black cat!”
I see it for just a second as it races
Before she was mine, Mittens was a stray. I first saw her one day when she came wandering around the clinic.
“Let’s go check out the witch,” David says. “I’ve never seen a real one.”
“Oh, come on!” I say, laughing. “You don’t really think she’s a witch!”
“You never know,” David says in a low, creepy voice, his eyes darting mysteriously from side to side. “At Halloween, anything is possible.”
“David, you’re so weird,” I tease.
“I think there might really be such things as witches,” Brenna says. “They can do good stuff, too.”
“Yeah,” Maggie agrees. “I mean, people havebelieved in them for so long. Could people be totally wrong?”
“Sure they could be wrong!” I argue. “People used to think the earth was flat, and that the sun revolved around the earth, and all sorts of crazy things.”
“I heard a story once,” David begins in a spooky tone. “During the Salem witch trials, a woman was hanged for being a witch. But as they put the noose around her neck, she put this horrible curse on the people. She swore she would dance on their graves.
“Every year on the anniversary of her death, footprints appeared on the graves of anyone who had watched the witch get hanged. When people tried to wipe away the footprints, their hands were covered with blood.”
“Ew!” Brenna cries with a shiver.
“Creepy,” Maggie agrees.
I smile and roll my eyes. Spooky stuff like witches, ghosts, and ancient curses are fun at Halloween, but they’re not for real. I’ll take scientific explanations every time.
Mittens begins batting markers across the table. One of the markers rolls off and falls tothe floor. As I bend to pick it up, Mittens starts chewing on a button. I pull it away from her. My cat has been known to eat strange things.
She pounces on my hand with her claws sheathed. “OK! OK! I get the message,” I say to her. I pull a length of thick orange yarn out of its skein and cut it off. I dangle the yarn in front of Mittens. “Here you go, Mittens—catch this!”
I reach high and jiggle the yarn. Mittens rises on her back legs and swings her paws at it.
“Go on! Catch it!” I coax, pulling the yarn just out of her reach. “You can get it, Mittens.” I lower the yarn just a bit so she can have the satisfaction of capturing it.
We laugh as Mittens pounces ferociously. She reminds me of a lioness, hunting out on the savanna. She snatches the whole piece of yarn out of my hand and then sits on it, protecting her prize.
“Good job!” we praise her, clapping. “Way to go!”
I stroke my cat’s silky fur. I’d wanted a cat for so long before my mother finally gave in. At first, she had a million excuses—cats shed, cats tear up the furniture, and so on. When she finallylet me have Mittens, it was the happiest day of my life.
I named my cat Mittens because she looks like she’s wearing two little white mittens on her front paws.
I’ve never met a more affectionate cat. She’s always nuzzling me and giving me scratchy little love-kiss licks. I return those with a kiss on her furry forehead.
David cuts a piece of white cardboard into the shape of a face. He cuts out the eyeholes, then a slit for the mouth. “Should I draw the fangs or make them with clay?” he wonders aloud.
Suddenly there’s a loud bang from outside, as if something heavy has just fallen. Some animal makes a screechy, screaming sound. The howl becomes more high-pitched.
“That is definitely a cat!” I say—a very upset, angry, threatening cat.
We jump up and rush to the door. It sounds like a cat fight, but I can hear only one cat screaming. I get to the door first and pull it open, but before I can step out, Maggie grabs my shoulder, holding me back. “Look out!” she cries as a black blur streaks by my feet.
Chapter Two
W hat was that?” I gasp.
Behind me, David shouts. “There it is! It’s a cat, a black cat!”
I see it for just a second as it races
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