Murphy & Mousetrap by Sylvia Olsen Page A

leg, the stone glistened like a marble.

    Mousetrap lay in a sleepy pile with his eyes open just enough to watch Murphy place the stones into a pile.
    â€œSo, Mousetrap,” Murphy said, passing the small green stone in front of his cat’s half-open eyes. “What kind of stone do you think this is?”
    Mousetrap’s ears shot up and he opened his blue eyes wide. His tail was curled around his body, and the tip rested under his chin. It twitched as he examined the stone.
    Murphy waited patiently as if Mousetrap would identify the stone, before he placed it next to others. Soon Murphy had three piles. Each pile contained similar stones. Mousetrap and Murphy examined the stonesand the Web sites until they heard the key turn in the front door. Then Murphy grabbed Mousetrap and ran into the bathroom. He jumped into the bathtub and pulled the shower curtain around them. He tucked his cat onto his lap, took a deep breath and held on until he heard the door open.
    â€œMurphy, I’m home,” Mom called.
    She shut the door and walked through the hall to the kitchen. Murphy heard plastic bags drop on to the kitchen floor and then a shuffle, which was probably Mom taking off her coat and throwing it over a kitchen chair.
    â€œMousetrap,” Mom called. “Where are you?”
    Murphy didn’t move, and Mousetrap stayed perfectly still. Murphy imagined Mom standing in the living room with her hands on her hips.
    The living room floor creaked as she stepped toward Murphy’s bedroom.
    â€œMurphy, I know you’re here.”
    Her steps moved into her own bedroom, and Murphy heard her open the closet and say, “Where are you two?”
    Her footsteps got louder and louder. Murphy caught another breath and squeezedMousetrap. Just as he was about to jump out to surprise her, Mom pulled back the shower curtain.
    â€œGotcha!” she cried. She pulled Murphy and Mousetrap out of the bathtub, hugged her son and stroked Mousetrap on the head.
    â€œYou scared me,” Murphy said.
    â€œYou scared me too,” Mom said with a laugh.
    Murphy had lived with Mom and Mousetrap in the apartment for as long as he could remember. His dad lived in another city in another province. Murphy didn’t know much about his dad except that Mom said Dad left him three things: his blue eyes, which weren’t like Mom’s at all, his blond hair and his name, Murphy. Mom had decided to call her son Murphy Jones: Dad’s last name first, Murphy, and Mom’s last name second, Jones. That was just about all Murphy knew about his dad.
    His dad had left before he was born, so it had always just been the three of them. Mom said Murphy was only two months old when neighbors down the hall moved out and leftMousetrap behind. When Mom came home from work, Mousetrap, who was just a little kitten at the time, was wandering up and down the hall. Mom picked him up and took him home. He was a tiny ball of white fluff. Mom said he looked like a snowball, his hair sparkled so much. Mom figured Mousetrap and Murphy must have been almost the same age, so they both celebrated their ninth birthday on October 30.
    Murphy knew that cat years made Mousetrap much older even though they were both born at the same time. That didn’t make much sense to Murphy, but most of the time Mousetrap did act like an old cat. He preferred to lie around the house curled into a tight ball fast asleep. Sometimes Mousetrap played with Murphy, games like hide-and-seek. But he didn’t run around like he did when he was younger or play with invisible things or jump at things that Murphy couldn’t see.
    â€œMurphy, come and set the table,” Mom called.
    Supper was hot and steamy on the stove and smelled like fried salmon, Murphy andMousetrap’s favorite. Mousetrap stayed at Murphy’s heels as Murphy walked back and forth with plates and knives and forks. Then the cat jumped up onto a chair and watched expectantly as Mom