Little Cat's Luck Read online

all far from home.

  Gus was perfectly willing

  to share his house

  and his kibble.

  Once he’d seen the kittens,

  especially Gustina,

  he would have shared anything,

  including his heart.

  But a house

  just right

  for a large dog

  isn’t meant for a cat and kittens,

  especially

  when the leaves are falling,

  which means winter is close.

  And besides,

  if there is anything

  a new mother needs,

  it is exactly the right food.

  Lots of it.

  How else can she make milk

  in her own body

  for her babies?

  And we already know

  Patches would not do well

  on a diet of polite mouselings.

  Gus would have shared his food,

  of course,

  but his dog kibble

  was great chunks,

  too big and too dry

  for a small cat.

  So Patches

  and Gus

  stayed quiet

  for a long time,

  thinking.

  The silence was broken

  finally

  by the small red squirrel.

  She sat up

  and

  jerked

  attention.

  to

  tail

  her

  “You stay p-p-put,”

  she said to Patches and Gus.

  “I’m going to g-g-go

  on the squirrel n-n-network.

  There must be

  s-s-someone out there

  who can help.”

  “Good,” Patches said.

  She had no idea

  what the squirrel n-n-network was,

  but what could she do

  except

  stay put

  anyway?

  So the squirrel

  ran up the tree

  next to Gus’s house,

  chattering loudly.

  “C-c-come!” she called.

  “C-c-come squirrels.

  C-c-come rabbits.

  C-c-come birds and b-b-bats.

  We have a mother

  who needs our h-h-help!”

  And she leaped

  from tree to tree to tree,

  still calling,

  until she had disappeared

  into the night

  and even her voice

  had faded away.

  When all was silent again,

  Gus,

  still cradling mother and babies

  between his great paws,

  spoke.

  “You sleep,”

  he said to Patches.

  “You’ve worked very hard tonight

  and must be tired.

  I’ll keep watch.”

  And so Patches

  and the new kittens

  slept.

  Gus,

  faithful to his word,

  watched

  and

  watched

  and

  watched

  through

  all

  the

  rest

  of

  the

  night.

  At last

  the night faded away.

  Even the moon

  moved on,

  dropping

  over

  the

  edge

  of

  the

  earth.

  The sun peeped

  over the other edge.

  And a morning breeze

  set the dry leaves

  gossiping

  about all they had seen

  during the night,

  especially

  the new kittens.

  Still,

  the squirrel

  did not return.

  Patches woke rested

  and nursed her babies,

  her put-put-putting purr

  quieter this morning.

  And Gus continued to watch,

  quiet for a change

  too.

  Even when the mail carriers

  pulled up

  to the post office

  across the street

  to begin

  sorting the mail,

  he didn’t shout,

  “Go away!

  Go! Go! Go!”

  even once.

  “I wonder what’s wrong with Gus?”

  one of them said.

  But Gus was fine.

  Actually,

  the big, gray dog was happier

  than he’d been

  for a long, long time.

  You see,

  the main ingredient

  for happiness—

  for dogs

  as well as for us humans—

  is having someone

  to love.

  And though he’d only just met her,

  Gus loved Patches.

  And he loved

  her three

  fine

  babies,

  one of whom he had named

  himself

  and one

  who was named

  after him.

  Still . . .

  no sign

  of the small red squirrel.

  The sun was riding

  high in the sky

  by the time Patches and Gus

  heard the squirrel

  returning.

  But it wasn’t only

  their own squirrel

  they heard.

  They heard the chatter

  of dozens of squirrels,

  the soft hop-hop-hopping

  of herds of rabbits,

  the twittering

  of flocks of birds.

  And trailing after them all

  with its silent,

  zigzagging flight,

  was even one

  very sleepy bat.

  (Bats,

  as I’m sure you know,

  are night creatures.

  They fly

  through the dark,

  then snug in someplace safe

  to sleep

  through the day.

  But this one had heard the call

  and had come

  anyway.)

  All the creatures

  gathered around.

  “Everyone

  has come to h-h-help,”

  the squirrel said.

  “T-t-tell us

  about the girl you have lost.”

  And so Patches did.

  She told them

  about her girl,

  about the way her girl

  petted her

  and played with her.

  She told them about the sweet scent

  of her girl’s breath

  on the pillow at night.

  She even told them

  about the chipped

  blue bowl

  that her girl

  filled with delicious kibble

  and sometimes even

  a touch

  of tuna.

  “Hmmmm!” said one of the rabbits.

  “I’ve seen lots of girls.

  And they live

  in lots of different houses.

  How will we ever

  find a house

  by looking

  for a girl?”

  “Oh!” Patches said.

  She hadn’t thought

  about that.

  So then she told them

  about

  the watching window

  and the golden tree

  and the leaf

  that

  had

  wafted

  this

  way

  and

  that,

  the leaf that had called herr />
  from home.

  “A golden tree!”

  the birds all sang.

  “S-s-surely,”

  the squirrels chattered,

  “we can f-f-find

  a golden tree

  in front of a h-h-house

  with a wa-wa-watching window.”

  “Yes,”

  said the rabbits,

  “surely we can.”

  And so off they flew

  and leaped

  and hopped

  in search of Patches’s house.

  (The bat

  went home

  to sleep.

  But don’t blame him.

  If you were a bat

  and had been

  gobbling mosquitoes

  all night long,

  you’d surely be sleepy

  too.)

  Patches helped herself to several bites

  of Gus’s kibble,

  took a long drink of water,

  and then,

  warmed to the tip of her tail

  at having so many good friends,

  went back

  to caring for her babies . . .

  and waiting.

  All would soon be well.

  She was certain of it.

  The sun rode low in the sky

  by the time the rabbits

  returned,

  walking steadily and slowly

  with only

  occasional

  an hop.

  They flopped to the ground

  and said

  not a word.

  The birds flocked

  to the tree

  next to Gus’s house,

  twittering so softly

  among themselves

  that Patches couldn’t make out

  a word they were saying.

  Then at last,

  the small red squirrel arrived

  with his friends,

  all of them

  dragging their tails

  like furry rags.

  “There are just too-too-too many

  houses

  and too-too-too many golden trees,”

  the squirrel explained,

  “and too-too-too many

  watching windows, too-too-too.

  I’m afraid we will n-n-never

  find your house

  and your girl.”

  Patches’s

  heart

  dropped

  like

  a

  stone.

  She had been foolish

  to leave home

  without once

  turning

  to look back.

  She had been foolish

  to leave home

  at all.

  “Oh my,”

  she said.

  And she gazed

  at her tiny babies.

  Would she and they

  have to make their way

  in the world

  alone?

  And then,

  for the first time,

  she remembered

  someone else.

  The mouseling!

  The mouseling with

  the bright berry

  in his mouth.

  The same kind of berry

  that grew on the bushes

  around her house!

  She hadn’t told her new friends

  about the berries.

  She hadn’t told them

  about the mouseling,

  either.

  Maybe,

  just maybe,

  the bright red berry

  came from her bushes.

  If so,

  surely

  the mouseling could help!

  And so Patches explained again.

  This time not

  only

  about her girl

  and the golden tree

  and the watching window.

  This time

  she explained

  about the bushes

  filled with bright berries

  around the base

  of the house.

  And about the mouseling

  who,

  perhaps—

  just perhaps—

  knew right

  where those bushes

  grew.

  Then,

  although it was very hard

  for her to leave her kittens,

  even for a moment,

  she gave each

  a lingering lick

  and said,

  “Gus will watch over my babies

  while they sleep.

  Why don’t I come with you?

  We’ll find the mouseling,

  and together

  we’ll find my house.”

  And so squirrels

  and rabbits

  and birds

  and Patches

  set off in search

  of a mouseling

  who surely knew

  exactly

  where to find

  her house.

  It didn’t take long to find

  the mouseling.

  His nest lay between the roots of the great oak

  just behind the post office.

  He was tucked in with

  his mother

  and his brothers and sisters.

  The mother mouse

  was more than a bit startled

  to have a cat

  poke her pink-and-black nose

  and her long, white whiskers

  into her nest.

  But the mouseling said,

  “It’s all right, Mama.

  If you only say ‘please,’

  this cat

  won’t eat you.”

  His mother wasn’t so sure

  about the power

  of please,

  even though

  she had faithfully taught

  her children

  to say it.

  But since this cat

  already had her nose and whiskers

  inside the nest,

  she squeaked “p-l-e-a-s-e”

  as sweetly as she could,

  then stayed very still,

  waiting

  to see what would happen

  next.

  But Patches,

  as we know,

  had no interest in sampling mice.

  Instead she explained

  about the berry bushes,

  about how important it was

  to find them

  and the house

  and the girl,

  too.

  “The berry!”

  the mouseling shouted.

  “Oh, that delicious red berry!

  Of course,

  I can show you

  exactly

  where I found it.”

  And Patches

  and the flocks of birds

  and herds of rabbits

  and half the squirrels in town

  followed the mouseling

  through the grass,

  along a sidewalk,

  across several streets—

  always looking both ways first—

  and at last,

  to a yard

  with a golden tree,

  a watching window,

  and a whole row

  of bushes

  with bright berries

  stretched all along the base of the house.

  Patches had never seen

  her house

  before,

  not from the outside.

  But she knew

  she had found the right place

  the instant she saw it.

  Just looking at it

  set her fine, white whiskers trembling.

  “That’s it!” she cried.

  “That’s my golden tree

  and my watching window,

  too.

  It’s where my chipped blue bowl

  lives />
  and my girl.

  Especially my girl.”

  And she ran up to the front door

  and mewed

  as loudly

  as one small calico cat

  could,

  “I’m here!

  I’m here!

  I’ve come home!

  At last!”

  And the door flew open

  and a girl appeared

  and gathered Patches

  into her arms.

  (Our happy ending,

  don’t you think?)

  The girl kissed Patches

  and hugged her

  and dripped happy tears

  on her patchy fur.

  “My Patches,” she cried.

  “My dear, dear Patches!

  I knew you’d come home!”

  And with that

  she stepped back inside the house,

  still holding Patches close,

  and shut the door.

  “I’m going to keep you safe,”

  she told her beloved cat.

  “You’ll never,

  ever,

  ever

  go outside

  to get lost

  again!”

  It should have been a joyous moment—

  and it was,

  except for one small

  problem.

  When Patches heard the door

  snap shut,

  she could think of only

  one thing.

  Her babies.

  Her babies!

  Unless she could get

  her girl to understand

  about her kittens,

  she would never

  see them

  again!

  And so she cried,

  loud and strong,

  “My babies!

  We have to go back for my babies!”

  But,

  of course,

  though the girl loved Patches

  with all her heart,

  she heard only,

  “Meow!

  Meow, meow, meow, meow!”

  “I know,”

  she said.

  “You’re so happy

  to be home.”

  And still holding Patches close,

  she went to find

  the chipped blue bowl

  to give her

  an early supper.

  A happy ending.

  Almost.

  Outside the house

  the squirrels,

  the rabbits,

  the birds,

  and the little mouseling

  all

  gasped.

  Every one of them

  had thought

  Patches’s problems

  would be over

  when they found her house.

  No one had thought

  to make a plan

  for reuniting

  the little mother

  with her babies

  after they’d found

  her girl.

  “We’ll b-b-break the d-d-door down!”

  the squirrels cried.

  “We’ll peck at the windows!”

  the birds chirped.

  “We’ll hide close by and watch!”

  the rabbits whispered.

  Because the truth is,

  even when rabbits want very much to help,

  they

  are not

  exactly

  brave.

  “Do it!

  Do it!

  All of you!”

  the mouseling squeaked.

  “And while you’re doing it,

  I’ll

  scare

  the

  girl!”