Little Cat's Luck Read online

and clerks and customers

  from the Piggly Wiggly.

  He ignored Joe

  from Joe’s Gas and Grill

  and the woman

  who had pulled her car

  over to the curb

  to see what the commotion

  was about.

  The only one Gus paid attention to

  was Patches,

  lying flat

  beneath his paw.

  “Gus,” she said again,

  in a voice almost as squeezed

  as she was.

  “You can’t do this!”

  Though he could,

  of course.

  Nonetheless,

  Gus listened.

  He looked closely at Patches,

  too.

  She didn’t just look squeezed.

  She looked scared.

  Of me? he thought.

  Could this dear little cat be afraid of me?

  “I’m sorry,” he said,

  so softly

  that no one heard except

  the cat beneath his paw.

  “All I wanted . . .

  the only thing

  in all the world I wanted

  was for you and your babies

  to stay.”

  And he lifted his great gray paw,

  freeing Patches . . .

  at last.

  She stood

  slowly.

  First she gave her three-colored coat

  a few licks

  to put everything

  back in place.

  Then she looked into Gus’s brown eyes

  with her golden ones

  and said,

  “These babies need me,

  Gus,

  and I need to go home.

  So they must

  go home

  with me!”

  Gus’s ears went so

  f

  l

  a

  t

  a

  n

  d

  l

  i

  m

  p

  that they touched

  beneath his chin.

  He didn’t argue,

  though.

  He just rose

  slowly.

  When he was full on his feet,

  the crowd gasped.

  Until then

  no one but Patches had known

  what was hidden

  between the great dog’s paws.

  But there they were,

  three tiny, new kittens,

  one black,

  one orange tabby,

  one calico,

  curled into a furry pile!

  Three kittens

  for all the world to see!

  “Oh!” the girl cried.

  “Oh! Oh! Oh!

  Kittens!

  My Patches

  had

  kittens!”

  And everyone

  who had come

  when the girl had called, “HELP!”—

  all of them feeling

  more courageous now

  that the boy was there

  to take charge

  of the meanest dog in town—

  opened the gate

  and flowed into the yard.

  They gathered close

  to see

  the perfect wonder

  of babies.

  Patches,

  just to make sure everyone knew

  the babies were,

  indeed,

  hers,

  gave each a lick

  with her rough, pink tongue.

  And to show

  not only that they were hers,

  but how proud

  she was,

  she turned on the loudest

  mother-motor purr

  anyone had ever heard

  from such a small cat.

  The boy stood

  with a hand on Gus’s collar,

  just to make sure,

  while the girl gathered

  Patches

  and her kittens

  to take them home.

  (One of the mail carriers helped.

  She was delivering mail

  to the girl’s house

  anyway,

  she said,

  and mother and babies

  fit comfortably

  inside her pouch.)

  Gus watched

  sadly

  as the girl

  and the mail carrier,

  his cat

  and his kittens,

  all

  disappeared

  down the street.

  The excitement over,

  everyone else left

  as well.

  The other mail carriers.

  The clerks from the Piggly Wiggly.

  The customers,

  too.

  Joe from Joe’s Gas and Grill.

  Even the woman

  who had stopped

  to check out

  the commotion.

  All of them gone.

  Only the boy stayed.

  He sat down, put his arms around his dog,

  and leaned into him

  the way he used to do

  when Gus lived

  inside the house.

  If dogs had been given

  the gift

  of tears,

  Gus would have wept,

  but since he had no tears,

  he just hung

  his great head

  and leaned

  into his boy.

  After a few minutes,

  though,

  the boy hugged Gus

  one last time,

  got up from the grass,

  and went inside the house.

  He had homework waiting.

  Later

  he brought out a special treat,

  hamburger

  mixed in with the dry kibble.

  But Gus didn’t want

  a special treat.

  He didn’t want

  dinner at all.

  He just wanted Patches

  and Moonshadow

  and Little Thomas

  and Gustina.

  When the boy went inside

  again,

  Gus lifted his great head

  and howled.

  He was still howling

  when Patches

  and her kittens

  were settled

  in a comfy box

  in the corner

  of the warm kitchen.

  He was howling

  when the girl

  and her mother

  and her father

  sat down to dinner,

  all of them

  watching proudly

  over their fine cat family.

  (As proudly as if

  they had been the ones

  to bring the kittens

  into the world.)

  He was howling

  when all the town

  turned off their lights

  and went to bed.

  And he was howling

  when everyone got up

  the next morning,

  their eyes heavy

  from lack of sleep.

  Gus howled

  through all of the next day

  and into another night.

  And then,

  a few restless hours

  after everyone had climbed

  into their beds,

  hoping

  at last

  to sleep,

  the howling ceased.

  It just stopped mid-howl,

  as though someone

  had turned off

  a switch.

  Or as though

  the heart

  of the great gray dog

  had finally shattered.

  Few worried

  about what might have happened

  to Gus,

  thoug
h.

  The entire town

  simply sighed

  with relief.

  The meanest dog in town

  was silent . . .

  at last.

  Only the boy

  in the tan house

  and the girl

  in the house

  with the golden tree

  and the watching window

  (and the row of bright-berry bushes)

  sat up in their beds,

  suddenly uneasy.

  But then,

  because they were tired

  too,

  they lay back down,

  each of them,

  and went to sleep.

  Patches lifted her head

  and laid a protective paw

  across her babies.

  She had grown rather accustomed

  to Gus’s howl.

  She’d found the sound

  almost soothing.

  At least,

  when she heard the great dog’s voice,

  she knew

  exactly where he was . . .

  on the corner

  across from the post office.

  On the corner,

  behind a high chain-link fence.

  No longer holding her

  and her kittens

  hostage

  with a heavy paw.

  Patches tucked her babies in

  closer

  and lay her chin across her brood.

  “Mine,”

  she murmured.

  She was home,

  she reminded herself.

  She and her babies were safe.

  She had her girl

  and her chipped blue bowl

  and this warm box

  inside her familiar house.

  What else could a mother cat

  possibly need?

  Still . . .

  the silence worried her.

  What might

  an enormous dog

  who longed to have her babies

  as his own

  do

  next?

  Are you worried

  too?

  Will Gus hurt Patches

  and the kittens

  if he gets

  a chance?

  After all,

  some folks,

  if they can’t have what they want,

  don’t want anyone else

  to have it

  either.

  Or perhaps you are worried

  about Gus.

  When a dog

  has a name,

  he doesn’t seem

  quite so mean

  anymore,

  does he?

  And when you’ve seen

  the way he licked

  those kittens—

  so gently—

  well . . .

  maybe we should check

  on Gus.

  Just to make sure.

  Here’s what we’ll find:

  The big gray dog had simply run out of voice

  for howling,

  so he’d begun prowling the fence

  instead.

  Silent,

  sad,

  looking for a way out.

  He checked the hole

  he’d dug

  in the corner.

  But a tunnel

  just the right size

  for a small cat

  was no use to him.

  And though he tried

  to dig

  down

  deeper,

  he

  ran

  into rock

  and had to give that up.

  He couldn’t climb over the top,

  either.

  One paw got caught in the mesh

  when he tried,

  and it took him several minutes

  to pull it out.

  Still

  he kept walking

  back

  and

  forth

  checking

  this

  and

  that

  until at last

  he stopped

  at the gate.

  Could the solution be so simple?

  With all the going

  in

  and

  out

  recently,

  someone had left the latch loose.

  Gus stood on his hind legs

  and touched it with his nose.

  Bump . . . bump . . .

  The latch fell away.

  A little push

  and

  the

  gate

  swung

  open.

  Gus stepped out

  onto the sidewalk.

  Free!

  Now,

  all he had to do was to find

  his cat

  and his kittens.

  But how would he locate them?

  He couldn’t follow the scent.

  Patches and her kittens had been

  lifted off the ground

  tucked away

  in the mail carrier’s bag.

  Gus sniffed the sidewalk

  and found

  nothing.

  Nothing,

  that is,

  except . . . one small mouseling.

  The mouseling had been so proud

  to lead Patches to her home

  and so proud

  to scare the girl

  and get Patches released

  again

  that when Gus

  finally stopped howling,

  the mouseling had decided to check.

  Perhaps the great gray dog

  needed his help

  too!

  Dog and mouseling

  faced each other

  on the sidewalk,

  and for just a moment

  the mouseling considered the possibility

  that he might have made a serious

  mistake.

  Gus was so very BIG!

  But then the little mouse gathered his courage

  and squeaked,

  “Do you want me to show you where they are?”

  And,

  of course,

  Gus wanted exactly that.

  So the enormous dog

  followed the mouseling through town,

  lifting his huge feet

  with great care

  and setting them down

  more carefully

  still.

  It would never do

  to step on a mouseling,

  especially one so eager to help.

  When they arrived at the house

  with the golden tree

  and the watching window

  and the bright-berry bushes growing

  around the base,

  the mouseling paused,

  and Gus did too.

  “Remember,”

  the mouseling said,

  feeling very solemn

  and very grown-up.

  “Remember what?”

  Gus asked.

  “If you only say, ‘Please,’

  she won’t eat you.”

  Then he helped himself

  to another bright-red berry

  and scurried home.

  What an idea!

  Patches eating him!

  If dogs could laugh,

  that’s what Gus would have done.

  As it was,

  he smiled.

  Dogs are very good at smiling!

  Then

  he

  sat

  down

  on the front porch,

  right next to the morning newspaper,

  to wait.

  The instant Patches woke,

  she knew.

  Gus was at the front door.

  Even with the door

  tightly shut,

  she could smell him.

  (I presume you haven’t forgotten

  about Gus’s smel
l.)

  As I’ve already mentioned,

  it wasn’t a smell she minded,

  except for the fact

  that it came with a dog

  who had tried to steal

  her kittens . . .

  and her,

  for that matter.

  But still,

  she did not want the smell—

  or the dog who came with it—

  in her house.

  So though Patches stayed

  in her cardboard box,

  watching over her kittens,

  she kept her golden gaze

  on the front door.

  Soon her man would get

  out of bed

  and open the door

  to get his newspaper.

  And what would Gus do?

  Dash inside

  and snatch

  her kittens

  away?

  If only she could warn

  her humans!

  (What a shame

  that humans

  can’t be bothered to learn to understand

  cat and dog!

  Or squirrel and rabbit and bird,

  for that matter.

  Whale and wolf,

  frog and snake

  would be useful

  too.

  How much gentler

  our world could be

  if we only knew how to listen

  to one another.)

  But Patches could do nothing

  but wait to see

  what would happen,

  her heart galloping

  in her chest.

  And exactly the thing she had feared

  took place.

  The man opened the front door

  without a thought

  for what might be waiting

  on the other side—

  except for his newspaper—

  Gus into house.

  and

  exploded the

  Before anyone could say,

  “Oh!”

  or

  “Help!”

  or even

  “WHOOPS!”

  the enormous gray dog

  was dashing through,

  his nose scooping up scents

  like a vacuum cleaner

  sucking dust.

  His very fine

  sense of smell

  took him straight to the kitchen.

  He skidded to a stop

  in front of the cardboard box

  that held Patches

  and her kittens

  and stood gazing at them all,

  his tail wagging fiercely.

  (The back-and-forth sweeps

  of his whiplike tail

  knocked

  a pepper grinder,

  two place mats,

  and a sugar bowl

  off the kitchen table,

  but he paid no attention.)

  Patches leaped to her feet.

  Seeing Gus standing over her—

  and her babies!—

  brought back the memory

  of a heavy paw

  pressing on her back.

  Even worse,

  it brought back the moment

  when Gus had held her kittens

  between his paws

  and said,

  “MINE!”

  So Patches brought out

  the only weapons she possessed.

  She puffed her tail,

  arched her back,

  and rumbled a growl in her throat.

  G-R-R-R-R-R-R!

  Followed by a hiss.

  Sha-a-a-a-a!

  Her

  curving

  claws

  slipped out of their sheaths.

  Gus was amazed,