“Thank you,” I said. “That’s the grossest thing that’s ever happened to me.”
“You’re just like a cat — not a fan of getting wet,” Alfreeda said.
“I like getting wet. If the water’s clean, that is,” I said. “But Frankie wouldn’t care if it’s dirty. I bet he’s in the drainpipe.”
“Go wash off that mud and slime, Tabitha,” Grandma Kit said. “Alfreeda and I will keep looking.”
“I just want to peek in the other end of the pipe real quick,” I said.
First Grandma Kit shook her head. Then she said, “Okay. This time, though, lie on your stomach, on the road, and look down into the pipe from the top. Alfreeda and I will hold your feet so you don’t fall.”
I did what Grandma Kit said. I carefully leaned over the edge of the road and looked into the dark pipe.
“Frankie?” I called. “Are you in there, buddy? Say something!”
Still nothing. Just frogs.
“He’s not in there,” I said over my shoulder.
Alfreeda helped me up, and the three of us walked back to the farmyard. I needed a long, hot shower. But for now, I just washed myself off with the cold water from the garden hose. We had to find Frankie.
“Where else might Frankie go for a swim?” Grandma Kit asked.
“Cheesecake’s water tub?” I said.
We hurried to the cow’s large drinking tub.
“Not here either,” I said.
Grandma Kit groaned. “This is not good, girls,” she said. “Tabby Towers could be in big trouble. If we lose Frankie, no cat owner will want to use our hotel ever again. They won’t think it’s safe.”
“Wait,” I said, snapping my fingers. “Bengal cats love playing in water, and they love fishing.”
“No way,” Alfreeda said. “Cats don’t like getting their paws wet. At all. And they’d never want to do anything really fun, like go swimming or fishing. Not like dogs.”
I wanted to shout, “Wrong!” But I didn’t. Instead I said, “The lake. Lake Dee-Oh-Gee. Cats have a strong sense of smell. I bet Frankie could smell the fish in it from here.”
“Yes!” Grandma Kit clapped her hands. “C’mon, let’s hurry, girls. We have to get to Lake Dee-Oh-Gee and find Frankie!”
Chapter 5
Fishing for a Plan
I ran down a long, winding path through the meadow. Then I entered the dark, cool woods and raced down the path toward the lake. Alfreeda and Grandma Kit followed.
I leaped around trees, over rocks, and around huge green plants. I looked over my shoulder. Grandma Kit must’ve tripped over a root. Alfreeda was helping her up.
When I reached the edge of the woods, I looked down the long shoreline of the lake. And there he was — FRANKIE!
The runaway cat stood in the lake, staring at something in the still water. The water came up to his belly.
I lay on the sand, in tall weeds, so I wouldn’t scare him away. My nose filled with the horrible smell of dead fish. I pinched it shut and heard Alfreeda behind me, chattering. I looked over my shoulder and put my finger to my lips.
“Shhh,” I whispered. “Frankie’s here. Tiptoe. Lie down.”
Alfreeda and Grandma Kit crept over and lay in the weedy sand beside me. They both wrinkled their noses.
“Ew, it stinks,” Alfreeda said, pinching her nose with her fingers.
“Like a hot beach covered in long-dead fish,” Grandma Kit whispered.
That’s what it was, exactly. Several dead fish floated near the shore of Lake Dee-Oh-Gee. A few had washed onto the sand close to where the three of us lay.
“Where is he?” Alfreeda whispered.
I parted the weeds and pointed.
“Oh wow!” Alfreeda gasped. “It’s a wild cat! There haven’t been wild cats around here in a long time. Or is it a leopard? Maybe it escaped from the zoo! Take a picture with your phone, Mrs. Felinus. That’d be awesome for the front page of the town newspaper.”
“No, dear,” Grandma Kit whispered. “That’s not a full-blooded leopard. That’s Frankie. He’s a Bengal. Bengal cats are part leopard.”
“Really?” Alfreeda looked surprised.
Grandma Kit and I nodded.
“Wow.” Alfreeda whistled quietly. “Beautiful.”
“He certainly is,” Grandma Kit said. “His owners really love him too. We have to catch him. But how are we going to do that, without scaring him off? If he runs into the woods at the other side of the lake, we may never find him.”
My heart raced. I had to come up with a plan to help Grandma Kit, Tabby Towers, and Frankie.
I fished around in my brain for a plan. Frankie kept sticking his paw in the water.
Suddenly he slapped a little fish right out of the lake. It flew toward the beach and plopped in the sand. Frankie leaped after it. He pawed the fish and bit it once. But he didn’t eat it. He must not have been hungry. I knew that hunger had nothing to do with a cat’s instinct to hunt or fish. Eating and hunting instincts came from different parts of a cat’s brain.
Frankie tiptoed back into the lake. He stood still again, staring into the water below his chin. Then he slapped out another fish, and it landed in the sand.
“A fishing cat?” Alfreeda whispered. “This is crazy. Frankie has to be part dog.”
“No, he isn’t!” I snapped. “He’s part Asian leopard, okay? Asian leopards swim and fish in the wild. Frankie has those instincts too. All Bengal cats do.”
“I don’t believe it,” Alfreeda whispered. Her voice sounded annoyingly squeaky, thanks to her plugged nose. “Everyone knows that cats hate water.”
I frowned. I opened my mouth to say something mean, but Grandma Kit gave me “the look.” It was the one she often shot in my direction when Alfreeda was around. The look meant: Tabitha, be nice. We’re neighbors.
I shut my mouth. Still, the hair on top of my head stood on end.
How can I sneak up and grab Frankie from behind? I wondered. There wasn’t a bush or tree on the beach. He would see me coming.
I plugged my nose tighter. The stink was making it hard to think.
Then I realized something. I didn’t have to sneak up at all. “That’s it,” I whispered. “I know how we can catch Frankie.”
Chapter 6
Baiting the Big Kitty
“What’s the plan, Tabby Cat?” Alfreeda asked.
“I’ll show you,” I said.
I picked up one of the very smelly, very dead fish out of the weeds. I held it by the tips of my pointer finger and thumb.
“Yuck!” Alfreeda said.
“I’m going to bait Frankie the Fishercat with his favorite smell,” I said.
I held the fish far in front of my face and tried not to breathe.
I started to crawl across the sand, on my stomach. I crept very slowly toward Frankie. Without making a sound, I moved a few inches at a time.
Then I noticed Alfreeda was following me. I almost groaned out loud.
She crawled across the sand behind me. She held a dead fish too, plugging her nose with her free hand.
“Stay back,” I whispered. “You’ll scare Frankie away.”
“It’s double the dead-fish stink,” she whispered back. “He’ll jump at us, trying to get the fish. Then I’ll grab him.”
I wanted to yell, “No! I’m going to save Frankie!” But I didn’t dare yell.
I took a couple deep, quiet breaths and tried hard to calm down. Grandma Kit began to crawl behind Alfreeda. She held a dead fish too.
Quiet as three cats prowling toward prey, we crossed the sand.
When I got close to the water, Frankie raised his head. He turned slowly. He stared at the fish hanging from my fingertips.
Suddenly he leaped at me.
I jumped up and tossed the dead fish over my shoulde
r. I raised my arms and spread them wide, ready to catch the flying furball.
He flew straight at me, like an orange and brown rocket.
Just then, Alfreeda’s hip bumped mine. I fell sideways and landed in the sand.
“Hey!” I yelled. “You did that on purpose!”
“I’ll get Frankie,” she said, dropping her dead fish. “I caused this problem. I’ll fix it.”
Alfreeda raised her arms high in the air to catch Frankie.
Chapter 7
Kicking Cat Legs
Frankie landed with a thud on Alfreeda’s chest. It was like she’d been hit by a sack of potatoes. She lost her balance and fell backward, onto the sand.
“Oomph!” Alfreeda said, trying to hold Frankie in her arms.
He meowed and wiggled and twisted, trying to break free.
“He’s so strong and heavy!” Alfreeda cried. “I can’t hold him. Help!”
I dropped to my knees and reached into the tangle of kicking cat legs. I slid my fingers under Frankie’s collar and held on tight.
“I’ve got him,” I said in a soft, quiet voice. “You can let go, Alfreeda.”
“No, you can’t hold him by yourself, Tabby Cat!” she shouted. “It’s like trying to hug a mountain lion!”
“Shhh, you’ll scare him,” I said in my most gentle voice. “I’ve got his collar. I’ll take him. It’s okay. You can let go.”
Alfreeda sighed. Finally, she let go.
Frankie snuggled right up to my chest. His little heart pounded against mine. Still, I kept my fingers locked around his collar.
“Good work, girls,” Grandma Kit said. “Let’s go home.”
She led the way to Tabby Towers, holding a dead fish in front of Frankie and me. The smell was horrible but worth it. He didn’t try to wiggle out of my arms at all.
Five minutes later, we reached Tabby Towers.
“You found Frankie!” Mrs. Wolfe cried. “That’s great!”
“Yes,” Grandma Kit said. “But now Frankie knows a lake is nearby. I’m afraid he will try to escape again. We’ll have to watch him every second when he’s out of his condo.”
“Would it be helpful if Alfreeda stayed a while and watched him?” Mrs. Wolfe asked Grandma Kit.
Oh no, I thought. Even more time with Alfreeda? This day just keeps getting worse. I felt like telling the grown-ups, “Trust me, Alfreeda will not be useful around here. She will just cause more trouble.” But I kept my mouth shut.
“That would be helpful, Winifred,” Grandma Kit said. “Tabitha needs a shower and clean clothes. While she’s upstairs, Alfreeda can watch Frankie. Thank you.”
“Okay!” Alfreeda grinned. “I have to wash my hands first, though. They stink.”
Mrs. Wolfe promised to finish cutting Grandma Kit’s hair that evening, then she left. I set Frankie on the kitty swing and gave him a gentle push. But he jumped right off. He ran straight to the door that led to the kitchen. He pawed the door, over and over, and cried super loud.
“He wants to go back to the lake,” I said.
“You’re right,” Grandma Kit said. “But he can’t. What on Earth are we going to do with a cat that loves to fish and play in water? Frankie is going to be here for a whole week.”
“Grandpa Tom might have some ideas,” I said. “Should I wake him up?”
“No,” Grandma Kit said. “He finally came to bed about two o’clock this morning. As usual, he played hunting games with the kitties until very late.”
“Does he ever play fishing games with them?” I asked.
“I expect so,” she said.
“Well, that’s what Frankie wants,” I said. “I’ll go take a shower and then look in my cat books. They’re full of ideas.”
“Good plan,” Grandma Kit said.
I headed upstairs, took a fast shower, and changed into some clean clothes. Then I got busy reading.
I flipped through one book and then another. And another. And another. Finally I turned a page in my fifth book and stared at the picture I saw there. “That’s it,” I said.
I tucked the book under my arm and ran back to Tabby Towers.
Chapter 8
A Purr-Fect Week
I showed the picture to Grandma Kit.
“That’s a great idea,” she said. “Frankie would love it. We have the supplies — except the kiddie pool. The Wolfes have a few in their doggie play yard. Run over and ask to borrow one. I’m sure Winifred will say yes.”
“Can’t we just ask Alfreeda?” I said, looking around the room. “Where is she?”
“She had to go home and help for a while,” Grandma Kit said. “Winifred called and said they’re having trouble with a sheepdog.”
The Hound Hotel kennel building was at the end of the Wolfes’ long driveway. I rang the doorbell and headed inside. The doorbell sounded like a crazy little dog barking at a mail carrier. YIP! YIP! YIP!
“Hello?” I called when the yipping stopped. “It’s me, Tabitha.”
“Come on back into the hallway, Tabby Cat,” Mrs. Wolfe said.
I hurried past the front desk and into the hallway. A very big, very dirty sheepdog sat in the middle of the floor. Mrs. Wolfe, Alfreeda, and her twin brother, Alfie, were pushing on the dog’s back. He wasn’t moving. At all.
“Come on, Harry. Be good,” Alfreeda said. “Everything’s going to be okay.”
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
Mrs. Wolfe shook her head. “We can’t get this big guy into the grooming room,” she said. “He needs a b-a-t-h.”
“We can’t even say the word out loud, or he cries his head off,” Alfie said.
“A dog that doesn’t like b-a-t-h-s?” I said, looking right at Alfreeda.
She looked at me, then looked away quickly. I smiled.
“Oh, yeah,” Alfie said. “Harry hates them. He doesn’t even like getting his paws wet.”
Alfreeda looked at the ceiling and started to whistle quietly.
“Hmm,” I said, still staring at her. “I thought dogs loved being in water. I guess all dogs are different. Just like cats.”
“Very true,” Mrs. Wolfe said. She gave Harry another push. He still didn’t move.
“Mrs. Wolfe, can we borrow one of your kiddie pools?” I asked. “We need it for Frankie.”
“Of course,” she said. “Just go out the back and grab one from the yard.”
“Awesome. Thank you!” I said. “Good luck with b-a-t-h time!”
Back at my grandparents’ house, I sprayed the pool with a hose until it looked like new. Then I took it into Tabby Towers and set it in the middle of the room.
“Is this a good place for Frankie’s fishing pond?” I asked Grandma Kit.
“Couldn’t be better,” she said. “He’ll get water on the floor, but that’s not a problem. We’ll add floor wiping to your list of hotel chores this week.” She smiled at me.
“Fine,” I said, smiling back at her. “If it makes Frankie happy, it makes me happy too.”
Next, Grandma Kit and I headed to the meadow with a wheelbarrow and two shovels. We dug up rocks of all sizes. After we cleaned them, we carried them inside. We set the largest rocks around the edge of the “pond.”
“Frankie can sit on these rocks and get a good view of the fish,” I said. “Let’s set up the fountain now.”
My parents had given Grandma Kit a garden fountain for her birthday. She hadn’t even opened the box yet. I got out the fountain and set it in the middle of the pool. Grandma Kit read the instructions out loud.
After we got the fountain hooked up, we piled smaller rocks around the base of it. Then we piled the smallest rocks up the sides.
By then, Grandpa Tom had walked in. He yawned, rubbed his eyes, and sipped a cup of coffee. I showed him the picture in the book. Suddenly he looked wide-awake.<
br />
“An indoor fishing pond for Frankie, our special Bengal?” he said. “Wonderful idea!”
“Can you cut a bunch of fish out of wood?” I asked. “I’ll paint them.”
“Sure,” Grandpa Tom said with a grin. “Let’s get started.”
I stood in Grandpa Tom’s workshop, plugging my ears. He was using his super-loud saw to cut fish shapes out of wood.
Better to be plugging my ears than plugging my nose, I thought. These fish won’t stink.
Grandpa Tom cut fifteen thick wooden fish. “These will float like live fish,” he said. “Thinner wood would make them float on their sides, like dead fish. Frankie will be more interested in live prey.”
Grandpa Tom and I sanded the edges of the fish so they were smooth. Then we got the quick-dry paint. We chose colors that cats can see best: blue, violet, and yellow-green.
I painted the fish in big, colorful patterns. I just knew they’d catch Frankie’s eyes — and he’d want to catch them.
Back in Tabby Towers, Grandpa Tom and I dumped buckets of water into the pool. We filled it about three-quarters full.
“The fountain pump will recycle all the water,” he said. “I’ll plug it in and make sure it’s running safely.”
Grandpa Tom plugged in the fountain. Water from the pool bubbled out the top. It flowed down the sides, over the rocks, and back into the pool. The sound woke Frankie from his nap. He meowed loudly and pawed on his door.
“See what we made for you, buddy?” I said, taking him out of his condo. He leaped out of my arms and landed beside his very own little fishing pond.
I dropped the wooden fish into the pool. The fountain made tiny waves, and the fish bobbed. Frankie fixed his eyes on a blue and violet one.
He stood on a rock, still as stone. He stared at that fish. Slowly, he crept into the water and slid his paw under it. It stopped bobbing, and Frankie slapped it out of the water. It landed on the floor. Frankie jumped over and bit it. Then he leaped back to the pond to hunt for more fish.
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