Table of Contents
Cover
Half Title Page
Title Page
Adventures at Tabby Towers
Chapter 1: Furry FaceTime
Chapter 2: Keep Up the Stare-Down
Chapter 3: Big Crybaby Cat
Chapter 4: Furry Face-Off!
Chapter 5: Boots Become Gloves
Chapter 6: Cat-Paw Cuff
Chapter 7: Leave Me Alone!
Chapter 8: The Purr-Fect Plan
Is a Himalayan Cat the Cat for You?
Explore More
About the Author
About the Illustrator
Copyright
Back Cover
It’s Time for Your Adventure at Tabby Towers!
At Tabby Towers, we give cats the royal treatment. We are a first-class cats-only hotel that promises a safe, fun stay for all guests.
Tabby Towers has many cat toys and games. We make personal playtime for every guest. And we have a large indoor kitty playground that will satisfy every cat instinct, including climbing and hunting. Also, your kitty will never tire of watching our cow and chickens from the big playground window.
We are always just a short walk away from the cats. Tabby Towers is located in a large, sunny, heated room at the rear of our farmhouse. Every cat has a private litter box and a private, three-level “condo,” complete with bed, toys, and dishes. Of course, we will follow your feeding schedule too.
Tabby Towers Who’s Who
KIT FELINUS
Kit Felinus (fee-LEE-nus) is a lifelong cat lover. She has worked for cat rescue and shelter operations much of her adult life. After seeing the great success of Hound Hotel — the dog hotel next door — she realized the need for a cat hotel in the area. So she started Tabby Towers. She now cares for cats all day long and couldn’t be happier!
TOM FELINUS
Tom Felinus is certain that his wife, Kit, fell in love with him because of his last name, which means “catlike.” He is a retired homebuilder. He built Tabby Towers’ kitty condos, cat trees, and scratching posts. He built the playground equipment too, which will keep your kitty happy for hours.
TABITHA CATARINA FELINUS (Tabby Cat, for short)
Tabby Cat is Kit and Tom’s granddaughter and a true cat lover. In fact, the cat hotel is named after her! She helps at Tabby Towers in summer. The 8-year-old daughter of two veterinarians, Tabby lives in the city and has her own cat. She’s read almost as many books about cats as her grandma has! Tabby will give your kitty all the extra attention or playtime he or she may need.
Next time your family goes on vacation, bring your cat to Tabby Towers.
Your kitty is sure to have a purr-fect time!
Chapter 1
Furry FaceTime
I’m Tabitha Catarina — Tabby Cat, for short. Here’s the truth about me: My personal world does not spin around the sun. My world spins around cats.
That’s correct. I L-O-V-E, love them. Hairballs and all.
I’ve loved cats my whole life. Now I get to work with them every day at Tabby Towers. I’m such a lucky girl!
But there’s a problem. A big one. And her name is Alfreeda Wolfe.
I’m talking about the girl next door. She lives on a farm beside my grandparents’ place. Alfreeda L-O-V-E-S, loves dogs. That’s okay, but she thinks dogs are the best. I, on the other hand, am an animal lover. Although I love cats most, I think all animals are great. I would never say anything mean about a dog.
Alfreeda really drove me crazy a few weeks ago. It was the day my very own cat, Bootsie, traveled from the city to the country to join me at Tabby Towers.
As usual, Alfreeda bragged about dogs and put down cats. She even said unkind things about my sweet, beautiful Bootsie!
I’m sure you’re wondering if my “claws” came out. Well, get cozy, and I’ll tell you all about it.
It was early in the morning, toward the end of June. I sprang out of bed like a cat. I pulled off my pajamas and tugged on my leopard-print leggings and a Tabby Towers T-shirt.
I grabbed my silver locket. I opened it and kissed the tiny photo inside. It was a picture of my very best friend in the whole world — my cat, Bootsie.
I missed her so much. I’d been at my grandparents’ farm for two weeks. Two whole weeks without Bootsie! I’d never been away from her for that long. I didn’t know how much longer I could stand it.
I snapped the locket shut and kissed it again. I hung the chain around my neck and hurried to the bathroom.
First I cleaned my cat-frame glasses. I brushed my hair and pulled it into a high ponytail. I like it sticking up high, like the tail of a happy cat.
Then I brushed my teeth for two full minutes, because I, like a cat, like to be fresh and clean at all times. I smiled at the mirror, then looked at the kitty-cat clock on the bathroom wall. Good, I thought. I’ve got ten minutes before FaceTime with Bootsie.
Ten minutes was just enough time for something I needed to do. I leaped up the attic stairs and dug through boxes on the attic floor. Soon I found some old picture frames. I grabbed a small one. It didn’t have a photo inside. Purr-fect.
I ran back to my room and put my favorite photo of Bootsie into the frame. Her big blue eyes peered back at me.
“You’re so sweet and so beautiful,” I said out loud. “I miss you terribly, Bootsie! I wish I could talk Grandma Kit into letting you stay at the farm with me.”
I set the frame on my nightstand and grabbed my cell phone. Actually, the phone wasn’t mine. It belonged to my parents. I was allowed to call only them or my nanny, Pam.
I called Pam more often than my parents. She was cat-sitting Bootsie for the summer at our condo in the city. My parents were on location at a movie set. They’re both veterinarians. They care for animals that appear in movies. That’s their job.
Using the phone’s video app, I called Pam. “Hi, Pam,” I said. “Where’s Bootsie?”
“Good morning, Tabby Cat,” Pam said with a yawn. She sat up in bed and rubbed her eyes. “Is it seven o’clock already? Do our daily calls have to be so early?”
“Yes!” I replied. “There’s so much to do in the hotel. Once I get going, I’m busy all day.”
“I believe it,” Pam said. Then she called, “Here, Bootsie. Come and say hi to Tabby.”
Seconds later, Bootsie appeared on my phone. My heart leaped.
Bootsie looked as beautiful as ever. Long, tan, fluffy hair covered her body. The fur on her face, ears, tail, and feet was black. That’s why I’d named her Bootsie. It looked like she wore black boots.
“Good morning, Bootsie!” I said.
She blinked and started to cry.
Oh no, I thought. Not again.
Pam quickly pulled Bootsie away from the phone. But Bootsie kept meowing. She sounded so sad.
Pam looked at me and shook her head. “Maybe we shouldn’t do FaceTime every morning, Tabby,” she suggested gently. “Bootsie cries only when she sees you or when she hears your voice. Honestly, she’s been much better this week.”
A lump grew in my throat. I couldn’t reply.
“She really seems less lonesome without you now,” Pam said softly. “I’m taking the very best care of her. I’m brushing her every day, giving her a lot of treats, playing with her often —”
“But I can’t stand it anymore!” I cried. “I miss her too much!”
“We all agreed this is the best plan,” Pam said in her firm nanny voice. “Bootsie will spend the summer in her own home. She wouldn’t be happy at the farm, sharing space with all those other cats.”
“How do we know that for
sure?” I argued. “We could try! You could bring her here! I’m going to ask Grandma Kit again.”
“All right.” Pam sighed. “Just don’t be too sad if the answer is no.”
“Okay.”
I said goodbye, turned off the phone, and thought hard. I knew what Grandma Kit was going to say. But this time, I’d be prepared — with facts to prove my point!
Chapter 2
Keep Up the Stare-Down
Ten minutes later, I was sitting on my floor in a sea of nonfiction cat books.
The books belonged to me. I’d brought them from the city. Of course, I’d read them all already — many times.
Now I searched for important parts to read again. Parts about cats guarding their territory. Cats believe certain areas belong to them. They will do almost anything to keep those areas safe from other cats or to make those areas larger. Sometimes they’ll even fight.
The truth is, cats are more territorial than dogs. Of course, I’d never tell Alfreeda that. She’d brag about how some dogs are totally laid-back. Well! I’d point out that Himalayan cats, like Bootsie, are known as one of the most “laid-back” types of cats.
But right then, I had to talk with Grandma Kit, not Alfreeda. For about twenty minutes, I read about how to keep indoor cats from acting too territorial. Then I hurried to find Grandma Kit.
I tiptoed past my grandparents’ room. Grandpa Tom was still asleep. He’s nocturnal, like all the guests at Tabby Towers. He knows that cats hunt at night. It’s their instinct. So he always stays up late with our hotel guests. He plays predator-prey games with them. He makes them feel like they’re hunting in the wild.
I hurried down the stairs, through the living room, and into the kitchen.
I looked around for Scruffy. He’s Grandma Kit’s indoor-outdoor cat. He wasn’t in his bed by the oven. I figured he hadn’t come indoors yet that morning.
It’s not fair, I thought. Scruffy gets this huge house all to himself. He doesn’t even use most of the space!
Scruffy always spent daytime hours sleeping. At night, he hunted mice in the barn and fields. He would never share the house with my Bootsie. He was much too territorial. Grandma Kit had said so.
I sighed and knocked on the door beside the refrigerator. It led to Tabby Towers, at the back of the house. My grandparents had turned their large family room into the cat hotel.
“Tabitha?” Grandma Kit called through the closed door. “Is that you?”
“Yes!”
“All clear!” she called.
“All clear” meant no cats or kittens prowled near the door, ready to spring past my feet. I opened the door carefully then shut it quickly behind me.
Two cute kittens — Fifi and her brother, Furbaby — played on a little seesaw. Grandpa Tom had made the seesaw. It sat at the center of a large indoor kitty playground. Grandpa Tom had built everything in the fun play space.
A third guest, a beautiful Persian cat named Child, sat high on a cat tree. He peered out the picture window at the chickens in the farmyard.
Child had long, fluffy hair just like Bootsie. Even a quick glance at him made my heart hurt all over again.
Grandma Kit stood at the washtub, cleaning cat-food dishes. “Good morning, Tabitha!” she said and grinned.
I patted Fifi and Furbaby on their cute, soft heads. Then I hugged Grandma Kit. Right away, I got busy begging.
“I just saw Bootsie on my phone,” I said. “She cried again.”
“Don’t worry,” Grandma Kit said kindly. “She’ll get used to being away from you. Just give her time.”
“But I miss her!” I cried. “I want her here! I know she can’t share the house with Scruffy. And she can’t stay in my bedroom all summer. She wakes me up too much at night. But could she have one of the kitty condos in the hotel? There’s always at least one free.”
Grandpa Tom had built seven kitty condos. They were small, three-level apartments with screen doors and walls in-between. Each cat had its own safe, cozy, private space.
“Of course I’d be happy to let Bootsie have a condo,” Grandma Kit replied. “I don’t like to board more than five guests at a time anyway. But Bootsie wouldn’t be happy. She’d be too nervous here. She wouldn’t like living with other cats for weeks on end. You know how you’re an only child? How you need your quiet time because you’re used to it?”
I nodded.
“Well, it’s no different with Bootsie. She’s always been your only pet. She’s known the inside of your condo — and nothing else — her whole life. She hasn’t had to share anything with other cats. Bootsie will act territorial here. She’s a cat. That’s her instinct.”
“I know, Grandma,” I said. “I was just reading about that fact! Bootsie wouldn’t act territorial here at Tabby Towers, though. Cats fight other cats when there isn’t enough food or water. They fight when there aren’t enough warm beds or fun toys or litter boxes. Tabby Towers has more than enough of those.”
Grandma Kit smiled. “Ah-ha. You’re learning to think like a cat, Tabby Cat,” she said. “But there are lots of reasons why cats sometimes act very territorial.”
“Could we just try?” I begged. “Please?”
Grandma Kit’s smile faded. “Cats really are happiest and healthiest in their own territory, in their own home,” she said. “Pam is taking excellent care of Bootsie too.”
“Please, Grandma!” I begged.
She stared at me. I stared at her. She didn’t look away. Neither did I.
We both knew what a stare-down meant in the cat world. It meant a standoff — a silent battle between two territorial cats.
I kept staring. So did Grandma Kit.
My eyes stung and filled with tears. So did Grandma Kit’s.
I forced my eyelids open even wider. I refused to look away or even blink.
Unfortunately, Grandma Kit refused too. We’d both met our match!
Chapter 3
Big Crybaby Cat
Seconds passed. My eyes remained open. I simply refused to blink!
Grandma Kit refused too.
Then, suddenly, she turned her head away. She blinked and rubbed her eyes!
In a true cat-to-cat stare-down, the first cat that looks away is the loser.
“I won!” I cried. “Oh, thank you, Grandma!”
She laughed and gave me a hug. “You’re welcome, Tabitha,” she said. “But listen. Bootsie may really dislike Tabby Towers. If she can’t get along with the other cats here, Pam must take her back to the city. Bootsie could become too nervous here. It wouldn’t be healthy for her. Do you understand?”
I nodded. The thought of Bootsie having to leave Tabby Towers made me so sad. That won’t happen, I thought.
“So which condo should I put her in?” I asked excitedly.
“The one in the farthest corner,” Grandma Kit said. She pointed across the room. “Bootsie will feel more hidden there. I’m sure she’ll need a lot of alone time.”
“Well, I’m sure she’ll get along great with the other guests,” I said. “She’ll make friends.”
“We’ll see.” Grandma Kit got busy washing cat-food dishes again.
I dashed back to my room and grabbed my phone. I called Pam and told her the news.
“That’s wonderful!” Pam said. “I’ll start packing Bootsie’s things. We’ll be there in a couple hours.”
“I can’t wait!” I said. “Can I say hi to Bootsie again right now?”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Tabby,” Pam said. “I finally got her calmed down from your other call. Oh no! She heard your voice! She’s jumping straight at me!”
A furry rocket hit Pam’s shoulder. Pam fell sideways and dropped the phone. It landed on the floor. Two seconds later, Bootsie stood over it. She leaned in. Her cute nose almost touched the phone. I could see her whole be
autiful face.
She must’ve seen me, because she started to cry. Meow! Meow! Meow!
Pam grabbed the phone. “Okay, that’s enough for now,” she said. “Bye, Tabby! We’ll see you soon!” She turned off her phone, and Bootsie disappeared.
“Do you get a lot of phone calls from annoying cats?” a voice called from my doorway.
I jumped and spun around.
It was Alfreeda.
Ha! Who is she to call someone else annoying? I thought. She doesn’t ring the doorbell. Ever! And now she comes upstairs, totally uninvited, to my room! Where did she learn manners? From a litter of puppies?
“Who was that super-annoying cat?” she asked. “It sure is a big crybaby! I hope it’s not one of your hotel guests. That crying would drive you all crazy. Good thing most dogs aren’t crybabies.”
Before I knew what I was doing, I sprang off my bed. My face felt super hot.
“Don’t you call that cat a crybaby!” I shouted. “Sure, maybe cats cry sometimes. Big deal! So what? What about dogs? Lots of them whine and bark and howl so loudly they give people headaches!”
Every hair on my head stood on end. My fingers curled into tight fists.
I was all set for a full-on catfight! No one makes fun of my Bootsie!
Chapter 4
Furry Face-Off!
I’d never shouted at anyone in my life. I didn’t even know I was able to shout!
“Whoa,” Alfreeda said. She held her hands in the air. “I came over to see if you wanted to have a sleepover tonight. But I can see someone’s feeling catty. I better leave.”
“Yes, you better leave!” I snapped. “And by the way, that was my cat you just called a crybaby. She’s my best friend in the whole world. Nobody calls Bootsie mean names. Got it? Goodbye!”
“Oh. Okay. Sorry,” Alfreeda said, backing into the hallway. Seconds later, I heard the kitchen door shut behind her.
Boxing Bootsie Page 1