Ava and Taco Cat

by Carol Weston

  Mrs. Bates was helping him find a book about a boxer. She’s good at helping kids pick out books. When Chuck saw me, he came over, so Mrs. Bates started helping Pip instead. She was telling her about some “new YA paperbacks.” YA stands for young adult. (Confession: I don’t think of Pip as a Young Adult. I think of her as a Big Kid.)

  Well, I told Chuck about our new cat, and he told me a joke:

  Question: Why did ten cats jump off a bridge?

  Answer: They were copycats.

  He expected me to laugh, but I said, “That’s not funny. That’s sad.” I was picturing a soggy bunch of forlorn felines.

  He said, “Ava, it’s a joke, and besides, cats have nine lives!”

  I rolled my eyes, and he asked what I was going to buy. I said, “A pen,” and he helped me pick out a striped pen covered in orange and black velvety cloth with a tiger’s head.

  “What’s a cat’s favorite color?” he asked.

  “What?”

  “Purrrrple!”

  This time I did laugh, and I also poked him in the ribs and he poked me back. I asked what happened to his chin (he tripped), and then he said he had to go because his mom was waiting for him.

  Pip was still “browsing,” so I found a coffee table book about cats in paintings and took it to an alcove with giant pillows. The origami snowflakes I’d made for Mrs. Bates last month were still on the walls. Meow Meow came and stretched out by my feet, and even though I wanted to check on Taco Cat, I felt happy with Meow Meow, waiting for Pip and looking at colorful cats.

  I’ve liked Bates Books since I was little, even before Bea and Ben switched into our middle school.

  It’s true that I like short books, not long books, and that I am not an “avid reader” like Pip. But I really like bookstores—especially cozy ones with fluffy cats.

  If I ever had to be stuck—stranded!—overnight somewhere and I could pick where, I would definitely pick a cozy bookstore.

  I could see how a kid might think she’d want to spend the night in a candy store, but that would get boring and you’d end up with a stomachache. A rescue center might sound fun, but that would get noisy and you’d feel sorry for the animals. And a zoo or an amusement park would definitely get creepy at night.

  But a bookshop, if you kept all the lights on, could be nice.

  And you wouldn’t get bored. Even if you were locked in for hours! Plus, if you got lonely at night, you could read Goodnight Moon or Owl Moon or Many Moons or Kitten’s First Full Moon or any bedtime book, even one without a moon or a cat. And if you got tired of reading, you could look at pop-up books and coffee table books.

  I started thinking about words on screens versus words in books. Like, with texting or Facebook, you can read what people are thinking right that very second. But with books, you can read what people took ages to think about. Some authors take years and years to write a book that a reader can gobble up in hours, which, for the reader, is a very good deal.

  Paintings are like that too. An artist works on them for a long time, but you can enjoy them in a short time.

  Anyway, even though I was enjoying looking at cat paintings with Meow Meow, after a while I wanted to check on my own cat, so I showed Pip my favorite pages then said, “Let’s go.”

  Pip said okay, and she bought two books and I bought my pen and we went home.

  Guess what? We hadn’t missed a thing because Taco hadn’t come out from under the sofa!

  He still hasn’t!

  Dad said we need to be patient. Mom said you can’t rush a cat.

  Since Dad had told Pip and me about writers and cats, I told Dad and Mom about artists and cats, and the book I’d been looking at. I said that Goya painted spooky cats, and Picasso painted pointy cats, and Renoir and Cassatt painted soft, cuddly cats. I also said, “If Pip drew Taco, it would be a drawing of a sofa.” Everybody laughed.

  Ava, Amusing

  1/2

  Saturday night

  Dear Diary,

  Maybelle invited me over after lunch, but I was positive Taco was going to come out and I didn’t want to miss the big moment, so I said I couldn’t. What I didn’t know was that Taco was planning to spend the whole entire afternoon under the sofa!

  At night, when we’re asleep, he creeps out and eats and uses the litter box. But during the day, all he does is hide. I’ve been getting on the floor and lifting the flap of the sofa to check on him. It’s like lifting a curtain, except there’s no show.

  At least he doesn’t hiss or grumble or growl. He just stares. And sometimes backs away.

  I want Taco to be happy, but I wish he’d hurry up about it!

  Ava, Impatient

  1/3 (which looks like one-third

  but means January 3)

  Sunday morning, still in bed

  Dear Diary,

  Next to my bed, along with my diary, I always have Aesop’s Fables, and I just dog-eared the cat fables.

  Isn’t that funny: dog-eared the cat fables?

  I also reread “Belling the Cat.” Here’s how it goes:

  A bunch of scared mice come out of their holes to have an emergency meeting. They are trying to decide what to do about a hungry cat that won’t stop sneaking up on them. Finally a young mouse says he has solved the problem. “We should put a bell on the cat,” he states, “so we can hear it coming.” The mice all think this is a great idea—until a wise senior citizen mouse says, “And which of you would like to put the bell on the cat?”

  The moral: “It’s easy-peasy to have a great idea, but that’s just the beginning.”

  My great idea was to adopt a grown-up, scratched-up, funny-looking cat.

  What if it wasn’t a great idea? What if it was a horrible idea?

  Ava, Aggravated Aesop Admirer

  1/3

  Sunday evening

  Dear Diary,

  Maybelle called this morning to invite me to go with her family to the circus and dinner in the city. I knew that would take all day so I said I’d better stay home because Taco was bound to come out.

  Maybelle said, “Really? You sure?” She sounded disappointed.

  When I hung up, I peeked under the sofa, and Taco wasn’t even there! I looked all around the living room and downstairs, and he was nowhere to be seen. I searched upstairs and finally found him under Mom and Dad’s bed. I told Mom and Dad everything, and they said to call Maybelle right back and tell her I changed my mind.

  I did, but it was too late! Maybelle said she was sorry, but her parents had bought an extra ticket and wanted her to invite someone, and then Zara called, so she invited her.

  “It’s okay,” I said, even though of course it wasn’t. When we hung up, my throat was so tight, I could barely swallow. Why hadn’t I said yes to Maybelle?

  Pip could tell I was upset and suggested we work on Alphabet Fish. She said her art teacher, Ms. Richichi, says doing something creative always helps you feel better.

  Well, Pip and I worked on two pages, and it helped a little, but only a little. I think Pip might be more into this fish book than I am. Still, I did “I is for icefish” and:

  J is for jellyfish.

  The jellyfish looks like a clear parachute.

  Do you think it’s ugly or do you think it’s cute?

  Taco, by the way, is not ugly or cute. He is…invisible.

  Confession: I’m actually glad school starts up again tomorrow even though that will mean waking up early and having homework. I miss seeing Maybelle and Chuck. And I like English—though I’m not sure how I’ll feel about it now that Zara and Maybelle have started hanging out. (Did I used to think that Zara was invisible?)

  I am about to go to sleep. I wish Taco were next to me, purring.

  But he’s not. I don’t know where he is. I’m alone and trying not to be furious at myself for being too dumb to go to
the circus. Am I a clown??

  Sometimes at night, it’s hard not to think bad thoughts. Like: What’s wrong with me that all I wanted for my birthday was an injured old scaredy-cat? And what’s wrong with Taco? Is he a D-U-D?

  Grrrrrrrrrrr.

  While we were brushing our teeth, Pip reminded me that our next page is “K is for kissing gourami.” As a joke, I asked if she’d ever kissed Ben. She spat into the basin and said, “No!” Then she quietly added, “Not yet anyway.”

  I have to say, I am shocked. I can’t picture Pip kissing anyone.

  Then again, last year I could hardly picture Pip talking to anyone!

  Ava, Astonished

  1/4 (which looks like

  one-quarter but—oh never mind!)

  2:30

  Dear Diary,

  First day back in school! I’m in the library, by the big window.

  Homeroom was fun. People were talking about their vacations, and even though ours was a “staycation,” I got to tell everyone about Taco Cat.

  Lunch was not fun. Maybelle sat next to me wearing a string necklace with a M on it, then Zara sat down wearing a string necklace with a Z on it!

  At first, I thought they’d each gotten it for Christmas. Then I wondered: what if it wasn’t a coincidence? Had Zara copied Maybelle? Was she a copycat?

  Just to be nice, I said, “I like your necklaces.”

  Zara said, “We got them yesterday! We got matching bracelets too.” She put her hand out and dangled her bracelet. Maybelle put her hand out and dangled her bracelet. I wished I were at least wearing the rainbow bracelet Maybelle had beaded for my birthday, but I wasn’t, so I kept my hands down.

  They high-fived each other with their dumb dangly bracelets, and I felt like Taco: I wanted to run away and hide.

  Worse, they were talking about the circus—the ringmaster and tightrope walkers and miniature ponies and jugglers and acrobats. They said two kids from the audience got to help a clown spin some plates.

  “We loved that!” Zara said.

  Well, I did not love the way Zara was saying “we” about Maybelle and her. Maybelle and I are supposed to be the “we”!

  For once, I was glad that lunch period was ridiculously short. I don’t think I could have sat there one more minute fake-liking their matching stuff and hearing about the oh-so-fun circus I’d stupidly missed.

  When it was time for English, Maybelle and I sat down and Zara sat right next to us.

  Mrs. Lemons began a unit about haiku. Haiku are poems that started in ancient Japan. They’re pronounced “hi coo” and are made of three lines: five syllables, seven syllables, five syllables. Mrs. Lemons said they’re often about the natural world—“seasons, plants, and animals”—and the best ones use imagery and “give readers something extra” to think about.

  She gave us an example of a haiku that a poet named Basho wrote way back in the 1600s:

  Observed by daylight,

  the firefly is only

  a simple insect.

  Then she asked us to write one in class and one for homework.

  Since Mrs. Lemons once taught us that onomatopoeias are words that are spelled the way they sound, I tried to be extra creative. I wrote:

  The cries of cats are

  onomatopoetic:

  hiss, growl, meow, purr.

  We went around the room reading our haiku aloud. Maybelle’s was about constellations, Chuck’s was about icicles, and Riley’s was about her pony (of course). Well, since you are my diary, I hope it doesn’t count as boasting if I tell you that Mrs. Lemons loved my haiku. I swear, she wanted to marry it! (L-O-L)

  Chuck liked it too and said, “I bet Ava even spelled ‘onomatowhatever’ right!” Everyone laughed.

  Except me. I just smiled.

  Ava, Who Writes Haiku

  P.S. Writing haiku is more fun than writing fish rhymes.

  P.P.S. Writing in you is also more fun because a diary is like a really good friend who is always there and always listens and never goes off with anybody else.

  1/4

  bedtime

  Dear Diary,

  Taco Cat came out in the open today!

  At least that’s what Dad said. When Pip and I came home, Taco was back under the sofa, and all we could see was the tippy tip of his tail. Pip tried to lure him out with a phone charger cord, but he wouldn’t come. I tried to coax him with yarn, and he started reaching for it with his front paws, but the phone rang and he went back under again. (It wasn’t even a real phone call! It was a telemarketer!!)

  After a gross “Meatless Monday” starring sweet potatoes and tofu (which Pip and I used to call Toe Food), I kneeled down by the sofa and lifted the flap. I was remembering how Bea and I had helped Pip come out of her shell with our Pip Pointers. They included making eye contact, saying hi, paying compliments, and asking questions. So I looked right at Taco Cat, said hi, told him how handsome he was, and asked about his stitched-up ear.

  Taco did not say hi back, but he did blink at me. Twice. And I think he appreciated my attempt at human-feline communication.

  Still, his behavior is frustrating! It makes me want to growl.

  Mom said she is going to bring home some cat treats and that might help.

  I thought about this for a while then announced that we could set up a reward drawer (R-E-W-A-R-D-D-R-A-W-E-R). I said we could put treats in there for us too, like licorice for her, M&M minis for Pip, and bubblemint gum for me.

  Mom said the drawer should be just for Taco, but that maybe she’d bring home a cat brush too.

  Anyway, after being excited about getting Taco, then disappointed by how much he hides, I am hopeful again. Dad says I’m keeping the faith.

  Is keeping the faith like believing in happy endings?

  A lot of kids’ books have happy endings, but Aesop’s fables mostly have morals.

  Tonight, I got in my pajamas and tried to write the homework haiku. For a long time, I just looked out at the full moon, hoping for inspiration. Finally, I saw the old moon in a new way, so I started counting syllables on my fingers and wrote:

  The full moon tonight

  is caught in high branches, but

  it will find its way.

  Ava Wren, Patient Poet

  1/5

  before school

  Dear Diary,

  All of us were having breakfast (except Taco), and Dad said, “One of the best things about being a grown-up is morning coffee.”

  For some reason, I counted that out, and I said, “Hey! That’s a haiku!”

  Mom said, “A haiku?”

  “It’s 5-7-5!” I repeated the sentence aloud: “One of the best things / about be-ing a grown-up / is morn-ing cof-fee.”

  Dad smiled but said that even though it was the right number of syllables, I couldn’t call it a “real haiku” any more than someone can read a phone book onstage and call it a play. “There’s math, and then there’s poetry.”

  I said, “Number one, phone books are only in old movies. And number two, I know about real haiku.” I told him Basho had written over a thousand of them.

  Pip said her Spanish teacher told her a Spanish palindrome: Anita lava la tina (A-N-I-T-A-L-A-V-A-L-A-T-I-N-A). It means: Anita washes the tub.

  I said, “W-O-W.”

  Mom said we’d all better hurry up or we’d be late to school.

  Ava Wren, Haiku Expert

  1/5

  after school

  Dear Diary,

  In school, we read our haiku aloud, and Mrs. Lemons said, “Ava, that is a real haiku!”

  I felt proud—until I noticed Zara whispering to Maybelle. They were wearing their stupid matching bracelets.

  Is Zara trying to take Maybelle away from me? Is she succeeding??

  At the end of class, I decided to talk to M
aybelle. But Mrs. Lemons said she wanted to talk to me, so I had to stay behind while Maybelle and Zara walked out together.

  Mrs. Lemons asked if I thought Pip might want to make a poster of my moon haiku to hang in the hallway. She knows Pip is artistic because Pip used to be in her class.

  I said I’d ask then tried to catch up to Maybelle and Zara. But I didn’t see them anywhere! It made me feel all alone even though there were kids everywhere. It just hurts when your old friend makes new friends.

  Back home, Pip said sure to illustrating my moon-in-a-tree haiku, so she got out thick poster paper and we started working quietly at the kitchen table.

  Guess who came creeping over? Taco Cat!

  I thought he was finally going to say a proper hello! And I liked his timing because I needed a cat cuddle. But all he did was sniff my sneakers—then dart inside an empty grocery bag.

  Did he come out of his shell only to disappear into a bag??

  Doesn’t Taco know by now that I’d never try to hurt him? And why is everyone, from my cat to my BFF, running away from me?

  Well, Taco didn’t stay in the bag long, and when he emerged, I said, “Cat’s out of the bag!” which was funny if I do say so myself. Pip half-smiled, but I could tell she was deep in the world of her drawing. That happens to me sometimes too: I start writing and lose track of everything else.

  Ava, Author, not Artist

  1/5

  an hour later

  I wrote another haiku:

  January snow

  flakes floating flying falling

  whispering winter

  Ava, Alliterating

  1/5

  bedtime

  Dear Diary,

  Pip wanted to work on Alphabet Fish, but lunch was fish sticks and dinner was mahimahi, (weird word) so I said I’d had enough fish for one day.

  She said, “Oh, c’mon!”