Ava and Taco Cat

by Carol Weston

  Now we’re at the clinic, which would normally be closed. If regular people have a Sunday emergency, they have to drive to the animal hospital twenty-five minutes away. But Dr. Gross told Mom he’d meet us here.

  It’s strange to be sitting in the empty waiting room. It’s hardly ever empty. Mom said I could watch the “procedure,” but I was afraid to. I knew it would be better for me to write in you.

  Writing always helps.

  I’m actually writing with the “magic pen” Dad gave me, the silver one from the Dublin Writers Museum in Ireland, the one I almost lost. I barely use it anymore because I don’t want to lose it again. But I grabbed it for luck, just in case.

  Taco may need all the luck he can get!

  Why is it taking so, so long? I don’t like this!

  Ava, Agonizing

  1/17

  back home without Taco!

  Dear Diary,

  Poor Taco Cat has to stay at the vet’s without us! He’s back in a cage! On the drive home, Mom said that because there was blood in his pee, they have to be sure he doesn’t have a “urethral obstruction” which can be “extremely serious in a male cat.”

  Mom always sounds different when she talks about animals.

  She said Dr. Gross remembered Taco because of his “distinctive coloration” and the “lacerations” on his ear. He gave him an “antibiotic injection,” “anti-inflammatory medication,” and anesthesia. And Taco conked out, which meant that at least he couldn’t feel anything. Mom said Dr. Gross did a “bladder radiograph” and “urine analysis” and blood tests too, because he had a UTI.

  “UTI?”

  “Urinary tract infection,” Mom said.

  “Is that bad?” I asked.

  Mom looked somber. “In some cats, it can be fatal, but I think Taco is going to pull through just fine.”

  “I’m scared,” I said.

  “I know,” Mom said.

  “Is Taco going to be okay?” I whispered.

  “I hope so,” Mom said, even though I’d wanted her to say, “Yes, of course!” She added, “Dr. Gross is an excellent vet.”

  I nodded but felt like sobbing. “Is this all going to cost a lot?” I asked. I don’t even know why I asked except that Mom and Dad sometimes worry about money, so I sometimes do too.

  “Dr. Gross will give us a discount,” Mom said. We were quiet for a moment, then she said, “You know what else he told me?”

  “What?”

  “He thinks having a pet has been good for me because it’s given me a greater understanding of how our clients feel when they have an emergency or an end-of-life decision.”

  “We don’t have an end-of-life decision!”

  “No, I don’t think we do.” Mom took another peek at me even though she was driving. “But I guess I never fully understood how attached people get to their pets. I never had a pet growing up.”

  “I know,” I said, then added, “I’m sorry,” because I felt sad for Mom-when-she-was-a-girl.

  “I really did want a Dalmatian puppy,” Mom admitted. “My best friend’s dog had a litter, and she wanted to give me one.” Mom smiled a soft, sad smile. “You know, when I first started working at the clinic, I was surprised by how much everyone talks to the animals.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Like, just now, Dr. Gross said, ‘Don’t worry, Taco. You’ll be your old self again soon.’”

  “You talk to Taco.”

  “I know. But I never thought I would.”

  It was nice talking to Mom in the dark car. “When will we know for sure that we don’t have an end-of-life decision?” I kind of wanted a guarantee.

  “Ava, you did everything right. Taco let you know that something was wrong, and you let me know, and I let Dr. Gross know. Everything’s going to be okay.”

  “Promise?”

  “I can’t promise.”

  “Mom, you know how cats have nine lives?” My voice cracked. “What if Taco has already used his all up?”

  We were turning into our driveway, and I hated that he wasn’t with us. I pictured him on the arm of the sofa, pricking up his ears, hearing our car, and heading over to greet us at the door. “Think about it!” I said. “He got attacked by a coyote, and he had a peeing problem—that’s two lives in three weeks! What if, when he was a kitten, he fell off a roof, or picked a fight with a raccoon, or—?”

  Mom drove into our garage and parked. Then she opened her arms and gave me a hug. For most moms, that’s probably no big deal, but my mom is not very huggy. It’s not part of her inner nature. Her mom, Nana Ethel, doesn’t hug at all. She gives stiff little pat-pats that are the opposite of bear hugs.

  I hugged Mom back and wondered if, as Dr. Gross said, Taco really was softening her up. I also wondered this: If Goldy Lox had died now instead of two years ago, would things have been different? Would Mom have let us give him a proper burial in the backyard instead of flushing him down the toilet?

  Well, “what’s done, is done,” I thought, which was me quoting Dad quoting Shakespeare.

  Mom and I walked in, and Dad and Pip were right there dying wanting to know everything. (I can’t believe I wrote “dying”!!)

  Mom told them that Taco had been “straining to urinate” and that I had done “everything right.” She said we’d get test results soon and, if all went well, we’d get Taco back tomorrow. We’d have to give him medication and “modify his diet” and get him to drink more water. Mom said it’s good Taco likes to drink from faucets since our house is heated and the air gets so dry in winter.

  I asked Dad if he knew where the expression “nine lives” comes from.

  He said no, but that Shakespeare used it in Romeo and Juliet. Then Dad found the exact lines and showed them to me (which was very Dad). They were in a fight scene when Romeo’s friend Mercutio calls his enemy, “Good King of Cats” and says he wants one of his “nine lives.”

  Anyway, I hope Taco stays fast asleep at Dr. Gross’s. If he wakes up in a cage, he’ll be so scared. (My bigger hope is that he wakes up!)

  Poor Taquito! (That’s Pip’s nickname for him—she says that in Spanish, adding “ito” means “little.”)

  Ava Without Taco

  1/17

  an hour later

  Dear Diary,

  Pip said we should do another page to distract ourselves. I didn’t want to, but Pip seemed upset and I didn’t feel like fighting with her. So I wrote a W rhyme and handed it over:

  W is for witch flounder.

  Some witches have cats, ride brooms, and cast spells.

  These witches are fish that swim among shells.

  Pip is now drawing a border with Halloween cats and witches on brooms. She’s also revising the borders from the early pages. Dad says writers have to do revisions (“Write and rewrite till you get it right!”), and I guess artists do too.

  I could do revisions on my earlier fish poems, but number one, I don’t feel like it, and number two, Pip already illustrated them the way they are.

  I’m glad Mom told me not to worry, but I can’t help but worry. I wish Taco were here! The house feels so empty without him!

  Ava, Anxious

  1/17

  middle of the night

  Dear Diary,

  An X rhyme just came to me so I turned on the penlight Bea gave me and am writing it down:

  X marks the spot where the fish swam away.

  What was it? Sunfish? Starfish? Moonfish? Moray?

  X-O-X

  A-V-A

  1/18

  right before school

  Dear Diary,

  I gave Pip my middle-of-the-night masterpiece, but she said X has to stand for a fish, not a spot. I said that she could draw wavy water and make a border of suns and stars and moons. She said she did not want a page without fish in the middle
of a fish book. I said, “Why not? It’d be funny.” She said, “I just don’t!”

  Well, instead of making a new X poem, I felt like making a giant X on Pip’s artwork.

  I felt like shouting, “I’m sick of fish and I’m sick of collaborating, and you’ll be lucky if I even write the last three rhymes!”

  But I didn’t feel like starting World War III, so I dashed off an “X is for x-ray tetra” poem and handed it to her. I’m not going to copy it in here because it’s not very good and the whole thing makes me mad.

  Ava, Annoyed and Argumentative but Attempting to be Adult

  P.S. Are Pip and I both in X-tra bad moods because we’re worried about Taco?

  1/18

  right after school

  Dear Diary,

  Taco is back!! Dad picked him up while we were at school. Taco must have missed us too because he started purring the second I hugged him and kissed his little snout! Poor Taco! Was he afraid he would never get to see us again? I was afraid I might not get to see him again!

  He greeted me by rubbing against my leg, then he jumped onto the arm of the sofa and settled in under the warm reading lamp. I petted him, and he purred, and I blinked at him, and he blinked back.

  We also bought him a get-well present: a small plastic fountain with a pump so he can always have fresh running water.

  I called Maybelle and told her Taco was better. She sounded happy for me.

  Weird that one month ago, I hadn’t even met Taco, and now I sometimes get sad or happy or scared because of him.

  Weird that one month ago, I hadn’t really noticed Zara, and now she affects my moods too.

  I’ve been thinking: Zara is not a terrible person. And it’s not terrible that she is outspoken (just like it’s not terrible that Pip is soft-spoken). It is, however, hard to get used to Maybelle having a close friend besides me. But maybe there’s enough of Maybelle to go around?

  Ava, Attempting to be Accepting

  P.S. Since Zara messed things up with Chuck, it’s not like I’m 100 percent accepting either.

  1/18

  bedtime

  Dear Diary,

  Pip kept pressuring me to write the Y and Z poems. I didn’t feel like it, and it’s only Monday. But Pip wouldn’t stop asking, so I finally wrote them. Here they are:

  Y is for yellowtail.

  The pretty yellowtail swims with speed and grace;

  If you ran and it swam, it would be a close race.

  Z is for zebrafish.

  Zebrafish have stripes that are shiny and blue;

  A zeal of zebras are black, white, and furry too.

  I hope Jerry Valentino likes our book even though, as Dad might say, it finishes with a whimper and not a bang.

  Frankly, I’m glad the English alphabet has only twenty-six letters. Pip says the Spanish alphabet is longer because of ñ (as in mañana) and ll (as in llama) and rr (as in guitarra) and ch (as in mucho). Mrs. Lemons once said that the Japanese language has three different alphabets.

  Anyway, my part is done. Z is for zebrafish and now Z is for zzzzzs.

  I wish Taco would sleep with me instead of going prowling around at night.

  At least he’s back home. Tonight he rolled onto his back asking for a tummy rub, so I rubbed his tummy. Fifteen seconds later, he wriggled upright as if to say, “How dare you rub my tummy?”

  He definitely has a mind of his own!

  Just now, I took a bath and the door creaked open. I thought it was Pip or Mom or Dad and was about to yell, “Don’t come in!” but it was Taco! He put his paws on the rim of the tub and stared at me. I went to pet him, but my hand was dripping wet, so he ran away.

  Ava in a Towel

  P.S. Tonight’s Meatless Monday was bulgur wheat and pea pods. Worst yet!!!

  1/19

  before school

  Dear Diary,

  Last night, I was almost asleep when I heard a sound in my room. What was it? Could it be? Yes! It was…Taco!! He came padding over and jumped right up onto my bed. I could hardly believe it!

  At first, he stayed near my feet. I didn’t want to scare him away, so I stayed stock-still. Then I drummed my fingers to invite him to come a little closer.

  He crept up and stopped just above my knee where I could pet him. He was almost out of reach, but I stretched out my arm and brushed his fur with my fingertips. He crept a smidge closer and stayed there for a few minutes. I thought he might let me curl up with him, but he turned around and faced my feet—in case he wanted to make a speedy getaway.

  Which he did, right as I was about to drift off.

  At breakfast, I told everyone that Taco had come to visit me. I was afraid Pip or Dad or Mom would say, “He sleeps with me every night,” or “I was wondering where he went.” But they didn’t. Mom said, “One night in a vet’s cage, the next in a bedroom. He’s no fool.” Dad quoted Charles Dickens who said, “What greater gift than the love of a cat.” And Pip just said, “You’re lucky.” I admitted that Taco stayed for only a few minutes, and by my knee, not in my arms. Pip said, “You’re still lucky.”

  I know I am. Taco is a good cat—and maybe he finally realizes that I’m a good kid.

  Ava, Lucky

  P.S. I have to hurry and get ready for school! Funny that today in the world, I’ll see lots of people, but the only people Taco will see are us. We are his world.

  1/19

  right after school (using my tiger pen)

  Dear Diary,

  I decided I should try harder to talk to Chuck, so I asked if he finished the book. He looked confused. I added, “The boxer one. The one you got at the bookstore.”

  “Oh right,” he said. “Yes, it was good.” He asked if I’d been using the tiger pen I’d bought. Well, that broke the ice, and I said, “Yes,” and then we both looked right at each other and smiled for, like, two seconds. Maybe even three.

  I was glad that just as a bad question can mess things up, a good question can fix things up. Or start to, anyway.

  “You’ll appreciate this, Ava,” Chuck said, opening his spelling notebook and digging out the test from last Friday. “I got a 75—but I got one of the bonus words right: ‘illiterate.’ So I’m not illiterate! I can read and write!”

  I laughed.

  “Is your 100s streak still going strong?” he asked.

  “It is,” I said, and might have blushed a little. Do I like Chuck a teeny bit? Or am I just relieved that we’re friends again?

  He showed me two words that he got wrong. He’d spelled “sophomore” “soft more” and he spelled “self-esteem” “self a steam.” I laughed, and the good thing was that he knew that I was laughing with him, not at him.

  Ava, Smiling

  1/22

  Friday after school

  Dear Diary,

  I was starving, so after school, I heated up some alphabet soup. I love alphabet soup. I always spoon out one A and eat it first.

  In school, when it was time to grade our spelling tests, we had to pick a partner. Chuck and I looked right at each other at the exact same time and switched papers without even saying anything. He got another 75 and I got another 100.

  One of the words he got wrong was “caterpillar.” In front of the whole class, he asked Mrs. Lemons, “What are caterpillars afraid of?” She hesitated, so he answered “Dogerpillars!”

  Mrs. Lemons laughed. The funny thing is that our math teacher, Miss Hamshire, never thinks Chuck is funny. She thinks Maybelle can do no wrong and Chuck can do no right.

  In the library, Pip and I gave our book to Mr. Ramirez to give to Jerry Valentino. I hope he can help us get it published!

  I wonder if Jerry Valentino has already started reading Alphabet Fish. If so, I wonder what letter he is up to?

  ABC Ava with Hopes and Dreams

  1/24

  4:21r />
  Dear Diary,

  It’s still light outside because the sun is staying out longer now than it did last month. I like long summer days more than short winter ones. Maybe everyone does?

  Dad made us all little Sunday sundaes. Even Taco was hanging out in the kitchen.

  Mom gave Taco his last dose of medicine (she’s way better at squirting it into his mouth than Dad is). Then she started taking photos of him.

  Dad said, “The cat as muse!”

  “Taco mews!” I said, as if we were playing the Homonym Game.

  “You guys are a-mus-ing!” Pip chimed.

  Taco pushed his forehead against my shin as if asking to be petted in return for all his posing. Mom took more photos, including one of Dad and Pip and me, and then stretched out her hand and took one of all four of us. It was not a selfie; it was a family-ie.

  Question: Has Taco made us more of a family??

  Ava, Musing and Amusing

  P.S. I think having Taco has helped us all be in a good mood. (Except on weekend mornings when Mom and Dad say he wakes them too early.)

  1/25

  after dinner

  Dear Diary,

  In the library today, Mr. Ramirez handed me an envelope from Jerry Valentino. I have to confess: when I opened it, I was expecting something very different.

  Mr. Ramirez could tell from my expression that Jerry Valentino didn’t think our book was about to take the world by storm.

  I’m going to staple the letter in here, even if it means I have to cut it in two. (Note: I might enjoy cutting it in two!)

  Dear Ava Wren,

  I was glad for the opportunity to take a look at Alphabet Fish, particularly because I remember meeting you at Misty Oaks Library last October and reading your unusual story about the queen bee. I am pleased to see that you are still writing and that you and your sister have been able to work together. It is clear that you both have talent and have gone to considerable effort. I applaud you for that.