Chomps, Flea, and Gray Cat [That’s Me!]

by Carol Wallace

  Mama Mockingbird wove pieces of straw in and out of her nest. “Maybe so, but you make Papa Mockingbird awfully nervous when you try to look in our nest. Please stay away.”

  I started to walk off. “I’ll try to keep from climbing up, but I like to watch your little birds when they start to pop their heads out of the nest.”

  Strolling back toward the yard, I looked all around for Flea. Chomps and I would try to find her when Mama let us out later.

  I jumped up and grabbed the top of the gate with my front paws. I pulled myself up and balanced there for a moment. Chomps wagged his tail when he saw me. “Shouldn’t Mama be home by now? I didn’t get any breakfast. I’m hungry.”

  It had been a long time since Mama left. It was hard to tell how long, because the sun wasn’t anywhere in the sky. I looked around. Mama was taking too long. She said she would be right back.

  “I’ll go look for Flea and have her fly around. Maybe she can help us.” I pulled myself back over the fence. Then I headed out north of the apple tree, where Mama Mockingbird had told me Flea was building a nest.

  Meowing as loud as I could, I kept calling for my friend. I finally found her in a tall oak in the middle of the woods.

  Flea whistled back at me. “Hey, Gray. What are you doing?”

  “Would you go look for Mama? She was just going to be gone for a little bit, and she hasn’t gotten back yet. Daddy took the tractor and left, so he’s no help. Chomps is hungry and he’s stuck in the yard. You’re a lot faster than I am. You can look and see if she is on her way home yet.” I watched as the bird continued working on her nest.

  “This is my first nest, Gray. I have to get it just right. I’m sure Mama will be home soon.”

  “Please, Flea. I’m worried about Mama. It won’t take you long. Just make a quick fly around to see if she is on the road somewhere. She’s in the brand-new Range Rover, so she should be okay. If she was in that old car, it could be bad. Just check along the road for a couple of miles toward town.”

  “What if some bird comes along and gets my spot? I’ve been looking for this perfect place for a long time. I don’t want to lose it. Other birds are coming here every day. If one of them sees what a great place this is, she might take my nesting spot.”

  “Tell you what, Flea, I’ll climb up and keep your space for you. You haven’t done too much to your nest yet. If I stay here, no bird will get your spot.” I looked up at the fork between two limbs, where Flea had begun to gather her little pile of twigs.

  “Okay. But don’t you leave until I get back. Come on up.”

  I took a running jump, leaping to the base of the tree. Using my claws, I climbed to Flea’s nest. I was careful not to touch the twigs. Flea had been working very hard, and I didn’t want to mess anything up.

  “I’ll be back. You be here!” Flea was cranky now that she had found the spot for her nest.

  “I’m not going anywhere. It’s beautiful up here.” From high in the tree, I could see Flea as she swooped toward the road that led to town.

  Looking back at the house, I could see the apple tree where Mama Mockingbird was working on her nest. I could see the fence around the house. I could even see Chomps. Down the hill in front of the house, I could see the rock hill where Chomps and I had hidden from the storm. To the north was a small valley where cattle were grazing. The east side of the woods had more trees. I could see a little bit of pasture way beyond the forest, but mostly I saw limbs and branches.

  I was still enjoying the view when I heard Flea’s shrill cry.

  “Gray, come quick! Mama is in trouble!” Flea swooped toward me as fast as a streak of lightning. Her eyes were big and round. “The Mama’s car is in the water. The door is open, but I can’t see her anywhere! Hurry!”

  CHAPTER 9

  I knew something was wrong. Mama should have been home a long time ago. What could have happened to her? She was so proud of her new car. Why would she leave it in the water?

  I could hear Chomps growling and barking. “What’s wrong? What’s going on? Where’s Mama?”

  “Mama’s car is in the creek,” I meowed back as loud as I could. “I’ve got to help her!”

  “Come get me out of the yard. I want to go, too.” Chomps howled.

  “Push your way through the gate like you did last time.”

  I heard the gate rattle.

  “Gray, come back and help. I can’t get through. The Daddy must have fixed it when we were at Jeff and Amy’s. I can’t get out!”

  “I don’t have time, Mama needs help right now!”

  I ran down the driveway. Behind me, I could hear the little dog yelping.

  Flea swooped off for the low-water crossing. She kept a straight path down the road. Running as fast as I could, I didn’t even think about looking around to watch for cars. I was out of breath when I suddenly heard a thundering sound. Afraid that it might be a car zooming toward me from way back up the road, I moved to the ditch and stopped.

  It was Chomps!

  I had never seen him run so fast or hard. His little paws pounded the wet, hard-packed dirt, sounding like faraway thunder. “Let’s go!” he barked as he raced past me.

  Blinking my eyes, I yelled back, “How did you get out?”

  “No time to talk. We’ve got to help Mama!”

  We both raced off. Flea circled back to see what had happened to me. “Come on. We’re almost there.”

  I thought we might see Mama walking back to the house. When we got to the crossing, we still couldn’t see her anywhere. Chomps and I sniffed at the water where it flowed over the road. We could see her big car. The door was open and water was clear up over the wheels.

  I stepped carefully into the dirty churning stream.

  “She’s not there, Gray. I’ve already looked.” Flea landed on a small bush near the creek.

  “I’ve got to see for myself.”

  “The water’s running too fast,” Flea chirped, flapping her wings. “Look at all the limbs and stuff floating down stream. It’s too dangerous!”

  The water was cool and swift as I moved into the creek. I had to see for myself. Mama had to be there! Just then the push of the swift current knocked my feet from under me. Frantically I grabbed for the bottom. It was no longer there. I paddled with my feet as fast as I could. The water didn’t seem too deep, but I couldn’t get a hold of anything.

  I fought and struggled. The tumbling water pulled me under, but I clawed my way back to the surface.

  Flea swooped overhead yelling at me. “Swim to the bank, where the water isn’t as deep!”

  Chomps ran beside the raging torrent. “Be careful, Gray!” he barked. “Please. You’re scaring me. Get out! Get out of there—now!”

  I didn’t have time to meow and tell him that I couldn’t get out. Every time I tried to open my mouth, water got in and I choked and sputtered.

  As I paddled and clawed at the water, I suddenly began to feel colder. I couldn’t get my feet to touch the ground for even a moment. My whiskers and ears were soaked. My body tumbled over some limbs. I could barely hear Chomps yapping at me. I felt like I was far, far away from everyone I knew. Deep water seemed to surround me.

  I’d never been so scared. I’d never felt so alone.

  Then, when all hope was lost—when I knew I was going to drown and never see my family again—suddenly out of nowhere, a giant paw grabbed me. I fought to get away.

  “It’s okay, Gray. Calm down.” Mama’s voice soothed me. “I’ve got you. You’re gonna be fine.”

  Mama was in the water with me. She pulled me close to her body, then lifted me to a tree limb that hung out over the stream. Shaking my fur, I wanted to be as far away from that scary water as I could get. I made my way down the limb. But when Mama didn’t follow me toward the bank, I stopped. Behind me, she leaned down until just her mouth and nose were above the swirling brown water. She pulled at her leg with both arms. Then she let go and raised her head so the water wouldn’t get in her face.
>
  “Meow! Let’s go, Mama! We’ve been looking for you. We want to go home.” Mama just seemed to ignore me as she tugged at something under the water.

  I walked across the tree branch to the dirt. Frowning and worried, I looked back at her. Why wouldn’t Mama come with me? Why wouldn’t she get out of that scary water!

  Flea landed on a small branch next to me.

  “Why won’t Mama come with us?” I asked.

  Flea tilted her head one way then the other. “I think she is stuck,” Flea chirped. “She keeps pulling at something under the water, but it’s so muddy, I can’t tell what it is.”

  Chomps ran up to me. “What’s wrong?” He barked. “Why won’t Mama come with us?”

  “She’s stuck! She can’t get out!” I felt my eyes flash, as big around as my milk saucer. “We’ve got to get some help!”

  “We can’t leave Mama here by herself,” Chomps woofed.

  “Somebody has to get Daddy.” Flea waved her wings and jumped up and down on the small branch. “We can’t help her by ourselves. We’re not big enough to do anything.”

  • • •

  Flea scouted the fields for Daddy. When she got back, she led us down through the hayfield toward the rock hill. But we couldn’t cross the creek. Even the big log where Chomps and I always crossed was under water.

  “How can we get to the other side?” I meowed.

  “There’s an old wood bridge at the edge of the hayfield. I saw it when I was hunting for the Daddy. It’s out of the way, but it was dry when I last checked,” Flea said.

  • • •

  It took forever to get to the little wooden bridge. Water lapped at the bottom of it, and even splashed up between the cracks. Chomps and I never slowed down.

  “We’ve got to hurry.” Chomps panted. “The water is getting higher.”

  In the distance we could hear the rumble of Daddy’s tractor.

  Chomps and I were covered with mud. The little dog had a couple of sharp stickers in his paw. He never slowed down. He just kept running beside me.

  Water puddles covered the field. Finally we could see Daddy’s tractor pulling the old wagon toward us. He drove very slowly, looking back at the trailer. I stood in the path—smack-dab in front of the huge tractor. I meowed as loud as I could. But at the last second I had to jump to the ditch so he wouldn’t hit me. The enormous wheel just missed the fur on the tip of my tail. Following behind, I meowed and meowed and meowed. I guess he didn’t hear me. He never looked back.

  Chomps barked at him. Daddy didn’t seem to hear him, either. Chomps even ran up and bit the big round tires.

  Daddy just kept driving.

  Flea swooped back and forth in front of the tractor. Then she flew beside it for a little ways. Daddy didn’t even look our way.

  It was hopeless. No matter what we did, no matter how much noise we made, he still couldn’t hear us over the roar of the tractor. Chomps was so tired and out of breath that his tongue almost dragged on the ground. I huffed and wheezed, trying to catch my breath. Even Flea was tired. She fluttered down to land on a fence post.

  Mama needed help. Daddy was the only one who could help her. We had to get his attention. We had to do something!

  CHAPTER 10

  What can we do?” Chomps sniffed. “I’m so scared for Mama.”

  I nodded my head, agreeing with him. “Me, too. If we could just get Daddy to stop the tractor . . . just for a second . . .”

  Flea leaped from the fence post and swooped into the air.

  “I’ll stop him!”

  Flea took a flying swing toward the sky. She dived almost to the ground, right in front of Daddy. Then she did it again. Up and down, back and forth, she swooped.

  Flea finally whacked Daddy on the head with her beak. Her first snap wiggled his cap just a little. Even more determined, her second whack almost knocked Daddy’s cap off. He had to grab it to keep it on his head. Frowning, he pulled it off and looked all around.

  When Flea hit him again, she got him right on the bald spot at the back of his head. He yelled, leaped up from the tractor seat, and started waving his cap all around. Flea landed on the very front of the tractor and chirped as loud as she could.

  Daddy leaned over the steering wheel and swung the cap at her. When he saw he couldn’t hit her and when she didn’t move or fly away, he turned the big, noisy machine off so he could hop down and go after her.

  The instant the tractor stopped roaring and rumbling, Chomps raced toward him. He barked as loud as he could. I yowled at the top of my lungs.

  Cap clutched in his hand and ready to swing at the mockingbird, Daddy finally stopped and looked at us. “What is going on? You two are in serious trouble. What are you doing here?”

  Chomps howled. Daddy cocked his head to the side and frowned at him. Chomps growled in his deepest voice. Meowing, I raced up to Daddy and tugged on his pant leg with my claws. He shoved me aside with his foot. But I came right back.

  “What’s with you two? What’s all the noise?” Daddy asked as he reached down and picked me up. He smiled and rubbed my fur. “You guys must really be lonesome today. What are you doing all the way down here?”

  Chomps started bouncing around, then began running down the road toward where Mama was. Flea fluffed her little wings, then she made a huge screeching sound. I struggled to get away from Daddy. I jumped from his arms and landed near the front of the tractor.

  “Meow! It’s Mama!” I howled.

  “What is going on? I don’t have time to play, right now. I’ve got to get this hay out of the field.” Daddy turned and started back for the tractor.

  Suddenly I heard Chomps growl again. He wasn’t very far away, trying to lead Daddy toward the bridge. When he heard him say, “I don’t have time to play,” Chomps spun around and charged.

  Daddy’s eyes flashed as big around as his tractor tires when Chomps grabbed his pant leg. The pup growled—as mean as he could—then shook Daddy’s pants so hard I thought he was going to yank them off. Daddy’s mouth flopped open.

  Chomps let go. He spun around and raced toward the bridge, barking every step of the way. I chased after him, stopping now and then to look back.

  Daddy followed us.

  I didn’t know Daddy could run. After all, he was a people and he only had two legs. Besides that, he was kind of old, too. But I was very proud of him and the way he kept up with us. Flea made big circles around us until she was sure we were all headed in the right direction. Then she flew ahead to go check on Mama again.

  Daddy followed us, at a run, all the way across the bridge and up the road. But at the driveway to our house, he stopped. He coughed. He bent over and put his hands on his knees. Then he coughed and gasped for air again. Then . . .

  Then he started up the driveway toward the house.

  “Where are you going?” I yowled. “She’s not at the house. It’s this way. This way!”

  Daddy had his cap off so he could wipe the sweat from his brow. Flea stopped him. She whacked him on his bald spot again. He waved his cap in the air and called her bad names. Then Chomps growled and charged.

  Before he got there, Daddy turned and started following us once more.

  “Okay. Okay, I’ll follow you.” He put his cap back on and shook his head. “I can’t believe this. I’ve been chasing a dog, a cat, and a bird for almost a mile. I wish I knew what in the world was going on.”

  When we finally got to the low-water crossing, Daddy knew what was going on.

  The second he saw Mama’s Range Rover, he started out into the fast-moving stream. Flea clunked the bill of his cap with her hard beak. Chomps yanked on his pant leg. He looked around and the three of us raced down the creek bank. Daddy followed.

  With my sharp ears I could hear Mama yelling.

  We had to get a little closer before Daddy could hear. The moment he did, he began running. When he finally saw her, he ran even faster. He ran so fast that he shot right past me and then past Chomps. Flea wa
s the only one who beat him to Mama.

  Then, my heart sank when I saw what he did next. Daddy jumped into the water.

  Mama yelled, “NO!”

  Chomps barked.

  Flea squawked.

  I meowed.

  Daddy just jumped in anyway. He hugged Mama in his arms and tried to lift her. She flinched and yelled. Daddy felt around, under the water, with his hand. Then he took a deep breath. It scared me even more when he went under the water.

  But when he came up, Daddy had a big log in his hand. He lifted and shoved and pushed until the log turned, then tumbled out into the swift current.

  When Mama was finally free, she pulled herself toward the bank. Daddy climbed up right behind her.

  “How did you know where to find me?” Mama leaned against a tree and rubbed her leg.

  Daddy nodded toward me and Chomps. “These two. Never saw anything like it in my life. You talk about weird . . . They made me follow them. There’s a bird . . .” Daddy stopped talking and looked around in the trees. When Flea chirped, he smiled and pointed at her. “I think the bird was in on it, too. But for the life of me, I don’t know what a mockingbird is doing with Gray and Chomps.” Daddy turned to Mama and smiled. He gave her another big hug. “Anyway, they brought me right to you. I guess they knew you were in trouble.” He took her hand and gave it a gentle tug. “Come on. Let’s get you back to the house.”

  When Mama looked at us, she smiled. It was one of the sweetest smiles I had ever seen. “Come on, Gray and Chomps. You’re going to get treats today.”

  “What about me?” Flea chirped.

  As soon as we got back to the house, Mama went to the refrigerator. She got a really big piece of steak and cut it up into little bite-size pieces. She gave half of it to me and half to Chomps. Before she took a nice, hot bath, she got some birdseed out of the bucket by the front door and put it in the feeder on the pecan tree.

  While Mama was taking her bath, Daddy went to the box on the wall and started punching at it with his fingers.