by Tom Watson
“You are remarkable, it’s true,” Stick Cat said. “Why don’t we see if we can come up with a different idea. We’ll use the eat-all-the-batter idea as an emergency backup plan.”
Edith eyed Stick Cat dubiously.
Stick Cat could see Edith’s doubt in her expression and added, “You’re so good at coming up with ideas. I’d be shocked if you don’t come up with something even better anyway.”
“Figure out something that’s better than eating all the batter, hmm?” Edith said as much to herself as anyone. “Doesn’t seem possible. But if anybody can do it, I can. You’re right about that.”
Stick Cat began moving again. He sprang to the top step next to Edith and looked down at Hazel once more.
“Hi again, kitty,” Hazel sighed. She seemed a little short of breath—as if all that thick, heavy batter was pressing in on her, squeezing the air out of her lungs. “I see you have a friend.”
Stick Cat purred at Hazel and rubbed his cheek against her fingers again. He looked into Hazel’s eyes. They looked sad and empty. They looked tired and wary.
“I can’t hold on much longer,” Hazel whispered. “I can barely feel my fingers anymore.”
Stick Cat caressed Hazel’s hand one additional time and then leaned up close to Edith.
“We don’t have much time,” he said to her. There was a clear sense of desperation in his voice. Something about the way Hazel looked—and sounded—multiplied Stick Cat’s sense of urgency. “There has to be something we can use around here.”
Stick Cat hurried down the ladder and scanned the room for possible tools to use. Edith followed him. All he saw were the bags of cloud powder on the shelf next to the sink and hose. The long table had a block of large knives on it. The bagel sign hung over it. There was the large silver refrigerator.
There was nothing else—nothing useful at all.
As Stick Cat continued to look for something he could utilize, Edith offered a series of rapid-fire suggestions.
And Stick Cat offered a series of reasons why her suggestions wouldn’t work.
“We could tip the pot over,” Edith said.
“I think it must weigh hundreds of pounds.”
“Let’s build a boat.”
“No materials.”
“I’ve got it!” exclaimed Edith after several seconds. “We introduce her to a man. After a few months, they fall in love. They want to get married. He pulls her out to take her to the church on their wedding day.”
“There’s no man around.”
“How about if we get a fishing pole with a big hook on the end of the line? We throw it in the pot, hook Hazel’s neck or shoulder or face or whatever, and pull her out that way.”
“Hook her face?”
“Yeah. Whatever.”
“No fishing pole.”
Edith turned a squinted, almost angry eye toward Stick Cat. She was frustrated.
“You don’t like any of my plans,” Edith said, and took a menacing step toward Stick Cat. “You don’t take me seriously.”
“I love your plans,” Stick Cat said quickly, and tried to explain further. “I’m just not sure they’re very realistic.”
Edith huffed.
“Look, Stick Cat,” she said. “I think you’re forgetting just who rescued Mr. Music that one time. It was me who did all the important stuff that day.”
“Umm—”
“And what about the parachutes?” Edith went on before Stick Cat could say anything else. “Didn’t we float over here using my parachute idea? Didn’t we?”
Now, Stick Cat knew they didn’t actually “float” across the alley. He knew they slid over. But there was something that Edith had just said that ignited a hint of an idea.
“What did you just say?”
“My parachute plan worked. We floated over here.”
“‘Floated’?”
“Right. We floated.”
Stick Cat whispered, “Floated.”
And then he snapped his head around that near-empty room. He stared at the hose for a third of a second and then whipped his head around to stare at the bagel sign.
“Floated,” he whispered again—this time a little louder.
“Stick Cat,” Edith said. Her voice had gone from frustrated and angry to worried instantly. “What’s wrong with you?”
Stick Cat turned to Edith then. He looked straight at her.
“Nothing is wrong,” he answered. He smiled at her. “You’ve done it again.”
“Done what?”
“You solved the problem. You figured out how we’re going to rescue Hazel!”
“I did?” Edith asked. She seemed confused.
“You did! You’re a genius!”
Although Edith didn’t know what Stick Cat was talking about, she had plenty of confidence in herself as usual. She drew back her shoulders and lifted her chin in the air slightly. Then she said just one thing.
“Tell me something I don’t already know.”
Chapter 11
SNAP! SNAP! THUD!
“We need two things to make your idea work,” said Stick Cat.
Edith, you could tell, liked the fact that Stick Cat referred to their rescue strategy as her idea. The fact that she didn’t know what that idea actually was didn’t seem to matter at all. She took ownership of it.
“Of course we do,” she said to Stick Cat. Then she asked, “What two things?”
“The hose and the bagel sign,” Stick Cat answered as he leaped up to the top step of the ladder again. He wanted to check on Hazel one more time before putting the plan into action.
Hazel didn’t look good.
She had sunk a little deeper into the thick, heavy batter. Her shoulders were now under the surface. Her fingers had slid off the pot’s rim a bit. Her eyes were squeezed shut, as if she was concentrating very hard—hanging on with whatever strength she had left.
Stick Cat descended the ladder in two jumps. “The hose and the bagel sign!” he repeated.
“I’ll get the sign,” Edith said.
Stick Cat nodded and raced toward the hose at the sink.
After he bounded up and into the sink, Stick Cat uncoiled and detangled the hose. He pushed it out over the edge of the sink—and onto the floor.
When he was done, he whipped his head around to check on Edith’s progress with the sign.
He both saw her and heard her simultaneously.
“Ya-hoo!” she screamed.
Edith was inside the bagel sign, lying belly-down in its hole. Her arms were stretched out to her sides like wings. She shifted her weight forward and back to swing higher and higher.
“Edith! What are you doing?!”
She had a thrilled smile on her face.
“I’m getting the sign . . .”
Snap!
Snap!
The two thin strings that suspended the bagel sign from the ceiling broke loose.
The sign—and Edith—fell to the table with a THUD!
Her eyes never left Stick Cat. She finished her sentence.
“. . . down.”
Stick Cat smiled at her.
“Only a cat of my particular proportion and substantial stature could accomplish such a difficult task,” Edith said calmly as she squirmed, squeezed, and squiggled her way out of the center of the sign. “It’s really lucky you have me here.”
“That’s the absolute truth,” replied Stick Cat. “Can you get the sign over here by the pot?”
As Edith did that, Stick Cat snatched the end of the hose on the floor and dragged it to the foot of the ladder. He clasped the hose nozzle in his mouth and climbed the rungs on the ladder, pulling steadily and never losing his grip. When he reached the top, Stick Cat hung the hose over the highest step. With it secure there, Stick Cat turned to see how Edith was doing.
She was, to Stick Cat’s surprise and pleasure, at the bottom of the ladder sitting on the circular bagel sign.
Edith looked up at him and asked, “Now what do we
do to make my plan work?”
He took a quick look at Hazel before answering. She only held on with one hand now. Her other arm was out to her side, atop the thick, dense batter. Her eyes were open. They looked desperate and tired.
“I have to go now, kitty,” Hazel whispered.
Stick Cat leaped from the ladder’s top step and landed safely on all fours next to Edith and the sign. Edith had never seen Stick Cat jump from such a high place before.
“We have to push this up!” Stick Cat said.
Edith had never heard Stick Cat speak with such urgency.
She hopped off the sign, helped Stick Cat tilt it onto its side, and began to push it up the ladder. With one of them on each side, they could balance the bagel sign and roll it to the top. It bounced awkwardly over each step, but they maintained its balance and kept pushing.
Stick Cat eyed the pot’s rim when they were almost to the top. Hazel’s hand was no longer there. Stick Cat pushed harder.
“Don’t stop!” he grunted when they reached the top. “Push it in!”
The sign fell off the ladder, over the pot’s side, and landed in the bagel batter with a thick, heavy sp-lunk!
Edith and Stick Cat leaned over to look into the pot. The bagel sign floated atop the batter.
They could only see Hazel’s head now. Her body was completely below the surface.
She stared at them as they leaned over.
She glanced sideways at the bagel sign.
And for the second time that day, Stick Cat watched Hazel disappear.
Chapter 12
TWO SMART KITTIES
Hazel was gone.
“No!” Stick Cat yelled.
Edith hung her head.
Stick Cat hung his head.
For three seconds.
And then Hazel rose up through the batter—and up through the hole in the middle of that bagel sign. She pushed her arms through the hole, hooking her elbows securely over the sign.
And she floated.
The gooey batter fell from her face and hair in slow gluey clumps. It took a minute or so for most of it to drip off Hazel’s face. She struggled to open her eyes. Her eyelids had batter on them too.
When she got her eyes open, she stared up at Stick Cat and Edith.
A thick clump of batter fell from her chin. Stick Cat could see Hazel’s mouth now.
She grinned at him.
“Wow,” Edith said next to Stick Cat on top of the ladder. “I had no idea my plan was that good.”
“It’s not over yet,” Stick Cat said. He knew Hazel was relatively safe for the time being. But there was still work to do. She wasn’t going to sink now—but Hazel still wasn’t out of the pot.
“My plan’s not over yet?” Edith asked.
Stick Cat shook his head. He was much more at ease now that Hazel was safer. He looked back into the pot. The desperation had left Hazel’s face for now. She floated comfortably in her bagel-sign life-preserver.
“Don’t you know the second step of your plan?” Stick Cat asked after turning back to Edith. There was the slightest hint of teasing in his voice.
“Of course I know,” Edith responded, and then paused. Then a sly, momentary grin came to her face—as if an idea had suddenly occurred to her. “I just want to see if you know.”
“Well, I think I do,” Stick Cat answered, impressed with her cleverness. “You tell me if I’m right or not.”
“Okay.”
Stick Cat said, “I’m going to turn the hose on and put it in the pot. As the water fills the pot, Hazel will float higher and higher. When she floats high enough, she’ll be able to pull herself out and climb down the ladder.”
Edith waited to see if Stick Cat was done. When she was certain he was, she said, “That’s my plan exactly, Stick Cat. Way to figure it out!”
“And filling the pot with water provides an extra benefit for Hazel,” added Stick Cat.
“It sure does,” Edith said slowly. She couldn’t quite hide the puzzled look on her face even though she tried. “Let’s see if you know what that is too.”
Stick Cat nodded and answered, “When we fill the pot with water, the thick bagel batter will be diluted and she’ll be able to move around more freely. That will help her climb out of the pot too.”
“‘Diluted’?” Edith asked. It was clear she didn’t know the definition of the word. “I know what that word means. But let’s see if you know what it means.”
“It means the batter will get thinner—less heavy and sticky.”
Edith nodded at Stick Cat. “I’m so proud of you,” she said. “You really figured out my plan! Wow! How’d you do it?”
“Just a lucky guess, I suppose.”
“That makes sense,” Edith confirmed. “Just lucky.”
Stick Cat hung the hose over the rim of the pot, ensured that it was not aimed at Hazel, and then turned the nozzle. Water began to pour out.
Edith and Stick Cat both peered down into the pot.
“Is it working yet? Is she floating higher?”
“I can’t tell,” Stick Cat answered. “It’s a big pot. It will take a few minutes to see.”
While they waited, Hazel talked to them.
“There are the two good kitties,” she said. Her voice sounded slightly stronger now. “Two smart kitties, I should say.”
“I don’t know about ‘two,’ Edith whispered just loud enough for Stick Cat to hear. “It really was my plan.”
Hazel looked at the hose as water poured from it. She seemed puzzled by it.
“I don’t know what you two are up to now,” she said, and sighed. “But I know someone is looking out for me somewhere. I’m not sure you two even exist. Am I dreaming? Am I hallucinating? Am I just imagining you? I don’t know.”
Hazel closed her eyes and shook her head.
“This bagel sign is real, I know that,” Hazel said, and lifted her head to look at them again. “It’s like a life preserver in an ocean of bagel batter. You know what? I always liked this sign. It used to hang outside my shop over the sidewalk. Then we got a new sign. I didn’t want to just get rid of this old one. Too many memories. That sign hung there for more than thirty years. I hung it up here so I could see it every day—so I could think about all the good things that have happened for me and my shop. We need to take care of the old things, don’t you think?”
Stick Cat nodded at her.
Hazel smiled at him. “It’s almost like you understand me,” she said.
And then Hazel stopped talking altogether. She turned her head left and right quickly. She wriggled her shoulders in the bagel sign.
She looked confused—sort of happily confused—about something. Hazel shifted her head to stare at the water pouring from the hose.
Then she looked up at Stick Cat and Edith.
“I’m floating!” she exclaimed. “I understand now. You two are so smart!”
Edith whispered, “It was really my idea only.”
Stick Cat turned to Edith then.
“We can go now,” he said. “She’s going to be okay. We need to get back before Goose and Tiffany get home.”
“What about the lox?!”
“She’s not going to be out for a while. I think we better get back.”
“But what about the LOX?!”
“You’ll get some Saturday.”
“I will?”
“Of course,” Stick Cat said. “Today is Friday. You said Tiffany always gets bagels and lox on Saturday morning, right?”
“Right,” Edith said slowly. She didn’t seem very convinced. “But I don’t want to wait that long.”
“It’s Friday afternoon right now, Edith,” Stick Cat said. “Tiffany brings bagels and lox on Saturday morning. That’s not a very long wait at all.”
“It’s days and days, Stick Cat!” Edith said, sounding exasperated. “I can’t wait that long!”
Stick Cat understood now. Edith didn’t know the days of the week—or the order of the days of the week
anyway.
“Today is Friday, Edith,” Stick Cat explained. “Saturday comes after Friday. Tomorrow is Saturday. Tiffany is bringing lox tomorrow.”
“Why didn’t you just say that?” Edith asked. She was a little frustrated, but she also seemed to like the idea of getting lox so soon. “Why do you have to make things so complicated?”
“I didn’t mean to,” Stick Cat said, and glanced away. “Can you wait as long as tomorrow morning?”
Edith stared up at the ceiling for a few seconds. After that pause for consideration, she answered, “I suppose so.”
“Great. Then let’s—” Stick Cat said.
But he was interrupted by Edith.
“Wait!” she said loudly. “Did you say today is Friday?”
“That’s right.”
“Excellent!” exclaimed Edith. She slapped her paws together in a muffled clap. “Today is Fondue Friday! I love fondue!”
Stick Cat had no idea what “fondue” was, but he was happy to see Edith’s excitement. “Good,” he said. “Now let’s get back.”
He dashed to the open window, jumped to the ledge, and looked across the alley. Edith leaped up next to him.
Stick Cat saw the problem immediately.
There was no way to get home.
Chapter 13
A FLASH OF RED
It took Stick Cat less than one second to realize what he had done—or, more precisely, what he had failed to notice.
On their original trip across the alley, he and Edith had traveled down from the twenty-third floor of their building to the twenty-second floor of Hazel’s building.
There was no way to use the same method going back.
They couldn’t loop their napkins over the thick black cable and slide up to get home.
It wouldn’t work.
“What’s the matter, Stick Cat?” Edith asked.
“We’re stuck,” he answered. “Absolutely stuck. We’ll never get home.”