Upchuck and the Rotten Willy

by Bill Wallace

  “I . . . I don’t think . . . I can,” I stammered.

  “Go! Come on.” He paused for only a moment. “Come on, Upchuck.”

  This time, he didn’t even hesitate between the “up” and the “Chuck.”

  “Don’t do that, Tom,” I meowed back at him. “Don’t tease me. Not now. I’m really scared.”

  “Upchuck’s a sissy. Upchuck’s a sissy,” he began to sing.

  “Please,” I pleaded.

  “Upchuck. Upchuck. Upchuck.”

  My eyes tightened. My claws dug deeper into the tree bark. My lip curled.

  Rocky leaped and snarled. I never heard him. Someplace behind me, the black hulk of the Rotten Willy was probably sneaking closer and closer. I never gave him another thought. My eyes were on Tom. My friend!

  • • •

  When I finally made it to the fork in Tom’s tree where my friend stood, I expected him to leap to his yard and go running off, with me chasing him.

  He didn’t.

  Instead, he rushed over to me. Purring, he rubbed his cheek against mine. “Knew you could do it, Chuck,” he lulled. “You just got to have a little confidence in yourself. I knew you could make it. When you freeze like that, it really scares me. Don’t scare me like that anymore, okay?” He purred. “If we ever go back over Rocky’s yard, just keep walking. Don’t even think about him. Don’t look down. Just go.”

  We rubbed on each other for a while. Tom kept reminding me that I was a cat. Cats are surefooted and brave and smart—not at all like dogs. And he told me that I was one of the bravest and smartest and most surefooted cats he had ever met. He explained that the only reason he called me Upchuck was because he knew it would make me mad enough to come after him instead of thinking about Rocky. He told me that I was the best best friend he could ever have.

  • • •

  Tom was the best best friend I could ever have, too. He was always there for me when I needed him. Nobody wants to be a fraidycat. Tom kept me from being one. He helped me and made me feel brave and strong.

  We left his yard and headed to Luigi’s Restaurant. Tom and I put on quite a show. The back screen door was shut to keep the flies out. Both of us bumped against the wood part of the screen door to knock and let Luigi know we were there. When he didn’t come, Tom jumped up on the screen. Clinging with his claws in the wire mesh, he jerked and rattled the door until Luigi finally came.

  When the plump man with the white apron opened the screen, Tom jumped down. As soon as he stepped outside, we both began to rub against his legs. We purred and circled and circled and purred.

  “Hey, how’s my boys?” He greeted us with his rumbling laugh. “Long time, no see.”

  He frowned and looked around.

  “Where’s my little Louie? He not come with you today?”

  “He got smushed by a car,” Tom answered.

  “Maybe he find him a new home. But Luigi bet his new home not fix good spaghetti and meatballs, like Luigi.”

  As usual, people-animals just don’t listen. Luigi kept looking around. Finally he gave a big shrug. With a smile that made the corners of his dark, black whiskers turn up at the ends, he bent down and laughed. He patted Tom on the back and scratched me behind the ears. It felt good. His warm, rumbly laugh felt good, too.

  “You no visit Luigi. What? Been busy chasing mouses, huh? Bet you starved for Luigi’s good cookin’.” He shoved us away from the screen with his foot. “You wait here. Luigi fix plenty good meat sauce—just for you.”

  I don’t think Tom or I, either one, were that hungry. But nobody could pass up Luigi’s spaghetti and meatballs. He plopped a big plate in front of us and wiped sauce on his white apron. (It matched the rest of the stains.) His deep, rumbling laugh seemed to shake the trash can by the back door when he watched us dig in. He petted us a moment, asked again about Louie, then went back to his cooking. Tom and I ate until we were about to explode.

  • • •

  I’m one lucky cat! I thought as I gobbled a delicious meatball. I had my Katie. I had Luigi. Best of all—I had Tom. Best friends just don’t come any better than that. And I knew we’d stay best friends . . . forever.

  CHAPTER 7

  I wonder how long forever is.

  It was a people word. The first time I heard it was when my Katie and Chuck held paws and played kissy-face on the front porch. They told each other they would be together—forever.

  Chuck didn’t stay around very long.

  My Katie and Jimmy said the same stuff about being in love—forever. Jimmy had been around for a long time. A lot longer than I liked.

  Come to think of it, I didn’t really know how long forever was. I thought it was a long, long time. Maybe it wasn’t. Maybe people didn’t know how long forever was, either—and people-animals know a lot. They can talk with mouth noises and they can even read signs and stuff. That’s a lot. But maybe nobody knows how long forever is.

  Maybe it wasn’t as long as I thought.

  • • •

  On the way back home, we didn’t bound and leap across the vacant field behind my house—we waddled. At the street, Tom stopped and looked both ways. Then we waddled across. We waddled clear to his front porch where we sat and washed our faces with our paws.

  To be honest, I didn’t wash my face too well. I had sucked a really long piece of spaghetti into my mouth. The tail end of it flipped me on the eyebrow. I cleaned that off, as well as the gooey red stuff near my ears. But I left some of the meat sauce on my whiskers. That way, when I licked my lips, I could taste it all day. We curled up and slept in the sun for the rest of the afternoon.

  It was the very next day when “forever” started getting shorter and shorter.

  My Katie left.

  • • •

  My Katie had left before. I had come to live with her when I was just a kitten. Almost every day, she had left for a place called school. She told me she was a Senior and that “seniors are really cool.” I didn’t know what a senior was, but being one made my Katie happy—so I was happy, too.

  Going to school had been okay. When my Katie had come home, she played with me. She dragged an old sock round and round on her bed while I chased it. She hugged me and petted me and rubbed behind my ears. At night I slept on the pillow, next to her. Then, after a few months, my Katie had told me she was a “Glad You Ate.” Now, I had no idea what a glad you ate was. My Katie had told me that she was happy to be one—only us cats don’t just listen with our ears. We watch and feel and smell. My Katie made the mouth noises that said she was happy, only the feel she gave off said she was happy and sad and worried, all rolled together. She smelled confused and uncertain—like maybe being a senior had been more fun than being a glad you ate—only she didn’t know for sure.

  The thing I knew for sure, was that she stayed home with me for three whole weeks. She didn’t have to go to her school place and she slept late and petted me and played with me and gave me table scraps.

  But after three weeks, my Katie had gone to work. I didn’t know what work was either, but the Mama and Daddy went to work. Now my Katie went to work, too.

  Work was kind of a mixed-up thing. Like glad you ate and school, work brought her home with strange feelings. Some days when she got home, I could feel the happy on my Katie. Other days, I could only feel irritation and mad. But every day I could feel tired on her. Even more tired than school.

  Still, work wasn’t all that bad. After an hour or so of rest, my Katie would play with me or pet me while she watched the Noisy Box in the living room. Other times, Jimmy would come over and they would go on a “date,” or hold paws and play kissy-face. At night, she would take me to bed with her, and I’d curl up on our pillow.

  But for the last two weeks, my Katie and the Mama and Daddy had been talking about “college.” When they had talked of college, it smelled and felt a lot like school—only different somehow. Even with my keen cat-sense of smell and feel, I couldn’t quite put my claw on what college real
ly meant.

  For two weeks, they had talked about it. The next week, my Katie had put clothes and stuff in boxes. (That had made me a little nervous, but my Katie had put stuff in boxes before.) The last two days, she had spent a whole lot of time hugging me and petting me and saying sweet things to me.

  Then, she left.

  Like senior school and glad you ate and work, I had expected her to come home every evening.

  She didn’t.

  • • •

  The Mama and Daddy were nice to me. She fed me and petted me. He scratched behind my ears if I jumped in his lap while he was reading his paper. But they weren’t my Katie. They didn’t love me or play with me. Worst of all, I had to sleep all by myself. I didn’t like that. I didn’t understand.

  • • •

  “How would I know what college is?” Tom answered, swishing his tail. “I’ve never been there. I’ve never even heard the word before.”

  He walked beneath the branch where I lay and rubbed his side on the trunk of the pecan tree. Then he lay down on the grass and used the ground to scratch his ear.

  “College must be far away,” I mused, lying on the branch that forked out from the pecan’s trunk. The big limb wasn’t far off the ground. When Tom got up to rub his side against the bark, I swatted at his tail. It was just out of reach.

  “If it was close, my Katie would come home. College must be mean, too. Maybe it’s like a cage. Maybe the college thing has her locked up and won’t let her out to play or come home. I wish I knew.”

  Feeling sad and lonely, I gazed up through the leaves at the blue sky. “I wish I knew if my Katie was all right. I wish I knew what college was.”

  “I know.”

  The voice startled me. It came from beneath my branch—where Tom was. Only the sound was deep and ruimbly. It was not Tom. Soft and gentle, the strange voice was totally unexpected, and it made me jump.

  “Who said that” I demanded, looking down. I couldn’t see anything.

  “I did.”

  I leaned over to peek on the other side of the branch where I sat.

  Tom screamed. He screamed when he jumped from the ground to the pecan tree. He screamed when he clawed his way past my branch and raced toward the top of the tree. He screamed clear until he reached a tiny limb at the very tip that bent under his weight. There he dangled by one claw—holding on for his life.

  I’d never heard a cat scream before. I’d heard them meow and howl and . . .

  Suddenly, my eyes popped wide.

  I had heard a cat scream. I remembered, now . . .

  Claws out, I leaned farther to the side. An enormous black face with brown around the eyes and mouth—it was—it was right there beside me! Huge jaws were almost even with my hind end. A brown eye was so close, it could have touched my tail.

  It was the Rotten Willy!

  CHAPTER 8

  Mama, help! Mama, help!” Tom yowled from above me.

  “You really should get him down,” the Rotten Willy said from below me. “The limb isn’t big enough to hold him. He’s gonna fall and get hurt.”

  Tom dangled by one claw from a tiny limb at the very tip of the pecan tree. The Rotten Willy stood up on his hind legs, with his front paws on the limb where I had been sitting only a second before. I clung to the pecan tree about halfway between them.

  “Mama, help!” Tom yowled again.

  “You better hurry. That limb’s about to go.”

  I looked down at the Rotten Willy. I looked up at Tom, then down again. Suddenly, a thought hit me.

  “He’s scared,” I said. “He won’t listen to me. Why don’t you go get him?”

  The Rotten Willy tilted his head to the side.

  “Huh?”

  “You climb up and get him.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  The Rotten Willy shook his head and his ears flopped. “I’m a dog. Dogs can’t climb trees.” He held up a paw. “See? Our claws aren’t long enough. No grip on the bark.” Suddenly, his eyes got big and round. “Whoops—too late!”

  There was a cracking sound. I looked up just in time to see Tom fall. He didn’t land on his feet, like Louie always did. He hit the branch below him on his back. All four feet clawed the air, grabbing for anything. The limb bent under his weight, then it sprang upward. It flipped Tom head over tail. Rear end spinning, he flew through the air to a lower limb, missed it, and finally caught himself on the next branch.

  Eyes wide and gasping for air, he clung there until he had his balance. Once his feet were under him and his claws deep into the wood, he looked around.

  “What? Where?”

  “You okay?” I meowed.

  “What happened? Where am I?”

  “In your pecan tree,” I answered. “Fifth branch from the top. Are you okay?”

  “I . . . I think so. I . . . er . . . yes, I’m okay. Are you okay, Chuck? The Rotten Willy didn’t get you, did he?”

  “I’m right here,” I soothed. “He didn’t get me.” I frowned at the enormous monster, who was still watching us. “What are you doing in Tom’s yard? Why are you here?”

  “I’m here because of college.”

  My ears twitched. Cautiously, I relaxed my grip on the tree trunk, backed down a ways and turned to sit on a branch. It was a good ways above the ground, and I felt safe. No matter how big the Rotten Willy was, he couldn’t possibly jump this high.

  “What do you mean, you’re here because of college?”

  His ears shrugged. “I was walking down the alley and I heard you talking about college. That’s why I came over. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  My tail flipped to the other side of the branch.

  “But the Edwards’ yard, I mean, your yard has a fence around it. How did you get out?”

  I couldn’t help but notice the brown around his huge mouth when he smiled.

  “I guess that’s because of college, too.”

  I moved down, one more branch, but still out of his reach. Above me, I could hear Tom’s claws scratching the bark as he came to join me. I leaned over and looked down at the Rotten Willy.

  “What do you mean—because of college?”

  “David. That’s my boy. He went to college, last year. I sure do miss him. He used to play with me, and pet me, and take me for walks and stuff. With him gone to college, I get bored. When there’s nothing for me to do, I dig. I dug under my fence to go explore. As I was walking up the alley, I heard you and Tom talking about college. The back gate was open, so I thought I’d stop by.”

  Still trembling, Tom moved beside me on the branch. I ignored him and watched the Rotten Willy.

  “Do you know what college is?”

  “Yep.” He let go of the tree with his front paws and sat on his stubby tail. “Well, I’ve been there, and I’ve seen what it looks like, but I still don’t know for sure what it is.”

  “Where is it? Is it far away?”

  “Yep. Pretty far.” His upper lip flopped when he nodded his head. “The first day, all of us went to move my David’s clothes and toys. We rode half a day in the car just to get there.”

  “Is it mean? Is college like a cage and it won’t let people out?”

  “I don’t think it’s mean. My David stayed there for three whole weeks before he came home for the first time. So, I guess it’s not like a cage. I guess he could come home whenever he wanted. I don’t think he liked it—not at first. When he came home, I could feel scared and unhappy on him. He even told the Mama that he didn’t like college and he missed the Mama and Daddy. But the next time he came home, it was better. After that I could even feel happy—happy to be home, then happy when he was going back.”

  “What’s it like?” I asked, backing down the trunk to a lower limb.

  “It’s sort of like ‘go to school,’ only really big. There are lots of buildings and lots of people. And, instead of coming home at night, they stay there.” He lowered his head and made a little whoompf sound. “
That’s the part I don’t like. It was a lot more fun when my David would come home from school and play with me.”

  I moved a little closer and sat on a limb.

  “Chuck,” I heard Tom whisper. “Chuck.”

  I ignored him. “Did you sleep with your David?”

  “Chuck.” Tom’s whisper was louder.

  “No. I sleep outside.”

  “That’s what I really miss.” I felt my whiskers droop. “I always sleep with my Katie at night. I sure do miss . . .”

  “Chuck!” Tom’s whisper was so loud it sounded like a buzz saw.

  “. . . miss having someone to sleep with at night,” I went right on, still doing my best to ignore him. “Us cats see really good in the dark—lots better than people do. I always slept real light, so I could guard my Katie. So I could protect her. I was never scared of the dark, but without my Katie there to protect . . . well . . . I just don’t like the dark much.”

  “Yeah. It is kind of scary.” The Rotten Willy nodded. “Especially when you have to sleep outside like I do. There’s always weird noises and . . .”

  “CHUCK!” Tom screeched.

  I yanked my head round and glared up at him.

  “What?” I snarled. “What is it? Can’t you see I’m right in the middle of a conversation?”

  His eyes were wide.

  “You’re on the bottom branch,” he whispered out of the side of his mouth. “All he’s got to do is give a little jump and he’s got you. You’re dog food!”

  CHAPTER 9

  Yes, sir! Best friends just don’t come any better than Tom.

  That made twice he had saved my life. Once, when I froze in the tree over Rocky’s backyard. Again, when I was within reach of Rotten Willy.

  Man—dogs sure are sneaky. You can’t trust the things for a second. Most are loud and obnoxious and rude. They bark and snap and chase you, even when they know they can’t catch you or even reach you. Others are real quiet. They try to sneak up on you. They lurk in the bushes, thinking you won’t hear or smell them and will walk close enough so they can grab you.