“This is Croaker.” He held the bullfrog high.
Mrs. Winters waved her hands. “Please take him outside!”
By now, Mister Whiskers was having a royal fit. He spread his long claws. He even tried to follow Jason and his bullfrog outside.
But Jason backed away. “I . . . I have to go help my dad now,” he said. “’Bye, Dee Dee!”
With a great burst of speed, he rushed down the front steps.
Mister Whiskers pushed his nose against the screen door. Still fussing at Croaker.
Dee Dee caught him just in time. “Oh no you don’t,” she said. “You’re not going near that frog!”
The cat’s eyes squinted into a sly slant.
Merrrt! He leaped up onto his sunny sill.
Mister Whiskers sat tall. King of kitties.
With hope in his eyes, he watched Jason walk across the street. He saw him head for the school. He knew the bullfrog was in Jason’s pocket.
The sun began to warm Mister Whiskers again. He relaxed, washing his paws in the sunlight.
Soon, he began to daydream. His kitty dream was filled with sweet freedom. He could almost taste the green grass. A young, juicy field mouse . . .
Purrr. Mister Whiskers snoozed. Running away was his best dream yet.
The hot sun poured through the bay window.
He was bigger than a mountain lion. He could outrun anything. Mice and dogs. Even a bullfrog!
Only inches to go. He was that close to
catching the ugly green frog. . . .
“Wake up, kitty,” Dee Dee called.
She went to the windowsill. Gently, she picked him up and carried him to the kitchen.
“Time for some din-din.”
Her cat yawned and stretched.
“Oh, you poor thing. You’re so tired,” Dee Dee said. She put him down. He could hardly stand up.
Then she opened the fridge. “Cold milk will perk you up.” She turned her back, still cooing to her cat.
But someone had forgotten to tug on the back screen door. It was hanging open a crack.
Just enough.
SIX
Dee Dee stood in the middle of the kitchen. She couldn’t believe her eyes.
“Mister Whiskers was right here!” she explained to her mother.
“He’ll come back,” Mrs. Winters said.
Dee Dee went to the back door and looked out. He’s a house cat, she thought. He needs to be indoors.
She turned to her mother. “Mister Whiskers has always wanted his freedom,” she said. “I can tell by the look in his eyes.”
She sniffled.
Mrs. Winters slipped her arm around Dee Dee. “Don’t worry, honey.”
But Dee Dee was worried. She was very worried.
What if Mister Whiskers didn’t want to come home?
What then?
Later, Dee Dee helped her father sweep the porch.
“I don’t want to wait for Mister Whiskers to come home,” she said. “I want to go find him.”
Mr. Winters nodded with a grunt. Then he went to get the garden hose.
“I’m gonna look for him,” Dee Dee said. “As soon as I’m finished here.”
“OK with me,” Mr. Winters mumbled. He began to hose down the front porch.
Dee Dee knew her dad wasn’t very worried. Maybe he was secretly glad.
“Do you miss our cat?” she asked.
“Miss who?” he said. “Our cat?”
“Well, you know,” Dee Dee said softly.
She wished her dad thought of Mister Whiskers that way. She wished he thought of the cat as family.
At last, Dee Dee’s chores were done. She set off down the cul-de-sac.
First, she stopped at Jason Birchall’s house next door.
“My cat ran off,” she told Jason’s mother.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Mrs. Birchall said. “I’ll tell Jason to watch for him.”
“Thanks,” said Dee Dee.
She went to Eric Hagel’s house. He lived in the house next to Jason. Eric’s grandpa was sitting on the porch.
“Have you seen my cat?” Dee Dee asked.
Grandpa Hagel yawned. “Can’t say that I have.”
“If you see him, will you let me know?” she asked.
The old man nodded. “I’d be glad to.”
Mr. Tressler lived at the very end of Blossom Hill Lane. Dee Dee headed there next.
She rang the doorbell.
Seconds passed, and Mr. Tressler opened the door. “Hello there, little missy,” he said. “What can I do for you?”
“Just thought you’d seen my cat.”
Mr. Tressler leaned on his cane. “Run off, eh?”
Dee Dee nodded. “I think he wants his freedom.”
“Could be,” he said. “But a well-fed pet always returns.”
“Really?” she said. This was good news.
“Yes, indeedy.” Mr. Tressler jiggled his cane.
“So . . . Mister Whiskers will come home!” She scampered down the opposite side of the cul-de-sac. It was Stacy Henry’s side of the street.
She turned to go toward Stacy’s house. But stopped. “Wait a minute,” she said out loud. “A well-fed pet always comes home. Mr. Tressler said so.”
So she decided not to bother looking. Her cat could come dragging home when he was ready. Probably around suppertime.
I’ll go help at the carnival, she thought.
And that’s what she did.
Much later, Dee Dee poured milk into Mister Whiskers’ bowl. She set it outside near the back door.
“This’ll bring him back,” she said.
Her mother agreed. “Good idea.”
Dee Dee waited and watched. She waited some more.
She waited till supper.
No cat.
She waited till after supper.
No Mister Whiskers.
She waited till bedtime.
Nothing.
She tiptoed downstairs after her mother had tucked her in.
Still no sign of her cat.
Dee Dee unhooked the back screen door. She let it hang open. Just enough.
She sat on the floor, waiting. She waited till the moon slid over Jason’s roof next door.
But Mister Whiskers didn’t come home.
That crab cake! thought Dee Dee.
SEVEN
Dee Dee got up early Sunday morning. She dashed downstairs.
The screen door was locked now. She unlatched it and went outside.
She checked the kitty bowl. Sour milk.
“Yuk!” She dumped it out.
Back inside, she woke up her parents. “Mister Whiskers didn’t come home,” Dee Dee told them.
Her father rolled over. He made husky, early-morning sounds under the covers.
Her mother sat up. She stroked Dee Dee’s hair. “Oh, he’ll come home. You’ll see.”
Dee Dee kept watch for her cat. Even after breakfast. And between teeth-brushing and getting ready for church.
Soon, it was time to leave for Sunday school.
During prayer time, Dee Dee talked to God. “Please take care of my cat,” she whispered.
After dinner, Dee Dee went to see Carly Hunter. She and Carly were best friends.
She told Carly about her runaway cat. “I hope he comes back real soon,” she said sadly.
“Me too,” Carly said. “It would be lonely at your house without him.”
Dee Dee sighed. “My dad doesn’t think so. He’d probably care more if we got a dog.”
Carly giggled. “How can you say that?”
“Some people like dogs best,” Dee Dee replied. “I think my dad’s a dog person.”
Carly played with her long curls. “Dogs aren’t better than cats.” She turned to look at Dee Dee. “Did you ask God to help you find him?”
Dee Dee nodded. “At church.”
“Then don’t worry,” Carly suggested.
Dee Dee smiled. “OK, I’ll try not to.”
And she did try.
She tried so hard, she almost forgot about Mister Whiskers.
On Monday, she gave Jason his cookies. At lunch, the kids talked about the carnival. Jason was busy eating his carob chip cookies.
After recess, Dee Dee turned in her riddle. It went like this:
A Riddle
by
Dee Dee Winters
I help bake cookies.
And eat them, too.
Sometimes I act like a crab cake.
I speak a secret language.
And I love freedom!
Who am I?
Clue: none.
Dee Dee didn’t bother telling Jason that her cat was still missing.
After school, the Cul-de-sac Kids met at Abby’s house.
Abby Hunter was the president of the club. “We don’t have to have another meeting, do we?” she asked.
No one wanted another meeting. They were too excited about the carnival.
“Double dabble good,” Abby said. “No meeting. Let’s go!”
They made a circle and locked hands. “Cul-de-sac Kids stick together,” they chanted.
At the end of their block, they crossed the street together. Kids and pets.
Abby Hunter was the only one without a pet. Dee Dee Winters had one, but it was absent—a runaway.
Jason Birchall chomped on his cookies—the perfect reward for leaving his frog behind. Only now, with Mister Whiskers gone, he could’ve brought Croaker along, Dee Dee thought.
But she decided not to say anything. Jason would probably figure it out.
Soon, the Cul-de-sac Kids were exploring the carnival. They showed off their pets.
“It’s a pet parade,” Jason said to Dee Dee. “Remember the one we had last Easter?”
Dee Dee remembered.
Suddenly, Jason’s eyes grew big. “Hey!” he shouted.
“What’s wrong?” Dee Dee asked.
“Your cat’s not here,” he said. “So why can’t Croaker come to the carnival?”
Dee Dee couldn’t think of a reason. Well, she could. But she didn’t want to cause trouble. Not now. Not here at the carnival.
“I wanna show off my pet!” Jason said.
“Then go home and get him,” Dee Dee replied.
And with that, Jason left the school grounds. He ran all the way home.
Dee Dee hoped he was doing the right thing. What if the other pets starting hissing at Croaker?
But she knew she didn’t have to worry. Dogs and ducks couldn’t care less about bullfrogs. Neither did rabbits and hamsters.
Cats were the ones who hissed and spit. They had hissy fits. At least, Mister Whiskers always did.
But today, Dee Dee wouldn’t have to worry about her crabby cat. Mister Whiskers was gone. Having a long taste of freedom.
He was far away from home by now.
Maybe many miles away.
EIGHT
The House of Mirrors was a frightful place. A scaredy-cat place.
Mister Whiskers opened one eye. Bravely, he took another peek. He was big as a mountain lion. This was not a dream!
He stared at the strange mirror. Both eyes wide. That face . . . and those ears. Had he always looked this way?
Suddenly, he heard voices. A familiar voice stood out. It was Dee Dee’s, his favorite girl-person.
Merrrt! Mister Whiskers couldn’t let her find him. Not now. Not yet!
There were too many wonderful smells and sounds. He was enjoying freedom. And people food!
Since running away, he’d begun to understand life on the outside. Now he knew why humans ate junk food.
Mm-m-meoowsy! Scraps of French fries and bits of hot dog. And melted ice cream on wrappers.
Mister Whiskers loved his new life!
But he hid when Dee Dee and her friends came near. He slinked away, out of sight. He crawled behind the tallest mirror.
Dee Dee and Carly posed in front of the fat mirror. They were giggling and talking.
“Let’s tell Jason to bring Croaker in here,” Carly said.
Dee Dee grinned. “That bullfrog will look fatter than ever!”
The girls tried out the tall, skinny mirror. And all the others.
When they left, they were still laughing.
Mister Whiskers felt something tickle his insides. A homesick bug, maybe?
Or was it the junk food?
Suddenly a familiar scent hit his nose. He sniffed the air.
The muscles in his furry body froze. The hair on his back stood in a ridge.
He sniffed again. What was that horrid smell?
Then he knew. His claws shot out.
FROG!
Mister Whiskers crept close to the ground. He slinked under the tall mirror. He wanted to find that bullfrog.
He had to find him!
Mister Whiskers peeked out from under the tall mirror. He spied himself—a very fat self—a few feet away—in the fat mirror.
Jason was holding his bullfrog in front of the fat mirror, too.
Rribbittt! Croaker spotted Mister Whiskers! The bullfrog leaped out of Jason’s hands.
“What?” Jason said, spinning around.
Boink—boink! The frog hopped out of the House of Mirrors. He headed for the dunk tank.
The principal was sitting in the dunking chair. He sat high above the water.
Wheeee! Croaker leaped up and flew over the fence. He splashed down, into the water tank.
Mister Whiskers was close behind. He tried to make the fence.
Splaaat! Not quite.
He fell to the ground, staring at the fence. He hissed at his poor judgment.
Then he heard a sound. Quack, quackity-quack!
Cracker and Jack were loose. They were waddling toward him. Their thin rope leashes dragged behind.
Merrrt! Mister Whiskers didn’t like the looks of those long beaks. He arched his back.
But nope, it wasn’t worth a fit. Those slow-pokey ducks would never catch him. Nothing to hiss about.
He turned his attention back to the bullfrog.
Croaker was swimming around having a good time. Safe inside the dunk tank!
Mister Whiskers stared at him. Could he swim today? Should he risk one of his nine lives?
Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a fluff of white. Snow White, Shawn’s dog, was charging at him!
Zoom! Mister Whiskers darted away from the dunk tank. He zipped toward the food stand, under the popcorn maker. Past the hot dogs and around two trash cans.
Snow White was on his tail. She was panting just inches away. He felt the slobber on his hind legs.
Mister Whiskers was in big trouble. He kept moving.
Faster . . . faster!
NINE
Arfff! Stacy’s cockapoo joined the chase. Behind him, two rabbit ears flopped in the air. Dunkum waved his empty dog leash, trying to catch Blinkee.
Meoorsy? Mister Whiskers longed for the cellar at home. So what if it was dark and musty? It was safe!
Just then he heard his girl-person. “Kitty, kitty . . . cookie!” she called.
He glanced behind him. One split second.
Merrrt! No way would he fall for the cookie trick.
A whole trail of things was coming after him. And he was purrty sure there was no cookie.
Maybe someday he’d have time for a real cookie. If he lived to tell the story.
Dee Dee grabbed Carly’s hand. “Quick! Help me catch my cat!”
Carly scrambled along after Dee Dee.
They chased the pets through the maze of carnival booths. Two ducks, two dogs, one rabbit, and a crabby cat.
The one and only frog caught the action from a slippery perch. He’d come up for air, next to the principal’s dunking chair. The kids were pointing and yelling.
Fran the Ham watched the chase, too. She was safe and dry in Eric’s pocket.
Dee Dee and Carly dashed past the ducks. The girls were gaining on Sunday Funnies now.
> Then Dee Dee heard it . . .
Meoowp! Mister Whiskers was crying for help.
She could see him leading the chase. He was headed for the kiddie rides.
Dee Dee sped up. “Hurry, Carly!”
But Carly was out of breath. “I can’t run any faster.”
Dee Dee lost sight of Mister Whiskers. She stopped running. “We’ll never catch him now,” she gasped. “Not in all those rides.”
The girls peered into the distance. Dee Dee spied Quacker and Jack. They were the last animals into the rides area.
“Come on,” Dee Dee said. “We have to get Abby and the others to help us. Our pets could get hurt in there.”
Carly followed her back through a tangle of booths and stands.
At last, they found Abby and Stacy. And the other Cul-de-sac Kids. All of them had been searching in the wrong places.
“The pets are over there,” Dee Dee shouted. She pointed toward the busy kiddie rides.
Abby said, “That could be dangerous.”
Dee Dee frowned. “What’ll we do?”
“Round up all the Cul-de-sac Kids,” she said. “If we stick together, we can catch our pets.”
Dee Dee smiled. Abby always talked about sticking together as friends. Maybe that’s why she was president of their club.
All nine kids hurried toward the amusement area. There were lots of rides. Even a Ferris wheel.
Dee Dee and Carly passed through the kiddie ride gate.
High overhead, the Ferris wheel rose like a tower.
Dee Dee looked up . . . up. Up!
She cupped her hand over her eyes. Then she saw something.
Could it be?
It was!
“Abby, look!” she cried. “My cat’s riding on the Ferris wheel!”
The Cul-de-sac Kids gasped. They stared up at Mister Whiskers.
“He’s up there, all right,” Jason said. “And I bet he ate my frog!”
Dee Dee was worried. Mister Whiskers did look a bit green.
Then someone in the crowd called out, “There’s a frog at the dunk tank. He’s with the principal.”
“Thanks!” Jason said. He ran off to get Croaker.
Dee Dee sighed. Thank goodness! Her cat had behaved himself. He had not gobbled down Jason’s frog!
Then . . .
The Crabby Cat Caper Page 2