by Bill Wallace
I twisted and scrambled to my feet. My fur jerked and rippled all up and down my body. There was no sound of Rotten Willy laughing. I peeked out the doorway. None of the mice who lived in the hole next to the air conditioner squeaked. Not even the bird bounced up and down and laughed on his limb in the pecan tree. He was too busy munching on his stolen chunk of dog food. My tail jerked from side to side.
You’re okay. You’re still cool, I told myself with a sigh. Nobody saw you. Still, just thinking about it . . .
Being upside down with your tail in the air is a very undignified position for a cat. We’re graceful and have fantastic coordination. We cats always land on our feet—not our head. My tail began to jerk from side to side. Casually, as if nothing had happened, I strutted out into the yard.
Willy peeked from behind the pecan tree. He was so huge, his ribs and chest stuck out from one side. It was like watching a horse trying to hide behind a sunflower stalk. I wondered if he really thought he was hidden.
I guess so, because when he saw me look in his direction, he yanked his head back.
Yeah . . . like I couldn’t see the rest of him. . . .
Still cool, I strutted across the yard. I looked all around, like I was searching for him. And . . . when I was about two leaps from the tree, I charged.
Willy took off. His big, clunky paws kicked dirt and grass into the air when he raced from his hiding place. I jumped. My paw just missed his stub tail. That’s only because at the last second he tucked it against his fat bottom. I hit the ground running. I only chased after him a few feet before I stopped. Although quick and agile like most cats, my legs were just too short to keep up. His fat paws and long legs sped him clear to the far side of the yard before he stopped.
There, he turned to look at me. He had the goofiest, sloppiest grin on his face. “What’s wrong?” he taunted. “You must be getting slow in your old age.”
I didn’t let his insult bother me. Slow and cautious, like easing up on a mouse, I moved toward him. If he started to his right, I took a step to my left. If he moved left, I countered. I was almost close enough. Just another step or two and . . .
The big doof took off again. Head high and the wind flopping his big, loose lips around, he raced beside the fence to the far corner of the yard. I moved in on him again. Once more he took off. This time he hid behind his doghouse.
I’d never seen an animal so big and clunky and dumb! He was so stupid, he probably had no idea that his back was higher than the doghouse. His short, stub tail stuck up like a flag. I felt my eyes roll as I watched it wiggle back and forth.
Instead of coming around the doghouse, like he expected, I waited until I got almost to the door. Then I leaped to the roof, bounded again, and landed on his back.
“Tag. You’re it!” Then I took off before he even knew he’d been got.
I was only halfway across the yard when I heard those thundering paws gaining on me. I ran harder. He was almost on top of me. I darted to the right.
He missed, but he didn’t stumble. Instead, he made kind of a circle and closed on me again. I waited until he almost had me, then faked left and dodged right again. Willy slid right past me.
Once more those enormous paws came thundering. I glanced back. Long legs gobbled up the ground as he raced after me. When I looked back at where I was going, my eyes flashed wide. I was headed for the corner. Willy ran faster. I was trapped! I couldn’t turn. I couldn’t dodge. His massive weight made the ground shake beneath me as he charged.
Suddenly, a thought grabbed me. What if he couldn’t stop?
More like a vision, I could almost see it.
Willy was a good friend. He would try to stop. But he was big. Once he got all that weight moving . . . what if he couldn’t stop? What if he tried, but . . .
I was a goner! If I got stuck between the enormous dog and the fence, there would be nothing left. I’d end up looking like “roadkill” . . . “freeway pizza” . . . I’d be smushed!
CHAPTER 4
I ducked.
That was all I could do. I stopped, dead in my tracks and flattened out on the ground. Eyes closed, paws on either side of my head and my belly on the ground, I stuck there as flat as a bug on a fly swatter.
It worked!
Rotten Willy came thundering over me. He managed to tag me with the tip of his nose, but at least I didn’t get smushed.
“Tag. You’re . . .”
He never got the “it” out. Suddenly there was this horrible CRASH! I glanced up just in time to see Rotten Willy slam into the board fence. He turned his head just in the nick of time. He smacked into the boards instead of the heavy, solid wood post. The fence shook. For an instant Willy kind of scrunched up—all of him squeezed together by the impact. Then he straightened out and shook himself.
Eyes crossed, he looked around.
“Did I get you?”
I nodded. He took off.
Only he didn’t take off very far. He wobbled about two steps, then tilted. Staggering sideways, he bumped against the fence. Stood there a moment to get his balance, then he tried again. This time he got about three steps.
“Are you okay?”
“Sure. Fine.” He sat down and tried to smile. His head and shoulders kind of went round and round in a big, gentle circle. Inside his head, his eyes rolled round and round in the other direction.
I eased toward him. As hard as he hit, it was a wonder he didn’t knock himself out cold. As I got closer, he blinked a couple of times and took off again. I sighed and shook my head. Guess he’s all right, I thought. Either his head’s so thick, it didn’t hurt him all that much, or he’s so dumb he doesn’t even know he’s knocked out.
I gave him enough head start to make sure he was all right, then went after him. We raced round and round the yard until he tried to squeeze between the air conditioner and the house. That slowed him down enough that I nailed his rump with a claw.
He turned and started chasing me.
Playing tag with a Rottweiler is like a cricket playing tag with a steamroller. Sooner or later I was gonna get hurt.
I headed for the pecan tree. Willy was gaining on me. I flattened my ears and whiskers against my head and ran as hard as I could. I jumped.
A huge paw hit my tail. It struck with as much force as the boy people over at the ball diamond used to hit the little, round ball they played with.
Now usually a cat’s tail follows the cat. Sometimes it has a mind of its own, though—like if you’re really mad, it flips all by itself. If you’re really scared, it puffs up all by itself. But most times it just follows along and helps balance.
When Willy hit my tail . . . well, I was in midair, almost to the tree when all of a sudden my tail passed me. I caught sight of it out of my left eye. Then my hind end and the rest of me turned around and started chasing my tail. Claws out, I was ready to cling to the tree and climb out of Willy’s reach. Only there was no bark to cling to. I went sailing backward through the air. Paws flailed, claws grabbed, my tail spun—hoping for anything to get hold of. There was nothing.
I missed the tree!
The fence stopped me. My rear end slammed into it. Upside down, I slid to the ground. I landed on my cheek with my tail stuck up in the air.
Not cool!
Quickly I scrambled to get myself right side up. I fluffed my fur with a couple of quick jerks. Tried to look calm—like I had meant to land on my face with my butt in the air.
Yeah, right.
It didn’t work. Above me I could hear birds laughing. I glanced up. A Mockingbird and a Robin stood on two different branches in the pecan tree. They laughed so hard that the limbs bobbed up and down. A little squeaking sound came to my sharp ears. Tight eyes glanced toward the hole in the house beside the air conditioner. As soon as they saw me look in their direction, the three mice scrambled back through the crack to hide behind the brick. I could still hear their squeaking laugh. Above me, the birds squawked and chirped so hard I thought they were
going to laugh their feathers off.
Rotten Willy wasn’t laughing. He rushed to me and sniffed. The suction from his gigantic nose lifted my fur.
“Are you okay? You’re not hurt, are you?”
His big, ugly face looked worried. I tried to smile.
“No, I’m fine. I’m cool.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. I knew you were expecting me to jump for the tree . . . so . . . ah . . . I decided to go for the fence and trick you by landing upside down.”
The Mockingbird fell off his limb.
He laughed so hard that he just flipped himself over. Wings fluttering, he managed to grab hold of a lower limb. Still laughing, he had to use his beak to pull himself up.
“You ever see such a clumsy cat?” he called to the Robin. “Did you ever see a cat miss a whole tree before?”
The Robin’s laughter bounced his limb so hard I thought it was going to snap.
“Not only does he miss a whole tree,” the Robin chirped, “he lies about it, too.”
My eyes were hot enough to glow in the dark.
“That’s it,” I snarled. “You’re cat food.”
Claws ripped into the bark as I tore up the tree. Like a streak of lightning, I chased after the Robin. He let out a startled chirp and flew off. Last glimpse I got, he was flapping so hard he was probably over the football field before he slowed down. Then I turned on the Mockingbird.
Mockingbirds don’t scare as easily as Robins. They have kind of a nasty disposition—especially in the spring when they’re protecting their babies. I’ve even had ’em peck me on the back for doing nothing more than walking across my own yard. This guy gave a little squawk, but he only flew to the end of the limb. There, he turned and laughed at me even louder than before.
I started after him when all of a sudden . . .
WHAM!
The loud noise startled me. My tail jerked—hard. When it did, it lifted my back feet off the branch. I managed to hang on with my front claws, but my rear and my tail hung down.
WHAM!
Wide eyes focused on the sound. It was Rocky! He slammed against the fence. He leaped as hard as he could. White fangs slashed, no more than a whisker’s width from my tail.
CHAPTER 5
Muscles in my back tightened. Hard as I could, I swung to the side, trying to get hold of the branch with my hind foot.
I missed.
WHAM!
Rocky leaped again. His fierce jaws snapped. I barely managed to jerk my tail out of the way. Frantic, I struggled to reach the limb and pull myself up.
“I’ve got you . . . now!” He leaped and barked his threats. “I knew you’d . . . mess up, sooner . . . or later and . . . when you did . . . I’d be . . . ready. . . .”
Rocky couldn’t jump and bark at the same time. So every time he was in the air, he managed only part of what he was trying to say. Fact was, I don’t think Rocky could even think in complete sentences—much less say something all together.
With all my strength I pulled until my chin was resting on the limb. Then I swung my hind leg.
“I’m gonna get . . . that tail and . . . yank you down from . . . that tree. I’m gonna chew . . . you up into . . . tiny pieces . . . and . . .”
I made it. As soon as all four feet were on the branch, I scampered back to where I was safe. I stood there, panting and watching.
“Are you okay?” Rotten Willy woofed from below.
“Yeah,” I gasped. “I got mad at that stupid bird and wasn’t paying attention. You talk about dumb. If I hadn’t grabbed on to that—”
“Come back, you . . . cowardly cat . . . I dare you . . . to walk back . . . out on that . . . limb. . . .”
I stood at the base of the branch, where it joined Willy’s pecan tree. Every time Rocky leaped and barked, all I could see of him over the fence was his pointy nose and pointy ears and pointed head.
“I’m stronger, now . . . and I can jump . . . higher. And . . . if you weren’t . . . such a chicken . . . cat, you’d . . .”
“Man, that is one nasty dog,” Willy snorted, glaring at the wood fence. “It’s dudes like him that give all us dogs a bad name.”
I curled my tail and sat down. My fur was just now starting to unpuff.
“I thought you were the only nice dog there was.”
Willy shook his head.
“No. A lot of dogs are nice. Most of us won’t even bother a cat unless you run from us. Ones like me, who grew up with cats, we don’t chase them at all.”
“If I could . . . just get my . . . paws on top . . . of this fence . . . I’d climb over . . . there and grind . . . you into dog . . . food. I’d—”
“Ah, SHUT UP!!!”
My eyes flashed. It startled me to hear Willy’s bark and my hiss say the same thing to Rocky at the exact same instant. We looked at each other and laughed.
“The way I got it figured,” I told Willy as I backed down the tree, “it has to be the breed. I mean, Dobermans are pretty big dogs. But you got this big dog with pointed ears, a pointed nose, and a teeny, tiny head. Big dog—tiny head. There’s not room for much of a brain inside that ittsy-bittsy skull.”
Willy shrugged his ears.
“Might be part of it. But I’ve met some nice Dobermans in my day. I figure it was more the way his people raised him.”
“Come back . . . cat . . . I’ll play tag . . . with you . . . just get on . . . this side of . . . the fence and . . .”
Willy and I ignored him. We trotted to his doghouse and lay down for another nap.
“You really think it was his people?”
Willy nodded.
“Yep. His people wanted Rocky to be a watchdog, so they were real mean to him when he was a puppy. They poked him with sticks and scared him and stuff like that.”
“How terrible.”
Willy nodded his agreement.
“They wanted him to bark and be mean, like them. It worked, too. Rocky won’t let people near the house. Not even little kids. He doesn’t like cats. I tried to make friends with him. He doesn’t like dogs. He’s not happy with his people. Fact is, I don’t even think Rocky likes Rocky all that much. It’s a shame.”
I curled up against his tummy and closed my eyes. Trouble was, my eyes wouldn’t stay shut. The afternoon was warm and comfortable. I got up, made two circles, then lay down again. Rocky finally quieted. I yawned and forced my eyes tight. There was a breeze, but just enough to keep the air moving—not so much that it tickled my fur or irritated me. I clamped my eyes tighter. There were no birds chirping in the trees. Everything was quiet and peaceful. Perfect weather and time of day for a nap. I flipped one way, then the other. Willy moaned when I got up. Still trying to get comfortable, I made two more circles and lay back down. My tail wrapped over my face. Then an eye popped open and peeked out from underneath it.
It was no use. No matter how hard I tried, I simply couldn’t sleep.
Careful not to wake my friend, I crept through the door and climbed the pecan tree. From up high I could see my whole world.
Behind Willy’s fence there was the baseball field, and beyond that, the football stadium. In the fall no one came to the baseball field. Well, maybe now and then a man came to mow the grass or rake the sand. Tom and I used to run across the empty field and sit on the big, wood fence and tease the dogs. I climbed a little higher.
It was still early in the afternoon, but there were already people walking their dogs around the track at the edge of the football field. The lady who lived on the other side of Rocky’s house—where my friend Tom used to live—was already there with her poodles. I could see their little, prissy, fufu haircuts even from this far away. To the right was a row of houses. There were no pets in their yards, though. And beyond the houses was Luigi’s Italian Restaurant and the busy street where my friend Louie got smushed.
Even higher in the tree I could see over Willy’s house. My house was sort of across the street there. Behind it was an empty field, Fa
rmer McVee’s place, and . . .
“You’re bored, aren’t you?”
The unexpected voice made my whiskers jerk. I blinked and looked down. Willy stood at the base of the tree. I frowned.
“I’m not a board. I’m a cat.”
Willy smiled and shook his head.
“I didn’t say you were A board. I said you were bored.”
“What’s that?” I asked, backing down the tree to sit with him in the lawn.
“It’s a people word,” he explained. “Like a feeling kind of thing you get. My David used to get it sometimes, when he didn’t have anything to do. He’d get that look in his eye—just like the look you had—then he’d say, ‘I’m bored.’ ”
“So, what did he do about it?”
“Well.” Willy shrugged his ears. “Let me tell you.”
CHAPTER 6
Yeah, right!” I flipped my tail. “I can just see me riding a skateboard, or taking you for a walk on the beach so I can flirt with the girl people. I don’t even know what a beach is.”
“It’s a big, sandy place near the ocean.”
“What’s an ocean?”
Willy shrugged his ears.
“It’s water. It’s big. Only you can’t drink it.”
I shook my head and strolled back to climb the pecan tree. “What good is water if you can’t drink it.”
“Well,” Willy called after me. “You asked what my David boy did when he got bored—so I told you.”