by Tom Watson
And then something else happened.
Cra-aaa-ack!
A single piece of white plaster—about the size of a quarter—fell to the floor. And a thin crack shot out from that spot and ran in a jagged line across the ceiling.
“Edith!” Stick Cat screamed. “Get over here! Please! NOW!”
Edith stood directly under that bulgy spot—and didn’t move an inch. Her chin was pointed up, her head twitched in tiny degrees as she followed that crack—and listened to that sound.
“It will be neat to see an elephant!” Edith said. “Imagine, just imagine, an elephant right here in our very own building.”
“It’s not an elephant!” Stick Cat repeated in a whisper-yell.
Edith didn’t hear him—or, at least, wasn’t paying particular attention to him anyway.
“You’d think we would have heard it stomping around,” Edith continued. “I mean, elephants weigh at least eighty or ninety pounds. They’re huge! And they blow those trunks like trumpets. You’d think we would have heard that once or twice.”
“It’s not an elephant,” Stick Cat said again. He watched the crack move farther along the ceiling. It was almost to the wall now—almost to the big vent that blew cool air in the summer. Stick Cat stared at the large rectangular grate covering the vent. He tilted his head a bit to the side. It looked like he was trying to solve a puzzle.
Edith chatted away.
“No matter,” she said, as much to herself as to anybody else. “We’re going to see that elephant in no time.”
“The vent,” Stick Cat whispered. “Whatever it is will come out of the vent.”
He bounded out from behind the couch, grasped Edith’s front left paw, and began to pull her back to the couch.
“What the—?” Edith said, and resisted his efforts.
“Come on!”
“Why?”
“Something is going to come out of the vent in a few seconds!”
“I know that, silly,” Edith said. “It’s an elephant. I don’t know how it’s going to fit through that vent though.”
Stick Cat continued to pull.
Edith continued to resist.
“If it’s an elephant,” Stick Cat said. It sounded like he was negotiating now in an attempt to change Edith’s mind—and stop her from resisting. “Then I promise we’ll come out to see it. We’ll introduce ourselves. Become friends. Fix it a snack. Whatever.”
“‘Fix it a snack?’”
“Sure. If it’s hungry,” Stick Cat said, and yanked at Edith some more. He couldn’t believe they were even talking about this. Something was crawling through the air-conditioning pipes toward the vent. It was not normal. Something extremely strange—probably even dangerous, Stick Cat thought—was happening. And here he was talking with Edith about fixing a snack for an elephant.
“I’m not sharing any of my food with an elephant,” Edith huffed. “Forget it. I’m willing to be friends and all, but let’s try to stay serious here.”
Stick Cat had successfully pulled her back to the couch, at least. He took a little comfort in that. He thought they would be safer there. They peeked out from the back corner of the couch.
“Let’s watch,” Stick Cat whispered.
“How do you address an elephant?” Edith wondered out loud. “Is it like, ‘Hey, Mr. Elephant’? Or is it more formal like, ‘Good afternoon, Sir Elephant’? Or is it more like, ‘Elephant. Dude. ’Sup?’”
“We’re about to find out,” Stick Cat said.
The air-conditioning vent shook. It rattled. Paint chips fell down from its edges onto the living-room carpet. Then the vent cover itself separated from the wall and dropped to the living-room carpet with a dull THUD!
Stick Cat and Edith stood perfectly still.
A long, thick, gray object fell out of the vent opening.
“Told you!” Edith exclaimed. “It’s an elephant’s trunk!”
Chapter 5
SANTA
You may be surprised to learn this, but what fell from the vent in Stick Cat’s apartment was not, in fact, an elephant’s trunk.
It was a rope. A long, thick, gray rope. It uncoiled and flopped and settled to the floor.
Edith asked, “Why would an elephant carry a rope with it?”
“Umm, I don’t—” Stick Cat began to say.
“It’s tough being right all the time,” Edith interrupted. She was, apparently, still convinced there was an elephant up there. “But I don’t understand why it would drag a rope with it.”
“Umm—”
“Maybe it likes to play jump rope,” Edith said quickly, coming up with her own theory before Stick Cat could even answer. “You know, to stay in shape.”
Stick Cat tried to think of a response. “Umm.”
Something happened just then that would disprove Edith’s elephant theory.
A pair of shoes emerged from the vent—and a pair of pants after that.
“It’s a person,” Stick Cat whispered.
“It’s probably the elephant trainer,” Edith whispered back.
Despite being so curious—and so alarmed—about what was occurring, Stick Cat had to turn to Edith to see if she was, indeed, serious.
She was.
Edith saw the doubt on Stick Cat’s face. As further explanation, she added, “The trainer probably uses the rope as a leash. You know, when the elephant isn’t playing jump rope, I mean.”
“Maybe so,” Stick Cat said slowly. “But I think it might just be a man with a rope. And, you know, no elephant at all.”
“So, you’re saying a rope, but no elephant?”
“I think so.”
“So, I’m half right,” Edith said. She seemed to take some comfort in this idea. “Right about the rope, but possibly wrong about the elephant.”
“Half right?” Stick Cat asked. “Uh, sure.”
“Well, half right is better than half wrong.”
Despite the danger of his home being invaded, Stick Cat had to smile. Only Edith, he figured, could think of her theory in this way. He said, “Yes. It is.”
When Stick Cat turned back, a full-grown man had emerged from the vent. He leaned back, allowed the rope to support his weight, and stepped slowly down the wall. It took less than fifteen seconds for him to reach the floor.
He looked quite normal to Stick Cat—except for two things. First, he wore a black mask that covered his eyes and the bridge of his nose. Second, a leather satchel hung from his belt.
The masked man turned his head slowly left and right, examining the room quickly.
The man reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a second bag. This one was much smaller and made of plastic. He crouched down into a squatting position and then said an astonishing thing. It was astonishing to Stick Cat anyway.
“Here, kitty, kitty,” he called. “Here, kitty. I know you’re in here. I heard you from the vent. I think there might even be two of you.”
Edith began to step out from behind the couch, but Stick Cat stopped her.
“No, Edith,” was all he said.
“Why not?”
“Are you serious? He snuck into my house!” answered Stick Cat.
“You have trust issues, Stick Cat,” Edith said.
Stick Cat was about to say something, but the man did something before he could speak. He opened the plastic bag—and a scent flowed from it into the room.
“I have treats for you,” the man called.
“He has treats, Stick Cat!” Edith said. “Can you smell that? It smells like fish. Let’s go get some!”
“No,” answered Stick Cat simply.
The man took something from the bag. He pinched it between his pointer finger and thumb and held it suspended in the air in front of him.
He looked in their direction now. “I heard you meowing. I always carry something special with me just in case I meet a cute little kitty,” he said, and pushed his hand in their direction. “It’s tuna!”
“He thinks I’m c
ute!” Edith exclaimed. “And he has tuna! I LOVE tuna! Come on, let’s go!”
“No, Edith.”
Edith was frustrated. She pushed her lips together and squinted her eyes. She sniffed the air a bit. The tuna aroma continued to waft her way.
“Maybe he’s supposed to be here, Stick Cat,” she said. “Have you ever thought of that?”
“No, I haven’t.”
“Well, maybe he’s a special cat-loving visitor. Maybe he visits cats all over the world—and brings them treats. And today it’s our turn.”
“Seriously?” Stick Cat asked. “You really think that?”
“It’s possible,” Edith said immediately. “Let’s go get some tuna and find out.”
Stick Cat shook his head. “If he’s so special, then why did he sneak in here through the air-conditioning vent?”
Edith contemplated this for a moment. During that moment, the aroma of tuna filled the room even more. This seemed to encourage Edith to come up with a logical explanation.
“Maybe he’s like Santa Claus,” Edith said, and opened her eyes wide. “That explains it! Like Santa Claus comes through chimneys, this guy comes through air-conditioning vents!”
“I don’t think so.”
“And he has a costume—just like Santa,” Edith added. Now that she had come up with a theory, she believed in it wholeheartedly. “See the mask? That’s his costume. What do you say we get some tuna? Hunh? Hunh?”
“I think it’s more like a disguise than a costume.”
“Costume, disguise, whatever,” Edith said. She nudged her way past Stick Cat a bit. “Let’s discuss this over a tuna snack. What do you say?”
“You really think this man is Santa Claus?”
“Well, not Santa specifically,” Edith said. She seemed to be pleading her case. She really, really, really wanted some tuna—that was totally obvious. “He probably has a different name.”
“Like what?” Stick Cat asked.
“I don’t know,” Edith said. All of Stick Cat’s questions were bugging her. “Maybe it’s Todd.”
“Todd?”
“Sure, why not? Todd. Tuna Todd.”
“So, let me get this straight,” Stick Cat said. “You think ‘Todd’—”
“Tuna Todd,” Edith corrected.
“Right, yeah. Tuna Todd,” Stick Cat said, and continued. “You think Tuna Todd here is a hero of sorts. A guy who climbs through pipes all over the big city to pass out treats to cats?”
“A hero of some sort, that’s for sure,” Edith said, and nodded. “Sounds even more plausible when you add it all up, doesn’t it?”
“No.”
“Maybe a little tuna snack would help you get your mind around the idea.”
“No,” Stick Cat declared. “We stay put. Right here.”
The masked man stood up—but not before placing the little chunk of tuna on a corner of the vent grate lying on the carpet.
“Suit yourself, little kitties,” he said. “I can see you both back there. I’ll leave this here for now. I’m just going to have a quick look around.”
The masked man then opened the drawer of a table against the wall. Stick Cat knew exactly what was in there. It was one of his favorite playthings.
And Tuna Todd was going to take it.
Chapter 6
TUNA TODD GOES TO WORK
“A-ha!” exclaimed the man. There was pure delight in his voice. “A great find!”
He pulled a silver pocket watch from the drawer, swung it carefully on its chain for a moment. Its shiny surface glistened and sparkled as it reflected sunlight from the window. “This looks valuable.”
Stick Cat watched the masked man quickly untie the leather satchel from his belt. He opened it and dropped the pocket watch inside.
Goose’s grandfather had given the pocket watch to him on his tenth birthday. Goose had told the story as he swung the watch in the air and Stick Cat batted at it when he was a kitten.
And now it was gone.
“Do you still think this man—” Stick Cat began to ask Edith. But he was interrupted by her.
“His name is Tuna Todd,” she said. “Remember?”
Stick Cat paused for three seconds, decided debating the man’s name was not worth the time or effort, and asked Edith the whole question this time.
“Do you still think Tuna Todd is a hero?”
“Sure,” Edith answered quickly. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“He just stole Goose’s watch!”
“That was a watch?”
“Yes,” sighed Stick Cat. “Goose’s grandpa gave it to him.”
This took Edith aback. You could tell it bothered her. She cast her eyes down to the floor and shook her head slightly. She looked upset.
But only for six seconds.
After that short period of time, she lifted her head. Her expression had changed. She was smiling now.
“It makes perfect sense,” she said. “Of course he took it.”
“What?!” Stick Cat asked in complete disbelief. “How does that make sense?!”
“Think about it, Stick Cat,” Edith explained. “Tuna Todd makes dozens—maybe hundreds—of delicious fishy deliveries every day. He brings joy to cats all over the world. Now, to do that he needs to stay on a pretty tight schedule, don’t you think? A watch is vital for Tuna Todd to do his job.”
Stick Cat said nothing. There was a reason for that: he could think of nothing to say.
After rummaging through the drawer a little more, the man walked quietly to the kitchen. He seemed to have already forgotten about the cats. He concentrated fully on his task.
Stick Cat followed him. Edith left their spot behind the couch as well. But she took a little detour before joining Stick Cat at the kitchen doorway. When she did eventually stand next to him, Edith licked her whiskers and smacked her lips a couple of times.
Stick Cat couldn’t resist. He had to ask.
“How was the tuna?”
“Excuse me?” Edith answered. She did her best to look surprised.
“The tuna?” repeated Stick Cat. “You stopped to eat the tuna on the way over here, didn’t you?”
“Excuse me?”
Stick Cat pointed toward the air-conditioning vent cover on the floor. There was clearly no longer any tuna on it. “The tuna?”
Edith glanced back over her shoulder, realized there was likely no other explanation, and decided to admit what she had done. But she did so in typical Edith fashion.
“Stick Cat,” she began to explain. “That tuna was absolutely delicious! I’m so happy that Tuna Todd leaves it for deserving, well-behaved, good-looking cats all over the world.”
Stick Cat smiled, nodded, and commented, “You certainly are all of those things.”
“You’re right about that,” Edith said. She then asked, “What’s Tuna Todd up to now?”
Stick Cat turned his attention back toward the masked man in the kitchen. He was opening and closing drawers. He didn’t seem very satisfied with his findings. He kept whispering things like, “Nothing here” and “Zero” and “Where’s the good stuff?”
Finally he reached for the cookie jar on the counter next to the sink. The jar, like many other things in Stick Cat’s home, had a picture of a goose on it.
Stick Cat knew exactly what was in that jar—and he knew the masked man would take it.
For years, Goose had put paper money into that jar every week. Goose liked to call it his “Paris, France jar.”
You see, Paris was the one place in the whole world where Goose wanted to travel the most. Sometimes, he would talk to Stick Cat about it. Goose said he would eat out at fancy restaurants, climb the Eiffel Tower, and eat grapes right off the vine for breakfast.
Stick Cat could tell it was the one thing that Goose always wanted to do the most.
But Goose hadn’t made that trip yet for one simple reason. He wanted to take someone with him—someone really special who he hadn’t met yet.
So, on Su
nday night every week, Goose got his wallet, pulled some money out, and stuffed it into the jar on the counter. If Stick Cat was close, Goose would look at him and say, “One day, little buddy, I’ll find the right girl and the three of us will all go to Paris.”
Then he’d scratch Stick Cat under the chin and wash the dishes.
For Stick Cat, it was kind of nice and sad all rolled up together. It was fun to listen to Goose talk about his dream, but it was sad he hadn’t met someone to share it with.
And now Goose would never get the opportunity. Because the masked man reached into the cookie jar and said one thing with pure delight.
“Jackpot!”
He took all the money out, stuffed it into his satchel, and smiled the meanest, nastiest smile Stick Cat had ever seen.
Stick Cat was angry.
Really angry.
Stick Cat took two steps into the kitchen and snarled at the man.
The burglar turned to him, but he clearly misinterpreted Stick Cat’s intention.
“Well, look who’s back,” the man said. He looked past Stick Cat and Edith into the living room and saw that the tuna was no longer on the vent cover. “Came back for a little more tuna, right?”
As soon as he said this, Edith stepped into the kitchen and joined Stick Cat.
“All right,” the man said. He took the plastic bag from his pocket and placed two more big pinches of tuna on the floor. “Here you go, kitties. After that cookie jar find, I’m in a very, very good mood! Let’s see if I have any luck in the bedroom, shall we?”
The masked man stepped through the doorway—Stick Cat actually needed to dodge out of his way to avoid being stomped on. The man headed straight to Goose and Stick Cat’s bedroom.
Stick Cat stood perfectly still.
He had never felt this mad before. He had been scared before. He’d crossed the alley twice, after all. One time, he and Edith had used an apron on a clothesline twenty-three floors above street level. Another time they used a black cable and a napkin as a sort of zip line to get across.