and clerks and customers
from the Piggly Wiggly.
He ignored Joe
from Joe’s Gas and Grill
and the woman
who had pulled her car
over to the curb
to see what the commotion
was about.
The only one Gus paid attention to
was Patches,
lying flat
beneath his paw.
“Gus,” she said again,
in a voice almost as squeezed
as she was.
“You can’t do this!”
Though he could,
of course.
Nonetheless,
Gus listened.
He looked closely at Patches,
too.
She didn’t just look squeezed.
She looked scared.
Of me? he thought.
Could this dear little cat be afraid of me?
“I’m sorry,” he said,
so softly
that no one heard except
the cat beneath his paw.
“All I wanted . . .
the only thing
in all the world I wanted
was for you and your babies
to stay.”
And he lifted his great gray paw,
freeing Patches . . .
at last.
She stood
slowly.
First she gave her three-colored coat
a few licks
to put everything
back in place.
Then she looked into Gus’s brown eyes
with her golden ones
and said,
“These babies need me,
Gus,
and I need to go home.
So they must
go home
with me!”
Gus’s ears went so
f
l
a
t
a
n
d
l
i
m
p
that they touched
beneath his chin.
He didn’t argue,
though.
He just rose
slowly.
When he was full on his feet,
the crowd gasped.
Until then
no one but Patches had known
what was hidden
between the great dog’s paws.
But there they were,
three tiny, new kittens,
one black,
one orange tabby,
one calico,
curled into a furry pile!
Three kittens
for all the world to see!
“Oh!” the girl cried.
“Oh! Oh! Oh!
Kittens!
My Patches
had
kittens!”
And everyone
who had come
when the girl had called, “HELP!”—
all of them feeling
more courageous now
that the boy was there
to take charge
of the meanest dog in town—
opened the gate
and flowed into the yard.
They gathered close
to see
the perfect wonder
of babies.
Patches,
just to make sure everyone knew
the babies were,
indeed,
hers,
gave each a lick
with her rough, pink tongue.
And to show
not only that they were hers,
but how proud
she was,
she turned on the loudest
mother-motor purr
anyone had ever heard
from such a small cat.
The boy stood
with a hand on Gus’s collar,
just to make sure,
while the girl gathered
Patches
and her kittens
to take them home.
(One of the mail carriers helped.
She was delivering mail
to the girl’s house
anyway,
she said,
and mother and babies
fit comfortably
inside her pouch.)
Gus watched
sadly
as the girl
and the mail carrier,
his cat
and his kittens,
all
disappeared
down the street.
The excitement over,
everyone else left
as well.
The other mail carriers.
The clerks from the Piggly Wiggly.
The customers,
too.
Joe from Joe’s Gas and Grill.
Even the woman
who had stopped
to check out
the commotion.
All of them gone.
Only the boy stayed.
He sat down, put his arms around his dog,
and leaned into him
the way he used to do
when Gus lived
inside the house.
If dogs had been given
the gift
of tears,
Gus would have wept,
but since he had no tears,
he just hung
his great head
and leaned
into his boy.
After a few minutes,
though,
the boy hugged Gus
one last time,
got up from the grass,
and went inside the house.
He had homework waiting.
Later
he brought out a special treat,
hamburger
mixed in with the dry kibble.
But Gus didn’t want
a special treat.
He didn’t want
dinner at all.
He just wanted Patches
and Moonshadow
and Little Thomas
and Gustina.
When the boy went inside
again,
Gus lifted his great head
and howled.
He was still howling
when Patches
and her kittens
were settled
in a comfy box
in the corner
of the warm kitchen.
He was howling
when the girl
and her mother
and her father
sat down to dinner,
all of them
watching proudly
over their fine cat family.
(As proudly as if
they had been the ones
to bring the kittens
into the world.)
He was howling
when all the town
turned off their lights
and went to bed.
And he was howling
when everyone got up
the next morning,
their eyes heavy
from lack of sleep.
Gus howled
through all of the next day
and into another night.
And then,
a few restless hours
after everyone had climbed
into their beds,
hoping
at last
to sleep,
the howling ceased.
It just stopped mid-howl,
as though someone
had turned off
a switch.
Or as though
the heart
of the great gray dog
had finally shattered.
Few worried
about what might have happened
to Gus,
thoug
h.
The entire town
simply sighed
with relief.
The meanest dog in town
was silent . . .
at last.
Only the boy
in the tan house
and the girl
in the house
with the golden tree
and the watching window
(and the row of bright-berry bushes)
sat up in their beds,
suddenly uneasy.
But then,
because they were tired
too,
they lay back down,
each of them,
and went to sleep.
Patches lifted her head
and laid a protective paw
across her babies.
She had grown rather accustomed
to Gus’s howl.
She’d found the sound
almost soothing.
At least,
when she heard the great dog’s voice,
she knew
exactly where he was . . .
on the corner
across from the post office.
On the corner,
behind a high chain-link fence.
No longer holding her
and her kittens
hostage
with a heavy paw.
Patches tucked her babies in
closer
and lay her chin across her brood.
“Mine,”
she murmured.
She was home,
she reminded herself.
She and her babies were safe.
She had her girl
and her chipped blue bowl
and this warm box
inside her familiar house.
What else could a mother cat
possibly need?
Still . . .
the silence worried her.
What might
an enormous dog
who longed to have her babies
as his own
do
next?
Are you worried
too?
Will Gus hurt Patches
and the kittens
if he gets
a chance?
After all,
some folks,
if they can’t have what they want,
don’t want anyone else
to have it
either.
Or perhaps you are worried
about Gus.
When a dog
has a name,
he doesn’t seem
quite so mean
anymore,
does he?
And when you’ve seen
the way he licked
those kittens—
so gently—
well . . .
maybe we should check
on Gus.
Just to make sure.
Here’s what we’ll find:
The big gray dog had simply run out of voice
for howling,
so he’d begun prowling the fence
instead.
Silent,
sad,
looking for a way out.
He checked the hole
he’d dug
in the corner.
But a tunnel
just the right size
for a small cat
was no use to him.
And though he tried
to dig
down
deeper,
he
ran
into rock
and had to give that up.
He couldn’t climb over the top,
either.
One paw got caught in the mesh
when he tried,
and it took him several minutes
to pull it out.
Still
he kept walking
back
and
forth
checking
this
and
that
until at last
he stopped
at the gate.
Could the solution be so simple?
With all the going
in
and
out
recently,
someone had left the latch loose.
Gus stood on his hind legs
and touched it with his nose.
Bump . . . bump . . .
The latch fell away.
A little push
and
the
gate
swung
open.
Gus stepped out
onto the sidewalk.
Free!
Now,
all he had to do was to find
his cat
and his kittens.
But how would he locate them?
He couldn’t follow the scent.
Patches and her kittens had been
lifted off the ground
tucked away
in the mail carrier’s bag.
Gus sniffed the sidewalk
and found
nothing.
Nothing,
that is,
except . . . one small mouseling.
The mouseling had been so proud
to lead Patches to her home
and so proud
to scare the girl
and get Patches released
again
that when Gus
finally stopped howling,
the mouseling had decided to check.
Perhaps the great gray dog
needed his help
too!
Dog and mouseling
faced each other
on the sidewalk,
and for just a moment
the mouseling considered the possibility
that he might have made a serious
mistake.
Gus was so very BIG!
But then the little mouse gathered his courage
and squeaked,
“Do you want me to show you where they are?”
And,
of course,
Gus wanted exactly that.
So the enormous dog
followed the mouseling through town,
lifting his huge feet
with great care
and setting them down
more carefully
still.
It would never do
to step on a mouseling,
especially one so eager to help.
When they arrived at the house
with the golden tree
and the watching window
and the bright-berry bushes growing
around the base,
the mouseling paused,
and Gus did too.
“Remember,”
the mouseling said,
feeling very solemn
and very grown-up.
“Remember what?”
Gus asked.
“If you only say, ‘Please,’
she won’t eat you.”
Then he helped himself
to another bright-red berry
and scurried home.
What an idea!
Patches eating him!
If dogs could laugh,
that’s what Gus would have done.
As it was,
he smiled.
Dogs are very good at smiling!
Then
he
sat
down
on the front porch,
right next to the morning newspaper,
to wait.
The instant Patches woke,
she knew.
Gus was at the front door.
Even with the door
tightly shut,
she could smell him.
(I presume you haven’t forgotten
about Gus’s smel
l.)
As I’ve already mentioned,
it wasn’t a smell she minded,
except for the fact
that it came with a dog
who had tried to steal
her kittens . . .
and her,
for that matter.
But still,
she did not want the smell—
or the dog who came with it—
in her house.
So though Patches stayed
in her cardboard box,
watching over her kittens,
she kept her golden gaze
on the front door.
Soon her man would get
out of bed
and open the door
to get his newspaper.
And what would Gus do?
Dash inside
and snatch
her kittens
away?
If only she could warn
her humans!
(What a shame
that humans
can’t be bothered to learn to understand
cat and dog!
Or squirrel and rabbit and bird,
for that matter.
Whale and wolf,
frog and snake
would be useful
too.
How much gentler
our world could be
if we only knew how to listen
to one another.)
But Patches could do nothing
but wait to see
what would happen,
her heart galloping
in her chest.
And exactly the thing she had feared
took place.
The man opened the front door
without a thought
for what might be waiting
on the other side—
except for his newspaper—
Gus into house.
and
exploded the
Before anyone could say,
“Oh!”
or
“Help!”
or even
“WHOOPS!”
the enormous gray dog
was dashing through,
his nose scooping up scents
like a vacuum cleaner
sucking dust.
His very fine
sense of smell
took him straight to the kitchen.
He skidded to a stop
in front of the cardboard box
that held Patches
and her kittens
and stood gazing at them all,
his tail wagging fiercely.
(The back-and-forth sweeps
of his whiplike tail
knocked
a pepper grinder,
two place mats,
and a sugar bowl
off the kitchen table,
but he paid no attention.)
Patches leaped to her feet.
Seeing Gus standing over her—
and her babies!—
brought back the memory
of a heavy paw
pressing on her back.
Even worse,
it brought back the moment
when Gus had held her kittens
between his paws
and said,
“MINE!”
So Patches brought out
the only weapons she possessed.
She puffed her tail,
arched her back,
and rumbled a growl in her throat.
G-R-R-R-R-R-R!
Followed by a hiss.
Sha-a-a-a-a!
Her
curving
claws
slipped out of their sheaths.
Gus was amazed,
Little Cat's Luck Page 7