by Betsy Byars
Special thanks to Amy Myers for her translation of Chico’s story.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Acknowledgments
CHAPTER 1 - Full Moon, Empty Streets
CHAPTER 2 - Fuzzy’s Two Worlds
DECEMBER 15
DECEMBER 16
CHAPTER 3 - Rama, the Gypsy Cat
DAY ONE
DAY TWO
DAY THREE
DAY FOUR
DAY FIVE
CHAPTER 4 - Library Cat
CHAPTER 5 - Whiskers and the Parachute
CHAPTER 6 - To Catch a Thief
CHAPTER 7 - Miu: The Great Cat of Egypt
CHAPTER 8 - Go-Go Goes Bananas
CHAPTER 9 - My Adventures
CHAPTER 10 - Pirate Cat, Treasure Hunter
CHAPTER 11 - Georgio’s Recipes for Outdoor Cuisine
FRESH FISH FILET
ALL-YOU-CAN-EAT EGG BUFFET
BIRD-TO-GO
WHACK-A-MOLEY
JUNIOR RODENT BURGER
ONE-BITE DELIGHTS (WITH THANKS TO MAMA)
CHAPTER 12 - Sarge’s One Wish
CHAPTER 13 - Meow! Till Next Year!
Copyright Page
CHAPTER 1
Full Moon, Empty Streets
It was the third full moon of the year when cats around the world began to disappear. The alleys and streets were quiet. Trash cans stood untouched, lids strangely in place. Dogs sniffed the air anxiously while mice ran freely, unafraid of predators. Music drifted from apartment windows, unaccompanied by feline howls.
The cat population had a meeting to attend. Large and small, old and young, cats headed to an old abandoned theater. When the room was filled, the eyes of the cats focused toward the front, where a large gray cat with battle scars made his way to the stage. He spoke.
“I, Ebenezer, call the meeting to order.”
“This better be good,” called a calico from the back. “I had to plot for three days to get out of the house to come.” A Siamese slunk back and forth along the sideline. “And I don’t have claws, so I took a big risk getting here.” A fat cat yelled, “It rained yesterday. You know how I hate to get my feet wet, but I did it just to get here, even though I heard we might be meeting with dogs.”
“Dogs?” a kitten asked, shaking.
“That was just a rumor,” Ebenezer said. “There was some discussion about a possible meeting with the WOOF Society, Words of Our Friends. You see, dogs have written diaries too.”
“Dogs? Diaries? Our dog can’t even clean himself,” a cat yelled.
“How many dogs have enough sense to write a diary?” said an alley cat.
“I agree. The dog in my house could no more write a diary than climb a tree.”
“Not so fast,” Ebenezer said. “I’ve read some dog diaries. The stories are not bad.”
Yowls erupted. Ebenezer waited for the sounds to die down, then spoke. “On to our business.”
“Tell us more,” called a young cat from the third row. “This is my first meeting.”
“As many of you know, for some time now we have been collecting writings by members of our feline community. We call this group MEOW (Memories Expressed in Our Writing).”
Meows of agreement echoed throughout the room. A paw went up.
“Yes, Cisco.”
Cisco cleared his throat.
“Hairball,” someone yelled from the back. Several cats laughed. Others coughed.
“Order!” called Ebenezer. “Cisco, go ahead.”
“What kinds of writings will we hear tonight?”
“There are many different tales.”
“Not from the Manx,” someone yelled. “They don’t have tails.”
Everyone laughed, except the Manxes, who hissed.
Ebenezer continued. “Throughout history, cats in their own quiet way have been writing stories—stories of their lives and the lives of others. Tonight, we will hear diaries from a Gypsy cat, a pirate cat, and many more.”
“Let’s get started,” called an Abyssinian.
“We will begin with the diary of a cat named Fuzzy, who learned that it’s a delicate balance to keep the best of both worlds. Now, get comfortable.”
Some cats curled into balls, others tucked their front paws neatly underneath their bodies. Everyone settled into position and awaited the first reading.
“Fuzzy, please come forward for the reading of the first of the cat diaries.”
CHAPTER 2
Fuzzy’s Two Worlds
DECEMBER 15
Today my family brought a tree into the house. You heard right, they brought a real tree in. This is a special treat for me because I don’t go out much. Some cats love out. I don’t. I love in, where it’s warm.
When the tree first arrived I sniffed it over and over. I sat underneath the tree while my family hung things on it—fuzzy things, shiny things, round things, things of different shapes and sizes. My favorite is a shiny red ball. It’s better than all my cat toys put together.
I plan to sleep under the tree all night and let the rich smell of pine fill my nostrils. Now that I have my own tree, my life is complete. I have the best of both worlds, in and out.
DECEMBER 16
Today my life is not complete. Today I do not have the best of both worlds.
This morning I was under the tree letting the smell of pine wash over me, when suddenly I had the most fantastic idea. I decided to climb the tree. I have sharp claws. I could do it.
I looked up. My red shiny ball was hanging on one of the top branches, swinging slightly as if to say, “Come on up.”
“I’ll be right there.” I purred.
I tested the tree, first with one paw, then the other. It felt firm, solid. I started up, squeezing past branches, dodging lights. I was halfway up when I stopped to swat at a few items hanging from the outer branches. It was fun!
I continued to climb—past balls, past beads. Then I felt a slight sway. I stopped. It must have been my imagination. I moved slowly to the next branch. Another sway. I paused to give the tree a chance to settle down.
I gazed across the room. The view was fantastic. I could see everything. What a great spot! If I could get a little higher, it would be even better. I could stay there all day, and no one would be able to see me.
I moved carefully to the next branch. Yes indeed, this was perfect.
Wait a minute! Did the tree move again? No. Wait. Yes. It did move. It’s moving more. This is not good. Not good at all. I think I’m going doooooooown.
The tree crashed into the middle of the room, taking me with it. We hit the floor with balls and beads flying everywhere. Then it was quiet. I got up and shook myself off. What do you know? The shiny red ball was right at my feet. I batted it around a few times.
“Fuzzy?” someone yelled from another room.
“Fuzzy!” others cried, hurrying in.
I was beginning to get a bad feeling about this. They weren’t happy. Someone picked me up.
“Fuzzy. OUT,” someone yelled.
“Out?” I meowed. “I love in. Wait. Don’t put me OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOUT.”
Slam. The door closed. Quickly I ran to the side window. Sometimes they let me in when I’m at that window.
“Here I am,” I cried, shivering.
They ignored me.
“Let me IIIIIIIIIIIN,” I yelled.
They ignored me. They were busy fixing the tree.
“You know you’re going to let me in eventually,” I whimpered.
Then I noticed they were hanging my red shiny ball back on the tree, on that same high branch where the good view is. Suddenly, I was not worried.
I’m sure they will let me in, because they always do. Soon I will be warm. I will be back under
my tree smelling the pine. I will climb to that high branch and sit next to my red shiny ball. Once again I will have the best of both worlds, in and out.
CHAPTER 3
Rama, the Gypsy Cat
Kansas, 1900
Read by Ebenezer
DAY ONE
“Tonight the music is sad,” the Gypsy woman said. I was on her lap, purring.
I have two purrs. Purr-one is a public purr. If anybody does something nice for me, I purr-one.
Purr-two is a private purr. It is deeper, warmer, for one person only. My purr-two is only for the Gypsy woman.
The Gypsy woman hummed and stroked my ears, my golden earring. She put the earring there when I was a kitten. She said, “Now you are a Gypsy like me. We Gypsies keep our eyes to the road ahead.”
The Gypsy woman lifted my paw and looked at it. “I’ll tell your future, Rama. What will tomorrow bring?”
She didn’t like what she saw, for she dropped my paw and sighed.
A sudden breeze brought an interesting smell from the forest. I jumped to the ground.
“No, Rama, no!” she called after me. “Not tonight, Rama! Tonight we—” I never heard the rest.
I caught a mouse first thing, then a fat chipmunk. I saved the chipmunk’s foot, a gift for the Gypsy woman.
Rain began to fall. I took shelter in a hollow tree. I was full. I was dry. I slept.
DAY TWO
The rain was harder, slanting into the hollow. I moved deeper inside.
By night I was hungry, but it was still raining. I wanted to be in the Gypsy woman’s wagon. I wanted to be on her lap. I wanted to purr-two. I ate the chipmunk foot.
DAY THREE
I left the tree and ran to camp. The clearing was empty. The wagons were gone. The Gypsy woman was gone too.
I saw the wagon tracks and started to follow. I ran like the wind. I was hungry, but I didn’t stop to hunt. I was thirsty, but I didn’t stop to drink.
The wagon tracks stopped at the river. It was not a deep river. Horses and wagons could cross. Cats could not.
I continued to run, hoping to find a way across. At sundown I smelled smoke. Food was cooking.
I thought it was the Gypsy woman. Maybe she had not crossed the river with the others. She was waiting for me!
I ran to the clearing. I stopped. There was one wagon. It was not the Gypsy woman. A man sat by the wagon. He was singing, but it was not a Gypsy song.
“Too-rah-lie-ooooooh,” he sang. The song ended. There was a silence.
I sat in the shelter of the trees and watched.
DAY FOUR
Morning came and still no sign of the Gypsy woman’s wagon. The man was sleeping on his blanket. His blanket looked comfortable. I had not planned to, but I meowed. The man looked up and saw me. He beckoned me over. I went slowly. He offered me food. I ate.
Then the man lay back down on his blanket. I sat down too and purred my thanks. The man rubbed my ear like the Gypsy woman did, and he saw my golden earring.
He said, “Me darlin’ mother, bless her soul, had such earrings back in Ireland.”
I answered, “Meiow.”
We began to talk. The man said, “Do you think you’d like to be a peddler’s cat? If so, then, me darlin’, you’re welcome to ride along.”
I said, “Meiow.”
After a while, he pulled me into the crook of his arm and closed his eyes.
I was full. I was warm. I was content.
The man was content too. A human purr-two rumbled inside his chest. I made a decision. My purr-one became deeper, warmer. Now it was a purr-two. The man and I purred ourselves to sleep together.
DAY FIVE
The peddler’s wagon pulled out of the clearing. I sat on the seat beside the man. I glanced over my shoulder to the river and then turned my eyes to the road ahead.
CHAPTER 4
Library Cat
There’s a large hedge in front of an old redbrick building at the corner of Irwin and Vine streets. In front of that building I was born and lived, but inside that wonderful building I found my life.
One morning a big yellow bus pulled up in front. Children got off and I watched. I felt small and afraid, but my curiosity got the best of me. When they went up the steps and through the door, I followed. I figured out that building was called the library.
The library was an amazing place, warm and quiet. The children’s voices hushed as they filed through the rows of books and settled in a most wonderful place. It was a room filled with sun, a floor covered with pillows of every color, and walls lined with the most amazing things. Books.
I snuggled down beside a girl who began to stroke my back. I purred softly and felt pure contentment. Sun filtered in through the windows, and the children shifted and found comfortable resting spots. A man in a red sweater with a kind face settled in a rocking chair, picked up a book from the top of the stack, and began to read.
In the story, an old man and his wife gave one lonely kitten a home. But then the old man and woman took in more and more cats until they had millions of cats. Finally the cats disappeared, and the one cat was left.
As I listened to the story my heart pounded. I hung on every word and I learned about myself. I could be loved too. Maybe I could find a home like the kitten in the story. I rolled over beside the girl and slept. This might be the perfect home.
When the children left, I stayed, snuggling down in the colored pillows.
The man in the red sweater said, “Well. What have we here?” He picked me up and looked me over. I purred and rubbed my head on his hand. He rubbed back. I liked the man right away.
“Okay,” he said. “Maybe you can stay … but just till we find you a home.” He made a sign that said FREE KITTEN. He gave me half of a tuna sandwich and a bowl of water.
That afternoon more children came and I hurried to the story nook. I sat by the man’s feet and looked up expectantly. He read a story about an incredible journey. A cat and his companions traveled across the country having adventures. I drew closer to the man’s feet. I did not want to go on any adventures. But as I listened, I felt my heart pound harder and I experienced the adventures too. As I listened to their story I learned about myself. I could be brave, if I needed to. I could have adventures, if I wanted to. I purred. Or maybe not.
That night, alone in the dark library, I was afraid. But I grew brave thinking about the story. I wandered through the great rooms. It was dark, but I could find my way easily through the shelves. I explored the library. I sniffed every corner. From one room there were scratching noises, and I hurried back to the pillows and hid. I wasn’t ready for that room yet. I was happy to see the man come the next morning. I rubbed around his leg and purred.
That day more children came, and he read a story about the history of Egypt. During a battle the Egyptian soldiers had cats to protect their bows and arrows. Without cats, the rats would come and eat the strings off the bows. The Syrian army did not have cats, so when they went to get their bows for battle, the bows had no strings and the Egyptians won the war. Cats saved the day.
I learned about history and I learned about myself. Cats like me were smart. I learned that I could be smart. I walked taller that day. With my head up and my tail straight, I led the children to the door and saw them out.
“Bye-bye, Library Cat,” one boy called to me, and I stood tall.
As I explored that night, I crouched and leaped boldly through the dark rooms. As I thought of the room with the scratching sounds, I thought about the cats in Egypt who saved the battle and fought the rats. I listened and heard the scratching again, but this time I went inside. The next morning when the man came in I put the mouse at his feet as a gift.
“Aha,” he said. “I guess we need a cat around here after all.” He took the sign that said FREE KITTEN and threw it away. I purred with happiness. The bus arrived, and as I snuggled down that day in the reading nook with the children, something was new: I belonged here.
I listene
d to another story, a delightful one about a girl who went down a rabbit hole. In the story was a Cheshire cat who had a huge smile, and the smile became so big that the cat disappeared and only the smile was left.
As I nodded off, I smiled. When I heard the story about the cat, I learned about myself. I was no longer small and scared and unsure of myself.
In front of the library I was born, but inside that wonderful building I found my life. I was loved like the little kitten, and brave like the cat who took the journey. I was smart like the Egyptian cats, and my smile was so wide and my happiness so big, that I felt just like that Cheshire cat.
CHAPTER 5
Whiskers and the Parachute
South Carolina, 1943
Read by Whiskers, a descendant
of the original Whiskers
“Find the cat! Find the cat!”
Anytime Johnny wanted to find me, I didn’t want to be found. This time he had two kids to help him; I didn’t have a chance. They found me under the sofa and took me to the basement.
“What are you making, Johnny?” one kid asked.
Johnny said a word I had never heard before. The kids looked impressed, so I knew it was something terrible. The word was parachute.
Johnny said, “I saw parachutes in a war movie last week.”
“What’s a parachute?” one boy asked. He didn’t know either.