Two Cats and a Baby Read online

  DEDICATION

  To Jacob

  (MTAY)

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Cover

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Chapter 1A:It’s Mary’s Birthday

  Chapter 1:Beauty Sleep

  Chapter 2:The Missing Sausage Links

  Chapter 3:Grandma Cobb

  Chapter 4:Leftovers

  Chapter 5:CLUNK!

  Chapter 6:Trapped

  Chapter 7:Millie Doesn’t Mess Around

  Chapter 8:Edith Shakes

  Chapter 9:Edith Tries Again

  Chapter 10:Maraschino Cherries

  Chapter 11:Giant Balloons

  Chapter 12:Where’s Edith?

  Chapter 13:Action, Stick Cat, Action

  Chapter 14:Furniture Doesn’t Wear Jewelry

  Chapter 15:Almost There

  Chapter 16:A Terrible Sound

  Chapter 17:Look Who’s Coming

  Chapter 18:Sleepy Time

  Chapter 19:Keeping Warm

  Back Ad

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  Chapter 1A

  IT’S MARY’S BIRTHDAY

  You know Mary, right?

  I wrote the first Stick Cat story for her.

  And the second.

  And the third.

  She’s in my class. And she’s, umm, you know, cute.

  There I said it.

  She’s also obsessed with cats. She has two pet cats, but that’s not all. She also has cat sweaters, bags, notebooks, pencil erasers, and loads of other cat stuff too. For real.

  In English class, I usually write Stick Dog stories. But I got Mary to, you know, like me or whatever, by writing Stick Cat stories and letting her read them. She even asked me to the Sweetheart Dance. And I’m pretty sure that she was super-impressed with my dancing skills. I got rhythm, you know what I mean?

  And guess who has a birthday next month?

  That’s right, Mary.

  And guess what I’m going to give her?

  Right again.

  Another Stick Cat story.

  Note to self: tear out this chapter before giving to Mary.

  Chapter 1

  BEAUTY SLEEP

  It was morning and the sun began to rise above the big city.

  Edith was half asleep on the windowsill. Her eyelids drooped down to nearly shut. Stick Cat jumped up softly and quietly next to her.

  Nobody in their apartment—not Stick Cat, Edith, Goose, Tiffany, or Mildred—had gotten much sleep the previous night.

  Who is Mildred?

  Good question.

  A lot has happened since the last Stick Cat story when he and Edith captured the dangerous and fearsome burglar named Tuna Todd.

  I’ll try to catch you up real quick-like.

  Okay, after the police took Tuna Todd away, Goose (Stick Cat’s roommate) and Tiffany (Edith’s roommate) saw each other for the first time through the hole in the wall between their two apartments. Edith and Stick Cat had scratched and clawed at the wall to make that hole so they could spend their days together when Goose and Tiffany went to work.

  Well, when Goose and Tiffany saw each other through that hole, two totally important things happened.

  First, they fell in love at first sight.

  Second, when it was obvious that love was in the air, Edith said, “Gross.”

  Edith doesn’t like romance.

  What else happened? Let me tell you.

  After dating a few months and taking a trip to Paris, France, Goose and Tiffany got married back in his hometown, which is a few hours outside of the big city. It was a lovely day. In the evening at Picasso Park, there was a wedding celebration with fireworks. And there was a buffet that included barbecue ribs and mashed potatoes. There was also a huge, tall, elegant, multitiered wedding cake.

  Edith, umm, ate a LOT of that cake.

  And Stick Cat shared an entire layer of that wonderful cake with five hungry stray dogs. There was a poodle, a dachshund, a Dalmatian, and a couple of others. You might have read all about that in my story Stick Dog Crashes a Party.

  When they arrived back in the big city, Tiffany and Edith moved into Goose and Stick Cat’s apartment.

  About ten months later, Mildred was born.

  That’s who Mildred is. She’s the baby. Everybody just calls her Millie.

  Millie is not a very good sleeper.

  She likes to wake up in the middle of the night. And when she wakes up in the middle of the night, Millie likes to cry.

  This is fine with almost everybody in the apartment. That’s because they know that Millie is just a baby. They know that she gets hungry. She wants to know where she is. She might be afraid of the dark. She might be lonely.

  Everybody is fine with it.

  Well, almost everybody.

  Goose is fine with it.

  Tiffany is fine with it.

  Stick Cat is fine with it.

  Edith, however, is not fine with it.

  “Did you hear that little beast last night?” asked Edith when Stick Cat hopped up next to her on the windowsill.

  “You mean Millie?”

  “Of course I mean Millie,” Edith huffed. Her frustration showed. “I mean, that tiny monster just would not shush up!”

  “I think babies often wake up in the night like that,” Stick Cat commented. He had heard these complaints from Edith before. And he was more interested, frankly, in watching the sunrise. This was Stick Cat’s favorite part of the day. He was just beginning to eyeball the different sections of the city as the sunlight crept across the rooftops. He watched as the windows went from a dull, flat gray to a glistening gold and orange when the sunlight reached them.

  He didn’t watch for long though.

  Edith demanded his attention.

  “Stick Cat, look at me,” she said.

  Stick Cat looked at her.

  “I don’t think you’re taking this problem seriously enough,” Edith said. Her eyes were fierce-looking.

  “What problem?” Stick Cat asked. Truthfully, he had already forgotten what Edith was talking about.

  “The not-sleeping problem!”

  “Oh,” Stick Cat replied. “I don’t think we should worry about it. I think most babies have trouble sleeping. Millie will probably grow out of it soon. She’ll be fine.”

  “Stick Cat!” Edith exclaimed. There was the tiniest hint of anger in her voice. “I’m not talking about Millie’s sleeping problem. I’m talking about my sleeping problem!”

  “Oh.”

  “If I don’t get a good eighteen or twenty hours of sleep every day, it can affect my mood,” Edith explained.

  “A lack of sleep can affect your mood?”

  “Most definitely.”

  “How so?”

  “Well, I can become selfish, obstinate, prissy, and overbearing, that’s how,” answered Edith. “Instead of my usual caring, wholesome, kind, and patient self.”

  Stick Cat hesitated a single second before responding, “I see.”

  Edith seemed content that Stick Cat understood now. She repositioned herself a bit on the windowsill, swishing her tail from one side of her body to the other. She did it with just a touch of flair, allowing the very tip of her tail to snap a bit before fluttering down to stillness. She grinned to herself at her own magnificence before continuing the conversation.

  “So?” she asked.

  Stick Cat asked, “So what?”

  “So, how are we going to stop this rotten munchkin from crying in the middle of the night?” Edith asked. She seemed exasperated that Stick Cat was not following her train of thought this morning.

  “I’m not sure there’s anything we can do,” Stick Cat replied honestly.
>
  “Well, I don’t want to hear it,” huffed Edith. “There must be something we can do about this itty-bitty menace to society.”

  “I think babies just cry sometimes,” Stick Cat said, and turned from Edith and stared out the window. He was just starting to feel the change in temperature outside—just feeling the day’s first hint of warmth as the sun’s light began to wash across the city.

  “I have an idea,” Edith said.

  Stick Cat turned back to her. “What is it?”

  “Well, you know how I’m a most excellent singer, right?”

  Now, Stick Cat knew that Edith was definitely NOT a most excellent singer. In fact, her piercing, screeching, earsplitting “singing” reminded him of someone rubbing sandpaper across some violin strings while a fire alarm was blaring.

  But Stick Cat didn’t mention this.

  Instead, he said, “Yes.”

  “So, maybe I should put my finely tuned harmonies to work on Millie when she wakes up at night.”

  “How so?”

  “I could sing her a lullaby,” Edith said with pride. “She would fall right back to sleep with my magnificent melodies. I would single-handedly turn Screaming Demon Millie into Sleeping Angel Millie. I’d be a hero!”

  This was, without a doubt, the absolute worst idea Stick Cat had ever heard. If Edith suddenly started “singing” in the middle of the night, the whole building—heck, the whole big city—would wake up and be scared out of their wits. But he, of course, couldn’t say that to Edith.

  “Umm,” Stick Cat said as he worked to find something to say.

  And while he delayed, Edith tapped her left front paw on the windowsill three times.

  Tap. Tap. Tap.

  She wanted a response.

  But Stick Cat didn’t need to provide one, thank goodness.

  Because right then Tiffany called out, “Breakfast time!”

  Edith jumped down from the window and raced toward the kitchen.

  Chapter 2

  THE MISSING SAUSAGE LINKS

  Stick Cat hurried to the kitchen too. Nowadays, he looked forward to his meals almost as much as Edith.

  You see, when Tiffany and Edith moved in, Stick Cat’s meals got WAY better. Goose had always provided Stick Cat with pouch food. He would switch the flavors every couple of weeks, but Stick Cat’s food always, always, always came from a plastic pouch.

  Not anymore.

  Tiffany had been making hearty gourmet meals for Edith for years. And now that they all lived together that meant Stick Cat got gourmet meals too.

  Today’s breakfast was huevos rancheros and sausage links.

  Edith was already eating when Stick Cat arrived. His bowl was right next to hers.

  “How are the eggs?” asked Stick Cat.

  “Good,” Edith mumbled as she chewed. After swallowing, she added, “Tiffany put more salsa in mine. Extra spicy. I like my eggs extra spicy!”

  “I know you do,” Stick Cat responded, and smiled. Edith was always happy around mealtime.

  “Because I’m extra spicy.”

  “I know you are,” Stick Cat, still smiling, said. He looked down into his bowl. “And how is this sausage link?”

  “They were really good.”

  “‘They’?” asked Stick Cat. “Did you get more than one sausage link?”

  “Yes, we both got three,” Edith answered, and dropped her head toward her remaining eggs.

  Stick Cat looked into his bowl again. There was a small mound of eggs with a little salsa on top and there was one sausage link.

  One sausage link.

  One.

  Exactly.

  It only took a few seconds for Stick Cat to develop a theory about what had happened to his other two sausages.

  “Umm, Edith?”

  She answered in a mumble through a mouthful of spicy—extra spicy—scrambled eggs and salsa. “Mm-hmm?”

  “Do you know what might have happened to my other two sausage links?”

  What occurred next was quite revealing—and provided Stick Cat with an obvious answer.

  Edith, who before Stick Cat’s question was munching and chewing and swallowing furiously, suddenly stopped. The fur on the back of her neck shot up. She had gone from being a busy, hungry cat one second to a totally still and busted cat one second later.

  Stick Cat saw this and grinned to himself. He didn’t really care about the two sausage links. But he did like to have fun with Edith about such things.

  “Edith?”

  “Yes?” She still hadn’t moved.

  Stick Cat repeated his question. “Do you know what happened to my sausage links?”

  Edith finally relaxed. The fur on the back of her neck collapsed back down to its normal position. She inhaled and exhaled more comfortably. Her shoulders became less stiff. To Stick Cat, it appeared she had come up with an answer.

  “Are you sure you haven’t eaten them already?” she asked.

  “I just got here.”

  “Hmm,” Edith said. “It is a curious thing, isn’t it?”

  Stick Cat did not respond. He looked forward to Edith’s next theory. In a few seconds he heard it.

  “Maybe they jumped over to my bowl,” she posed.

  “Can sausages jump?”

  “I don’t see why not,” Edith said. There was a glimmer of hope in her voice, as if she believed that Stick Cat might actually be buying into her notion. “They are warm and chewy. Kind of springy. Maybe they hopped over here. Maybe.”

  “It’s possible, I guess,” said Stick Cat. “If so, could you pass them back, please?”

  “They aren’t over here,” Edith said. “They must have just kept hopping and jumping—those crazy little buggers! They must have jumped from your bowl and then just continued hopping. I bet they jumped right out of the kitchen window. Crazy, right? They must be long gone.”

  “Edith?”

  “Yes?”

  “The window is closed.”

  “Oh,” she said, and paused. “Maybe they didn’t jump at all.”

  “If I haven’t eaten them already and they didn’t jump out of the kitchen window,” Stick Cat said. He wasn’t going to prolong this too much. He wanted to get to his breakfast. But he did want to see if Edith had another explanation. “What do you think happened to my sausages?”

  “Maybe Tiffany miscounted,” Edith suggested. “Maybe she thought she counted three sausages when she really just gave you one.”

  “You think she miscounted to three?”

  “It’s possible,” Edith said. Then she whispered, “She’s not all that bright.”

  “I think she can count to three.”

  “Well, then,” Edith said. She had tired of the conversation. “I give up. I guess your missing sausages will remain a mystery forever.”

  Stick Cat watched as Edith, apparently convinced that the conversation was now complete, leaned down to lap some water. He smiled at her.

  “Edith?”

  “Yes,” she answered between drinks.

  “I think your hopping sausages idea might be right, after all.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes, I do,” answered Stick Cat. “I think my sausages hopped out of my bowl just like you said.”

  “I’m glad you can see the logic-ocity and smart-issiness of my sausage-hopping theory,” Edith said. She seemed delighted that Stick Cat had come around to actually believing one of her explanations.

  Seeing this, Stick Cat decided to offer Edith a ready-made excuse. And he decided it was time to eat his breakfast.

  “I think those gosh-darn sausages hopped right into your mouth,” he said. “It’s not your fault you ate them.”

  “I think I would have noticed if your sausages sprang into my mouth, Stick Cat,” Edith said slowly. She had the strangest look about her right then. Her head tilted just a tad to the left, her pupils dilated, getting bigger and bigger. Her whiskers twitched. She didn’t look quite devious, but she did look menacing. She was not going
to take the blame. Edith had thought of another idea.

  Stick Cat couldn’t tell what she was up to. He lowered his head to take his first breakfast bite.

  “Wait a minute, wait a minute,” Edith said. She had finished her meal and had more time to talk now. “I know what happened. I know who took your scrumptious sausages!”

  Stick Cat swallowed his first bite and lifted his head from his bowl. He asked, “Who?”

  “Millie!” Edith said. “That sneaky, chubby villain must have crawled over here earlier. I bet she did it!”

  “Edith,” Stick Cat said. “Millie doesn’t know how to crawl yet. She can roll over, lie on her back, and sit up. That’s it. She needs to be carried everywhere.”

  “Maybe she started crawling when nobody was looking, Stick Cat!” Edith shot back. “Did you ever think of that?”

  “No,” he answered. “I hadn’t thought that she started crawling and you, me, Goose and Tiffany never noticed. Even though, you know, if she did, she’d be crawling all over the place. And I think it’s a pretty big deal—like a really big deal—when a baby starts to crawl.”

  “Maybe she doesn’t want anybody to know so she can sneak around and cause trouble—like stealing sausages,” Edith explained. You could tell she liked this idea of blaming Millie for something. “That would be just like her.”

  Stick Cat didn’t believe any of it, of course. But that didn’t stop Edith from continuing.

  “That’s it, all right! Mystery solved,” Edith summed up. “That malicious, marauding Millie rolled over from her back, crawled right over here, and took your sausages! Then she crawled right back to wherever she was, rolled over onto her back again, and ate them!”

  Edith looked at Stick Cat, smiled, and nodded. She was very happy with her explanation. It got herself off the hook while simultaneously shifting the blame to Millie, who had interrupted so much of her beauty sleep last night.

  “I doubt that Millie—” he started to say, but he didn’t finish.