Ava and Taco Cat Read online

  I nodded, trying to be understanding, but I still wished Zara hadn’t zeroed in on my BFF. “Doesn’t Zara ever get on your nerves?” I asked. “She says really random things.”

  “Everyone says random things,” Maybelle said, and it occurred to me that while Zara can be insensitive, maybe I can be oversensitive. “And you don’t have to like her just because I like her.”

  “I don’t hate her…” I said quietly. “But I like when it’s just us.”

  Taco Cat came padding over and I reached down to pet him. Instead of running away, he stayed still. I went to get his brush, and Maybelle and I took turns brushing him and brushing him.

  You are not going to believe what happened next!

  Brace yourself because this is BIG!

  Taco Cat was lying there, letting us brush him by the fire for like, three minutes, and then, out of the blue, I heard a rhythmic sound, a soft gentle rumble bumble rumble bumble. It was coming from him! He was purring!

  And purring!!

  And purring!!!

  He remembered that he had a little purring motor inside him, and he turned it on!

  Maybelle and I kept brushing him, and we kept looking at each other and smiling.

  “It’s the first time he’s ever purred!” I whispered. “I’m glad you’re here with me.”

  “Me too,” she whispered back. “You think purring is how cats say, ‘I feel happy’?”

  “Or ‘I feel safe’?” I said.

  “Or ‘Thank you’?” she said.

  “Or ‘I love you’?” We kept brushing and brushing, and Taco kept purring and purring. “My mom said cats also communicate by blinking. It’s their way of blowing a kiss.”

  “Don’t some cats communicate by killing mice and birds and leaving them on doorsteps as tokens of affection?”

  “Do they?” I asked, horrified.

  “Maybe not in winter,” Maybelle said.

  Taco kept purring away, and I hoped he would never bring me a dead mouse or chickadee valentine.

  “Some big cats purr too,” I said. “Lions and tigers roar, but cheetahs and pumas purr.”

  “Zara’s pet guinea pig used to purr,” Maybelle said.

  We kept listening to Taco Cat’s rumble bumble rumble bumble, and I was glad that Maybelle was here to hear it (homonym alert), even if she did bring up Zara.

  It’s funny how some big events really are newsworthy. Like when rockets go into space, or athletes beat world records, or presidents get elected.

  But some big events are kind of small. Like when your cat comes out in the open or finally purrs. Or when a shy person opens up like a flower bud. Or when two best friends clear the air.

  Later, as Maybelle was putting on her winter coat to go home, she said, “Ava, Zara is my new friend, but you’re my old friend and my best friend. And that’s a much bigger deal.”

  Ava, A #1

  1/15

  before school

  Dear Diary,

  I’m glad Maybelle and I talked yesterday. And maybe Zara really did need a friend. Like Taco did. And maybe Maybelle needed someone to talk to about bras and growing-up stuff, especially since she doesn’t have a sister and it’s possible that I have been a teeny tiny itty bitty eensy weensy bit cat-consumed.

  Zara doesn’t have sisters or brothers either. She never even talks about her parents—just her grandparents.

  I am trying to be mature about everything—which is not particularly easy. (Maturity may not be my strong suit.)

  By the way, Pip got jealous that Taco purred for Maybelle, and not her, so I told her that next time Taco settles under a lamp or by the fire or in a spot of sunshine, she should tiptoe over and brush him softly. (Usually, Pip and Taco play runaround games. She chases him around the living room or they play a game we call Bat and Bite. It’s when Pip jiggles a ribbon and Taco bats it and bites it!)

  Last night, I let Pip feed Taco. We’d gone to the Great Wall for dinner (the squid came with tentacles, yuck!), and when we came home, I forgot to feed Taco. It was the first time that ever happened! Well, he rubbed my shins and also gently bit my ankle to remind me, but by then I was upstairs and about to get in bed, so I told Pip she could feed him. Pip was happy, and this morning, she told me that when Taco heard her open the bag, he came running!

  Here are three sounds Taco loves:

  1. A can of cat food being opened

  2. A bag of cat food being shaken

  3. A bag of cat treats coming out of the R-E-W-A-R-D-D-R-A-W-E-R

  Here are four sounds Taco hates:

  1. Dad grinding coffee

  2. Mom using her hair dryer

  3. Me using the blender

  4. Mom or Dad vacuuming

  Ava, Aware and Observant

  P.S. We got fortune cookies after dinner. Pip’s said, “You have a yearning for perfection.” Mine said… well, I’ll tape it here:

  Declare peace every day.

  1/15

  after school

  Dear Diary,

  In the library, Mr. Ramirez said he liked my cat and moon haiku, and that when Jerry Valentino comes to our school in ten days, a reporter from the town newspaper, the Misty Oaks Monitor, is going to “cover” the workshop.

  “Cover?”

  “Write about it,” he explained, then added, “Zara said you and your sister have been working on a picture book called Something Fishy.”

  “Alphabet Fish,” I corrected, only half-surprised that Zara had blabbed about—and retitled—our book.

  But for once, maybe it was good that Zara had meddled, because I blurted, “Do you think Mr. Valentino could critique it?” I’d never used that word, but it was a bonus word on today’s spelling test. It means to “evaluate or read critically.”

  “Maybe…” Mr. Ramirez said, taken aback. “Is it short?”

  That was funny because that’s always the first thing I want to know about a book. “It’s mostly pictures,” I said.

  “I don’t see why not,” he said. “It wouldn’t be fair to ask him to read a student novel, but a short book, sure.”

  “We haven’t quite finished.”

  “Can you have it ready by next Friday?”

  “Yes,” I said even though I didn’t know how Pip would react to a deadline.

  “Don’t sacrifice quality for speed,” he cautioned.

  “We won’t,” I said. And then, even though I haven’t been all that into Alphabet Fish lately, I started daydreaming. I was giving the book to Mr. Ramirez, who was giving it to Mr. Valentino, who was giving it to an agent, who was giving it to an editor, who was giving it to a publisher, who was giving it to the factory people who turn floppy pages into hardcover books, who were giving it to librarians and bookstore owners and reviewers and bloggers who were all telling regular readers about it. In my mind, our ABC book was on its way to being a bestseller! In my mind, Pip and I were about to be a world-famous writer-artist sister duo!

  I tried to remind myself of the Aesop moral: “Don’t count your chickens before they are hatched.” But it was hard not to start counting. In fact, I started picturing a basket of eggs and a half dozen baby chicks hatching out of shells, their tiny beaks first, peep peep peep, cheep cheep cheep.

  One two three

  four five six…

  Chick chick chick

  chicks chicks chicks…

  Ava Ignoring Aesop

  1/15

  bedtime

  Dear Diary,

  I told Pip that Mr. Ramirez said he would give our book to Jerry. I even mentioned that we might turn into a world-famous author-illustrator team.

  “Dream on, Ava,” Pip said, but I bet she has been daydreaming too. She once told me that while she would not want to be famous, she would like to be an artist.

  I handed her:


  Q is for queen triggerfish.

  The queen triggerfish is big and bright;

  It changes colors and sleeps at night.

  Then I casually mentioned that we had to finish by next Friday.

  “What??!” Pip said, her voice rising. “Ava, we still have ten letters to go!” She was freaking out, but I think she was also getting extra inspired because next thing you know, she was drawing an elaborate border of shiny golden crowns for the Q page and telling me to get to work on “rainbow trout.”

  I am now going to bed. I’m going to leave my door wide open in case Taco Cat decides to visit. Lately, when Pip and I have been writing or drawing, he’ll plunk himself on top of our picture book as if asking to be petted—or maybe saying, “I dare you to make me move.”

  Pip says it’s annoying. Me, I never mind putting down my pen and picking up my cat. I love that he’s becoming more affectionate!

  Ava, Affectionate

  P.S. Chuck and I have gone over a week without talking. Bea said I should try to act normal with him, but how can I when we haven’t been sitting next to each other? Is he avoiding me? (Or does he…miss me a little too?) I can’t believe Zara caused so much trouble with one stupid question! Arrrggghh!

  1/16

  Saturday N-O-O-N

  Dear Diary,

  Here are my latest poems:

  S is for seahorse.

  With a kangaroo’s pouch and a horse’s head,

  The dad carries the babies and makes sure they’re fed.

  and

  T is for trumpetfish.

  The slow trumpetfish is straight as a stick,

  Hiding in branches is its very best trick.

  Speaking of hiding, Taco Cat isn’t hiding as much as he used to—except when he finds a bag or box or wants to take a catnap. It seems like he’d rather keep us company than keep his distance. When we watch a movie on TV, for instance, he’ll sit near us, almost as if he’s watching too.

  Sometimes he even follows us into the bathroom. (This morning I heard Pip say, “Taco, get out! I need privacy!”)

  When Mom or Dad drives into our garage, or Pip comes home from art class, Taco pricks up his ears and goes trotting over to the back door to say a quiet hello.

  He doesn’t like when we play Boggle though. When anyone shakes the letters, he takes off. So that’s another sound he abhors. (And “abhors,” which means “hates,” is another six-letter word with all its letters in alphabetical order.)

  Personally, I think Taco can’t really change his inner nature, which is that he is a bit of a scaredy-cat.

  I wonder if Zara can’t change her inner nature either, which is that she’s a bit of a blabbermouth.

  I once read an Aesop fable about how it’s hard to hide your inner nature. It’s called “The Cat and the Maiden,” and it goes like this:

  The gods were arguing about whether a living creature can change its nature. Jupiter, the king of the gods, said yes, but Venus, the goddess of love, said no. To prove his point, Jupiter turned a cat into a beautiful maiden. A man fell madly in love with her and proposed. At the wedding, Jupiter said to Venus, “Look how lovely she is. Who would have thought that she used to be a cat?” Venus said, “Watch this!” and tossed a squeaky mouse into her path. No sooner did the bride see it, than she pounced upon it. The groom was horrified! And Venus said to Jupiter, “See? You can’t change who you are.”

  Well, not to argue with Aesop or anything, but I don’t agree that you are who you are. Maybe in some ways. But not in all ways. I mean, I think people and cats can change a little bit, if they want to and they try.

  Like, Pip and Taco are both a lot less timid than they used to be. Right now, Pip is at Isabel’s, and Pip never used to go to other kids’ houses. As for Taco, maybe he will always seem aloof and like he’s planning his escape. But he is settling down a bit and trusting us. And I’ll say this: his ready-to-run personality makes his “cat cuddles” extra sweet. >^. .^<

  Ava, Not Aloof

  1/16

  before dinner

  Dear Diary,

  Dad and I were in the car running errands, and I asked him if we should have put up Found Cat signs.

  “Ava, we didn’t find Taco. We adopted Taco.”

  I told him that Zara had asked if I knew who Taco belonged to before us.

  Dad patted my knee. “I doubt Taco thinks he ever belonged to anyone. I bet he thinks we belong to him. We’re the ones who feed him, right?” I nodded. “Maybe he thinks he owns us!”

  We talked about how pets aren’t property, and I told him Ben’s jokes about cats versus dogs. Dad told me that in ancient Egypt, cats were revered as gods, mostly because they killed the mice and rats that were spreading disease and eating up all the grain.

  Ava, Owned by Taco God

  P.S. Maybelle is coming for a sleepover. Y-A-Y! First time in a long time!!

  1/17

  1:17

  Dear Diary,

  Maybelle brought a laser light with her. It made a red beam, and Taco chased it everywhere, even up walls. (We were careful not to flash it in his eyes.)

  Pip was in the kitchen illustrating the V rhyme she made me write:

  V is for viperfish.

  The viperfish has sharp teeth and shines its own light,

  It swims deep down by day but less deep at night.

  Pip is worried that we won’t finish in time, but after dinner, I told her to come outside with Maybelle and me, and she did. The three of us bundled up and went to look at the stars. Maybelle started talking about life in outer space and that French space cat. I said that in science we learned about “inherited, acquired, and learned” traits. For instance, if Taco hadn’t had certain private parts snipped off, he could have had kittens, and some of his kittens might have been taco-colored (inherited), but none of them would have been born with a bitten-up ear (acquired) or playing Jenga (learned).

  This morning, Taco found a diamond of sunlight and lay down on his side. Maybelle joked that it was a “rhombus” of sunlight and said he looked like “a breaded pork chop.” That made me laugh, but I have to admit that if Zara had said the exact same thing, I might have wanted to punch her face. (Not that I would have.)

  I said that when Taco sits with his paws tucked in, he looks like a golden loaf of bread.

  The twins came over (wearing orange sweatshirts), and we played Slow Down/Speed Up. Pip and Maybelle were eating cereal, and when Carmen said, “¡Más lento!” they lifted their spoons in slow motion, and when she said, “¡Más rápido!” they shoveled cereal into their mouths, spoonful after spoonful. It was funny—but I was glad Mom and Dad weren’t watching.

  Sometimes I wish I really could slow down time because I like being a kid. Especially when everyone is getting along.

  Does growing up mean growing pains?

  Actually, I think Pip likes being thirteen more than she liked being my age, eleven. She used to be moodier and more temperamental (a hard bonus word because of the “a” between “temper” and “mental”). Now she’s happier—which is better for her and for us. But she still has her moments! And she’s been stressing about finishing the fish book on time.

  Taco was sitting in the living room with his left paw stretched out in front of him. Maybelle said, “He looks like the king of the beasts.”

  I said, “Or the prince of the beasts.”

  Lucia asked, “Has he purred yet?”

  Pip said, “Yes! For me and Ava and Maybelle!”

  We told Carmen and Lucia to go up to him very slowly and brush him very gently. And sure enough, instead of bolting, Taco let them brush him. After a long, long while, he even turned on his rumble bumble rumble bumble motor and started purring and vibrating. Lucia pressed her ears against his side and he didn’t run away!

  “Más rápido,” Lucia whispered, and then, “M
ás lento.” But Taco didn’t speed up or slow down. He kept purring at his very own speed.

  Ava, Whose Cat is Purrrrrfect

  1/17

  TWO HOURS LATER

  IN DR. GROSS'S WAITING ROOM

  Dear Diary,

  I’m really worried about Taco!! After Maybelle and the twins went home, Dad and Pip went to a matinee, and I noticed that Taco started acting strange. His bathroom door was open, and he was going in and out and in and out. He was also crouching as if he had to pee but couldn’t. His little behind was all quivery, and he looked at me with his big round eyes and gave a melancholy meow as if to tell me something was wrong. It seemed like he was even trying to pee outside his litter box, which he never does.

  I went into the bathroom and saw a couple of tiny pink drops on the white bath mat. I didn’t want to get Taco in trouble, but I thought I’d better tell Mom.

  But she wasn’t home! I remembered that she’d gone out for a walk with our neighbor, Mrs. Farris. I called Mom on her cell phone, but then I heard her phone buzzing in her purse—she’d left it on the kitchen counter!

  Taco looked up at me—but not with a love-blink, more like an anxious expression. I was trying to figure out what to do—stay with him or get help—and decided to put on my coat and boots and run to the park and find Mom.

  At first I couldn’t find her anywhere. Then I saw her way ahead, so I ran and ran and caught up to her.

  Mom seemed surprised to see me. I told her about Taco, and I don’t know what I expected her to say, but I did not expect her to say, “Ava, we need to get Taco to the clinic immediately.”

  “But it’s Sunday!”

  “Let’s hurry home. I’ll call Dr. Gross, and you get the cat carrier. We have no time to lose!”

  We said good-bye to Mrs. Farris and ran back. Mom called Dr. Gross, and I got Taco into his carrier and held him on my lap as Mom drove. Mom and I both kept telling Taco things like, “Don’t be scared,” and “Dr. Gross is going to take care of you.”