“Excellent work, Taylor!” Mr. Spence said as he handed back my story.
“Thanks.” I looked at the mark. It was a level four, an A! “I really enjoyed writing it.”
“It shows. And I learned so much about feral cats I didn’t know,” he said.
“You said, ‘Write what you know,’ and I know about them.”
“You certainly do,” he agreed. “But just as impressive was the imagination you put into the story. Writing from the perspective of a cat was a great idea.”
“I’m not really a talking-animal sort of guy, but I wanted to try it. Besides, Hunter is more than a cat,” I explained.
“He’s the leader of the colony, right?”
“He’s sort of the co-leader of the colony,” I said. “Although cats don’t really think like that. That would be anthropomo-lo-sizing or something like that.”
Mr. Spence smiled. “I think you’re aiming for the word anthropomorphize.”
“Yeah, that’s it!”
“That’s the wonderful thing about writing. You can give animals, or things, human qualities. Just think, if authors didn’t do that we’d have no Peter Rabbit, Charlotte’s Web, Silverwing, Watership Down or The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe.”
“Not to mention Bugs Bunny or Mickey Mouse,” Simon added.
“Or Franklin the Turtle, or the Berenstain Bears,” I said. “They were my favorites—you know, when I was a kid.”
Mr. Spence laughed. “As opposed to the senior citizen you’ve become!”
“You know what I mean.”
“I do. Besides, you got inside the character of the cat. You saw the world the way a cat who lives in a junkyard, wakes up in a cage in an apartment and is finally being released back into—”
“Excuse me,” said a voice over the pa. It was the school secretary.
“Yes,” Mr. Spence replied.
“I’m sorry to disturb you,” said the secretary. “I have a gentleman in the office who wants to speak to a student in your class. He says it’s very important. His name is Mr. Singh.”
I smiled when I heard the name Singh.
“Who would he like to speak with?” asked Mr. Spence.
“Taylor,” said the secretary.
My stomach did a flip as every eye in the class turned to me. It was my Mr. Singh! I had no idea why he would come to school and ask to see me, but it couldn’t be good.
Mr. Spence looked at me. “Is he a family member?” he asked.
“He’s my friend,” I said.
Then the recess bell rang, and Mr. Spence dismissed the class.
“It’s okay,” Simon said as he passed by. “Whatever it is, it’s okay.”
I didn’t know what to say. Mr. Singh could only be here for one reason—Hunter. He must have taken a turn for the worse, or maybe he’d been hurt by King, or those dogs had come back, or he’d been run over by a car or…There were so many things that could happen to a wild cat. If only I’d kept him in my apartment, he’d be alive and safe and—
“Come, I’ll walk you down to the office now,” Mr. Spence said.
“Sure, yeah. I’m just a little…a little…”
“Nervous?” said Mr. Spence.
I nodded my head.
“I can understand that, but I am going to come down there with you.”
Whatever the problem was, I knew Mr. Spence would help me figure it out. I just hoped I wouldn’t cry in front of him if Mr. Singh had bad news for me.
“I don’t know why he’d be here to see me,” I said. “It has to be important.”
We walked into the office, and Mr. Singh stood up and introduced himself to Mr. Spence.
“Taylor, I am most sorry to disturb you at school,” Mr. Singh said, “but I wanted to tell you immediately that—”
“Has something happened to Hunter?” I interrupted.
“Hunter is fine,” he said. “I saw him this morning. But really, he is not fine. None of the cats are fine.”
I gasped. “What do you mean?”
“The junkyard…it has been sold.”
“Sold?”
“Yes. They are going to turn it into condominiums.” He paused. “And they started this morning.”