I write this after a long and exhausting day.
It started when I went out to begin my work this morning and saw that Alex had left her research report on her desk. She had worked hard on that report, and I knew she would be in big trouble with her teacher if she was late in handing it in, as she has already missed many assignments. I knew this because I have overheard her mother speak to her about it almost every day, usually quite loudly.
I think Mrs. Carhart might do well to read How to Be a Better Brownie.
It’s too bad the print would be too tiny for her eyes.
(Despite the above, I have much sympathy for Mrs. Carhart. Having a child like Alex must be a great trial.)
Though this situation definitely qualified as a mess for Alex, strictly speaking it is not part of my duties to help with a problem like this. Should I try to take it to her? It might make her feel better about me being here.
After much fussing and cudgeling of my brains (I mean that quite literally—I pounded upon my head trying to talk myself out of it), I rolled the essay into a neat curl and tied it with a bit of string. The house was quiet—the young Carharts at school, Mrs. Carhart at work, Mr. Carhart locked away in his Man Cave, which turned out to be his “studio,” where he pens his wretched songs. So the only one I needed to worry about was Bubbles (Sweet Lords of the Hunt, what a name for the monster!), and I was hoping the beast was outside.
No such luck as that. When I got to the kitchen, who did I see with his face in his food bowl? Bubbles, of course. But I was a brownie with a job to do, and not about to take any nonsense from a mere cat. So I set aside the rolled-up report and braced myself. This was not Angus-just-arrived-and-all-worn-out. This was Angus-on-a-mission.
It was time to settle this for good.
The cat looked up, saw me, and crouched.
I crouched, too.
The cat sprang.
I sprang at the same instant, my mighty leap taking me far higher than his. The cat landed beneath me, and I landed on his back.
Unfortunately, I had landed backwards! I lunged up, grabbed Bubbles’s tail, and used it to swing into the air.
This time I came down right way forward. As I did, the beast yowled and reared like the horses in the old Westerns I used to watch with Sarah.
I sank my hands into his fur, dug my heels into his sides, then cried, “All right, Bubbles, it’s time to decide who’s in charge here!”
The cat bucked, yowled, twisted, and squirmed.
I held on as if clutching the secret of life. (In a way, I was, since I knew that if I fell off his back, his claws would soon be doing unspeakable things to my innards.)
The cat galloped forward, yowling as if his tail was on fire.
I couldn’t help myself. As we tore through the dining room and the living room, I swatted at his backside and shouted, “Yahooooo! Ride ’em, Brownie!”
Suddenly the cat skidded to a halt. He flung himself sideways, then onto his back.
I kept my grip, holding on like Janet clutching Tam Lin in the old tale. Though I was tiring, I dared not let go. My only hope was to hold on until Bubbles was exhausted.
The creature finally stopped, gasping for breath. That was when I played my last card. Pulling myself forward, I whispered in his ear, “Ya didn’t expect to meet your match today, did ya, ya daft fur ball?”
The cat froze. I suspect no one had ever before talked to him in his own language.
“That’s right,” I said. “I know the language of the beasts. That first night you had the best of me, but now I’ve the better of you. And what I need to tell you is this: Miss Alex is in a mess. This morning she left behind some papers that are important for her to have in school. I am ready to bring them to her, but I need help. Are you willing to help me? For the sake of your girl, will you get me to that school?”
The cat held still for a long moment, then replied, “Yes.”
“Well, then let’s be out the door and on our way. The sooner we deliver these papers, the better. Though first we have to stop so I can pick it up, of course.”
“Of course,” said the cat.
“I’m going to get down. You’d best not try anything when I do. Remember, we are now a team if we’re to help Alex.”
Bubbles made an irritated sound but said nothing more.
I slid down, ready to leap away if necessary.
Normally I don’t like to deal with cats. They’re finicky and can’t always be trusted. But as my dear Sarah used to tell me, “Angus, you can’t choose where the ball lands. You have to play it where it lies.” (She was very proud that golf was invented in Scotland.)
Happily, I didn’t have any more trouble with Bubbles. In fact, he was quite helpful. After I retrieved Alex’s work and was about to mount him again, he said, “You should wait until we’re outside. Otherwise the flap is apt to knock you onto your butt.”
I thanked him for this bit of wisdom.
As it turned out, it was a good thing I had taken the time to tame the cat, since he knew a backyard route to school, which was definitely the best way for us to get there without my being seen.
When I thanked Bubbles for this, he said, “Do you think you’re the only one who doesn’t want to be seen? I’ve no desire to be spotted with a little man riding on my back!”
I nearly pitched a fit but started to count instead.
After we passed through a small wooded lot that led to the edge of the playground, Bubbles stopped and said, “This is where you get off. I am not going to cross that wide open space carrying you as if I were some tiny horse!”
“That’s fine, and I thank you for bringing me this far.”
Despite his objection to being seen with me, the cat seemed to have taken the team idea to heart, for he said, “Do you want me to wait for you?”
“Thank you, but no,” I replied. “I’ll get a ride home with Alex. Or walk if I must. There’ll be no hurry, and now that I know your route, I can do it without being noticed.”
“Then I’ll be off. Good luck!”
The playground was indeed a wide space to cross, with almost nowhere to hide. At least there were no classes outside. Taking a deep breath, I went into full scurry mode. Usually I only use my scurrying power to cross a room, nae such a great distance as this. The trip took a huge burst of energy, and I was fair winded when I reached the far side.
As I leaned against the building, trying to catch my breath, I realized I hadn’t thought this through. How was I to get inside the place?
Well, the first thing to do was find Alex’s room. That was simple enough. I just made my way along the foundation, pressing myself tight to the concrete, until I could sense Alex nearby.
As the building was built of brick, I knew I could climb it. But I was going to need both hands. I undid the string with which I had tied up the paper and used it to bind the roll to my back. The paper was getting a bit squashed, but there was no help for that.
Now that my hands were free, I leaped to the bricks and started to climb.
Glory be to goodness, the windows were open! They were an odd kind of window, low and wide. They didn’t slide up, as I was used to, but tilted out. Happily, the opening was big enough for me to slip through. However, I couldn’t go in with the class there, as someone was almost certain to see me. So I clung to the wall, peering into the room with my eyes just above the ledge.
I quickly spotted Alex.
I had been hanging there for several minutes when the teacher clapped her hands and said, “Time for lunch! Everyone line up.”
As soon as they were out the door, I scrambled through the window, then scooted to my girl’s desk. I shinnied up a leg, climbed on top, then took the roll of papers from my back and flattened it out.
It rolled right back up, which I should have expected.
I unrolled it again, then stood on one end.
The other end rolled up, knocking against my knees.
Cursing a bit, I leaned over the edge of the desk. It had a top, bottom, and three sides but was open where the student sits. I assume this is so things can easily be put in and taken out. Only it would be a task to put anything new in Alex’s desk…it was already crammed to bursting.
Sweet Lords of the Hunt, the messes this child makes!
I dug around and found a big eraser, a quarter, a smooth stone the size of my head, and a plastic turtle. I hauled them up to the desktop, then used them to hold down the corners of Alex’s assignment.
I had just finished, and was planning to scoot over to the window and make my exit, when I heard the teacher come back in!
I did the only thing I could and went over the edge of the desk and into the mess inside. It was no easy thing to squeeze into that miniature junkyard! When I had gone as far as I thought I could, my head was still sticking out. So I burrowed deeper, wedging myself between a book and something soft and squishy that I didn’t want to think about. I stopped when the point of a pencil hit my bum.
And there I stayed. It’s possible I have been in a more uncomfortable position sometime in my life, but if so, I can’t remember it.
I had hoped the teacher would leave to pick up her class and I could escape then. No such luck. Some other teacher delivered them to the door!
As Alex’s chair scraped back, I heard her mutter, “What the…?” She bent and peered into the desk, then hissed, “Angus! What are you doing here?”
I shook my head and pressed my finger to my lips. She nodded—thank goodness the girl is quick—and took her seat. After a while she moved around, and I heard her clear her throat. I saw that she had positioned her backpack so I could climb into it.
I shuddered, remembering the mess I had seen tumble out of it before. But it couldn’t be worse than remaining where I was. I scootched backwards and slid into the pack, which is where I stayed until she carried me home at the end of the school day.
Back in her room, she laid her pack on the bed and opened the end. “Thanks for bringing that report,” she said as I crawled out. “You saved my butt!”
“You’re quite welcome,” I replied, pulling something disgusting out of my fur. “But if you don’t mind, I’ll go back to the closet now. I’ve had about all I can take for one day.”
I dragged myself up to my shoe box, where I quickly fell into a deep sleep.
I’m not sure how long I napped. I awoke about an hour ago and have been writing this ever since.