Chapter 5

Boots Become Gloves

Bootsie did not calm down.

She kept hanging on Child’s screen door and hissing at him. And Child kept hissing right back at Bootsie.

I couldn’t believe my sweet, gentle Bootsie was acting so mean. I didn’t even know she had meanness in her!

One thing I did know: I wasn’t supposed to touch an angry cat. Ever. I could get bitten or clawed very badly.

But I wasn’t thinking straight at that moment. I grabbed Bootsie and pulled her off Child’s condo door. I rushed her to the big window and faced the farmyard.

“Shhh,” I whispered. “It’s okay. It’s okay. Just look outside at the nice chickens.”

Bootsie shook all over. Her heart pounded.

I was so glad that her claws hadn’t cut me when I’d grabbed her. “Of course you’d never hurt me, would you?” I whispered in her ear and rocked her. “You are my gentle girl, aren’t you? You forgot that for a minute, right?”

I kept rocking her. Soon she stopped shaking. Her heartbeat slowed.

Now she lay upside-down again in my arms, cradled like a doll. But she didn’t purr. She looked across the room at the row of kitty condos. Her tail hung down and started to wag.

Uh-oh, I thought. I grew worried again. Here’s why: In the dog world, wagging tails mean happiness or excitement. In the cat world, a low-hanging, wagging tail means the cat is upset.

“It’s okay,” I whispered, rocking her more. “Everything is going to be fine. You’ll make friends here. Soon you’ll really love it.”

The moment I said that, Bootsie looked straight at me. Her front leg swung back then swung forward, full force. Her paw hit me, right across my face!

My glasses flew across the room, hit the wall, and landed on the floor.

“Bootsie!” I cried, dropping her onto Grandpa Tom’s rocking chair.

Bootsie had never raised a paw at anyone in her life! Certainly not me!

I picked up my glasses and put them back on. One side sat higher than the other.

“Bootsie!” I cried again. “What’s wrong with you? You bent my glasses! My new glasses. They cost a lot of money! How could you hit me? That was a very bad thing to do.”

Bootsie looked away. She licked her front paw, the one that had struck me.

Suddenly her paws didn’t look like boots anymore. They looked like boxing gloves. And Bootsie sure could box!

My nose hurt. For the second time that morning, I felt like crying.

Then I remembered something I’d read about cats: If they can’t fight a cat they’re angry at, they’ll fight the closest living thing. It’s called sideways anger. Bootsie had boxed sideways — at me.

I sighed. “I understand, Bootsie. I really do,” I said. “But you have to calm down and be nice. Then you and I can be together for the whole summer. Okay?”

I pet her head, and she purred.

“Good,” I said, picking her up. “Come on. Let’s go to the kitchen. I’ll give you some raw eggs, straight from the chickens. And cream! Straight from Cheesecake the cow! Would you like that? Huh? I bet those tasty treats will make you totally love it here.”

I carried Bootsie into the kitchen. Pam and Grandma Kit sat at the table, sipping tea. They looked at us and smiled.

“So, how does Bootsie like her new condo and the other cats?” Grandma Kit asked.

“Um…,” I said, chewing my lip. I really didn’t want to lie to Grandma Kit. I couldn’t say everything was fine when my nose still hurt. My feelings still hurt too.

But I couldn’t tell the truth either. If I did, Pam would take Bootsie straight back to the city. I couldn’t let that happen.

Just then, Bootsie’s body stiffened in my arms. She looked over my shoulder, in the direction of Scruffy’s bed.

Oh no, I thought. I turned around slowly.

Scruffy was awake. And he was staring right at Bootsie.

She was staring at him too.

Their tails hung low and began to wag. Their backs bowed. Their fur stood on end.

Bootsie hissed and spit at Scruffy.

Scruffy hissed and spit at Bootsie.

Then my gentle, sweet cat sprang out of my arms and shot straight at Scruffy.

“Bootsie, NO!” I cried.