Chapter 5

Fishing for a Plan

I ran down a long, winding path through the meadow. Then I entered the dark, cool woods and raced down the path toward the lake. Alfreeda and Grandma Kit followed.

I leaped around trees, over rocks, and around huge green plants. I looked over my shoulder. Grandma Kit must’ve tripped over a root. Alfreeda was helping her up.

When I reached the edge of the woods, I looked down the long shoreline of the lake. And there he was — FRANKIE!

The runaway cat stood in the lake, staring at something in the still water. The water came up to his belly.

I lay on the sand, in tall weeds, so I wouldn’t scare him away. My nose filled with the horrible smell of dead fish. I pinched it shut and heard Alfreeda behind me, chattering. I looked over my shoulder and put my finger to my lips.

“Shhh,” I whispered. “Frankie’s here. Tiptoe. Lie down.”

Alfreeda and Grandma Kit crept over and lay in the weedy sand beside me. They both wrinkled their noses.

“Ew, it stinks,” Alfreeda said, pinching her nose with her fingers.

“Like a hot beach covered in long-dead fish,” Grandma Kit whispered.

That’s what it was, exactly. Several dead fish floated near the shore of Lake Dee-Oh-Gee. A few had washed onto the sand close to where the three of us lay.

“Where is he?” Alfreeda whispered.

I parted the weeds and pointed.

“Oh wow!” Alfreeda gasped. “It’s a wild cat! There haven’t been wild cats around here in a long time. Or is it a leopard? Maybe it escaped from the zoo! Take a picture with your phone, Mrs. Felinus. That’d be awesome for the front page of the town newspaper.”

“No, dear,” Grandma Kit whispered. “That’s not a full-blooded leopard. That’s Frankie. He’s a Bengal. Bengal cats are part leopard.”

“Really?” Alfreeda looked surprised.

Grandma Kit and I nodded.

“Wow.” Alfreeda whistled quietly. “Beautiful.”

“He certainly is,” Grandma Kit said. “His owners really love him too. We have to catch him. But how are we going to do that, without scaring him off? If he runs into the woods at the other side of the lake, we may never find him.”

My heart raced. I had to come up with a plan to help Grandma Kit, Tabby Towers, and Frankie.

I fished around in my brain for a plan. Frankie kept sticking his paw in the water.

Suddenly he slapped a little fish right out of the lake. It flew toward the beach and plopped in the sand. Frankie leaped after it. He pawed the fish and bit it once. But he didn’t eat it. He must not have been hungry. I knew that hunger had nothing to do with a cat’s instinct to hunt or fish. Eating and hunting instincts came from different parts of a cat’s brain.

Frankie tiptoed back into the lake. He stood still again, staring into the water below his chin. Then he slapped out another fish, and it landed in the sand.

“A fishing cat?” Alfreeda whispered. “This is crazy. Frankie has to be part dog.”

“No, he isn’t!” I snapped. “He’s part Asian leopard, okay? Asian leopards swim and fish in the wild. Frankie has those instincts too. All Bengal cats do.”

“I don’t believe it,” Alfreeda whispered. Her voice sounded annoyingly squeaky, thanks to her plugged nose. “Everyone knows that cats hate water.”

I frowned. I opened my mouth to say something mean, but Grandma Kit gave me “the look.” It was the one she often shot in my direction when Alfreeda was around. The look meant: Tabitha, be nice. We’re neighbors.

I shut my mouth. Still, the hair on top of my head stood on end.

How can I sneak up and grab Frankie from behind? I wondered. There wasn’t a bush or tree on the beach. He would see me coming.

I plugged my nose tighter. The stink was making it hard to think.

Then I realized something. I didn’t have to sneak up at all. “That’s it,” I whispered. “I know how we can catch Frankie.”