Sassafras watched me check on my African violet babies at the dining room table from the safety of my lap. I carefully brushed the soil away from the leaf stem I’d planted in the dirt and lifted the leaf out. Yes! I could see tiny little nubs starting to grow at the bottom of the stems.
I dangled the leaf in front of Sassafras’ face. “Look! Baby roots! My friends are going to freak out when I show them that I made a leaf grow into a new plant.”
Sassafras blinked in agreement, then whipped his head to the side, and pointed his ears toward the kitchen.
“Meow?”
“Do you hear something, Sass?” I strained my ears. I didn’t hear anything.
Sassafras leaped out of my lap and ran for the back door.
I followed, still straining to hear any noise.
Sassafras meowed impatiently and stretched his front legs up to the doorknob.
“Maybe someday you’ll be able to open doors. But for now, how about I help you?” I grinned at him and twisted the doorknob.
There on the doorstep was a bundle of catnip. With a teeny tiny note attached. I picked it up and took a look:
A big smile spread across my face. “I believe these are for you, Sassafras,” I said, bending down.
Sassafras took a step toward the catnip. “Meow?” He looked up at me.
“Yes, go ahead! It’s yours!” I waved him on.
He dissolved into a writhing, purring, drooling mess of happiness.
I looked again at the miniature note and saw a tiny paw print. That was sweet of the caterflies—I couldn’t believe they had so much catnip to spare. Unless . . . unless . . .
“Sassafras!” I shouted.
He looked up at me. Some drool and crumpled catnip leaves were smeared down one side of his face.
“The caterpillars! They must have made their chrysalises! That’s why they don’t need the catnip anymore. We’ve got to see them!”
“Meooow!” Sassafras cried and pawed at the pile of wet catnip.
“OK, two more minutes. Then I really want to go see.” I looked at the note one more time and realized I should add it to my science journal before it got lost. It was just too cute.
I went to my room and glued it next to my entry on caterflies, across from that silly photo of Sassafras with the tiny caterpillar on his nose. I leaned in close to the photo and could barely make out the faint purrs of the caterpillar. I couldn’t wait to see the chrysalises they’d made! I leaped up and rushed past my desk. The whoosh of air flipped my journal open to a new page.
A blank page, just waiting for whatever creature we’d help next . . .
