The girl wailed!

She had been so happy

to have Patches back.

And here her little cat was

. . . running

. . . running

     . . . running away!

“Patches!”

the girl cried.

“Stop!”

Patches heard,

but though she loved her girl,

she paid no attention.

At this moment,

she loved no one more

than Moonshadow

and Little Thomas

and Gustina,

because that’s the way it is

with mothers,

even brand-new ones.

“COME BACK!”

the girl called,

running

after.

Patches ran

even faster.

The squirrels,

the birds,

and the rabbits

scattered.

The mouseling,

too.

Now that a human

was involved,

they needed

to be out of the way.

Even the bat

woke

in the comfy attic

where

he

was

hanging

by

his

toes,

listened to the commotion

for a moment,

then

sighed

and

drifted

back

to sleep.

Daytime folks

made so much noise!

As Patches ran,

she kept watch

for the flapping

red, white, and blue flag

in front of the post office

across from Gus’s yard.

She was a cat

of the world

now

and knew

about post offices and

f

l

a

p

p

i

n

g

flags.

When she spied it

at last,

she knew

her babies

were near,

all snug and safe

with her friend Gus.

The girl caught up just in time

to see her cat dash

across the street

and duck under

the corner of the fence

right

into Gus’s yard.

“Patches! STOP!”

the girl cried.

And then,

when she saw her little cat

heading

straight

for

Gus

and his house,

she added,

“Don’t you know?

That’s the meanest dog in town!”

But Patches didn’t stop.

She didn’t even slow down.

She just ran right up

to the enormous gray dog

who lay,

half-in,

half-out

of his doghouse,

his chin resting

on his great gray paws.

The girl covered her eyes.

She couldn’t bear

to see

what was going to happen

next.

(If you’re scared,

you might want

to cover your eyes

too,

though it is rather difficult

to read

that way.)