“A-ha!” exclaimed the man. There was pure delight in his voice. “A great find!”
He pulled a silver pocket watch from the drawer, swung it carefully on its chain for a moment. Its shiny surface glistened and sparkled as it reflected sunlight from the window. “This looks valuable.”
Stick Cat watched the masked man quickly untie the leather satchel from his belt. He opened it and dropped the pocket watch inside.
Goose’s grandfather had given the pocket watch to him on his tenth birthday. Goose had told the story as he swung the watch in the air and Stick Cat batted at it when he was a kitten.
And now it was gone.
“Do you still think this man—” Stick Cat began to ask Edith. But he was interrupted by her.
“His name is Tuna Todd,” she said. “Remember?”
Stick Cat paused for three seconds, decided debating the man’s name was not worth the time or effort, and asked Edith the whole question this time.
“Do you still think Tuna Todd is a hero?”
“Sure,” Edith answered quickly. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“He just stole Goose’s watch!”
“That was a watch?”
“Yes,” sighed Stick Cat. “Goose’s grandpa gave it to him.”
This took Edith aback. You could tell it bothered her. She cast her eyes down to the floor and shook her head slightly. She looked upset.
But only for six seconds.
After that short period of time, she lifted her head. Her expression had changed. She was smiling now.
“It makes perfect sense,” she said. “Of course he took it.”
“What?!” Stick Cat asked in complete disbelief. “How does that make sense?!”
“Think about it, Stick Cat,” Edith explained. “Tuna Todd makes dozens—maybe hundreds—of delicious fishy deliveries every day. He brings joy to cats all over the world. Now, to do that he needs to stay on a pretty tight schedule, don’t you think? A watch is vital for Tuna Todd to do his job.”
Stick Cat said nothing. There was a reason for that: he could think of nothing to say.
After rummaging through the drawer a little more, the man walked quietly to the kitchen. He seemed to have already forgotten about the cats. He concentrated fully on his task.
Stick Cat followed him. Edith left their spot behind the couch as well. But she took a little detour before joining Stick Cat at the kitchen doorway. When she did eventually stand next to him, Edith licked her whiskers and smacked her lips a couple of times.
Stick Cat couldn’t resist. He had to ask.
“How was the tuna?”
“Excuse me?” Edith answered. She did her best to look surprised.
“The tuna?” repeated Stick Cat. “You stopped to eat the tuna on the way over here, didn’t you?”
“Excuse me?”
Stick Cat pointed toward the air-conditioning vent cover on the floor. There was clearly no longer any tuna on it. “The tuna?”
Edith glanced back over her shoulder, realized there was likely no other explanation, and decided to admit what she had done. But she did so in typical Edith fashion.
“Stick Cat,” she began to explain. “That tuna was absolutely delicious! I’m so happy that Tuna Todd leaves it for deserving, well-behaved, good-looking cats all over the world.”
Stick Cat smiled, nodded, and commented, “You certainly are all of those things.”
“You’re right about that,” Edith said. She then asked, “What’s Tuna Todd up to now?”
Stick Cat turned his attention back toward the masked man in the kitchen. He was opening and closing drawers. He didn’t seem very satisfied with his findings. He kept whispering things like, “Nothing here” and “Zero” and “Where’s the good stuff?”
Finally he reached for the cookie jar on the counter next to the sink. The jar, like many other things in Stick Cat’s home, had a picture of a goose on it.
Stick Cat knew exactly what was in that jar—and he knew the masked man would take it.
For years, Goose had put paper money into that jar every week. Goose liked to call it his “Paris, France jar.”
You see, Paris was the one place in the whole world where Goose wanted to travel the most. Sometimes, he would talk to Stick Cat about it. Goose said he would eat out at fancy restaurants, climb the Eiffel Tower, and eat grapes right off the vine for breakfast.
Stick Cat could tell it was the one thing that Goose always wanted to do the most.
But Goose hadn’t made that trip yet for one simple reason. He wanted to take someone with him—someone really special who he hadn’t met yet.
So, on Sunday night every week, Goose got his wallet, pulled some money out, and stuffed it into the jar on the counter. If Stick Cat was close, Goose would look at him and say, “One day, little buddy, I’ll find the right girl and the three of us will all go to Paris.”
Then he’d scratch Stick Cat under the chin and wash the dishes.
For Stick Cat, it was kind of nice and sad all rolled up together. It was fun to listen to Goose talk about his dream, but it was sad he hadn’t met someone to share it with.
And now Goose would never get the opportunity. Because the masked man reached into the cookie jar and said one thing with pure delight.
“Jackpot!”
He took all the money out, stuffed it into his satchel, and smiled the meanest, nastiest smile Stick Cat had ever seen.
Stick Cat was angry.
Really angry.
Stick Cat took two steps into the kitchen and snarled at the man.
The burglar turned to him, but he clearly misinterpreted Stick Cat’s intention.
“Well, look who’s back,” the man said. He looked past Stick Cat and Edith into the living room and saw that the tuna was no longer on the vent cover. “Came back for a little more tuna, right?”
As soon as he said this, Edith stepped into the kitchen and joined Stick Cat.
“All right,” the man said. He took the plastic bag from his pocket and placed two more big pinches of tuna on the floor. “Here you go, kitties. After that cookie jar find, I’m in a very, very good mood! Let’s see if I have any luck in the bedroom, shall we?”
The masked man stepped through the doorway—Stick Cat actually needed to dodge out of his way to avoid being stomped on. The man headed straight to Goose and Stick Cat’s bedroom.
Stick Cat stood perfectly still.
He had never felt this mad before. He had been scared before. He’d crossed the alley twice, after all. One time, he and Edith had used an apron on a clothesline twenty-three floors above street level. Another time they used a black cable and a napkin as a sort of zip line to get across.
Yes, he had been plenty frightened both those times—scared out of his wits actually.
But this was different.
He wasn’t frightened.
He was angry.
He made a decision right then and right there.
He would try to stop this thief.
He didn’t know how.
And he didn’t think he stood a chance.
But that didn’t mean Stick Cat wouldn’t try.
And he knew he’d need help.
“Edith,” he said. “I’m going to try—”
But Edith was no longer there.