6

Max to the Rescue

The two kittens were in various states of wet and wetter and trying not to drown as Max scrambled down the concrete riverbank to the edge of the water.

Scout froze—eyes fixed on Max—ears up, on alert. Stu, the gray, was too busy splashing and hissing and trying not to drown to care.

“It’s okay. I’m not gonna hurt you. I’m not a bad guy.” Max balanced first on a rock, then on a length of fallen tree trunk, close enough to reach Stu. “I’m a good guy. I’m gonna rescue you. That’s what the good guys do. Just hold on.” Max reached for Stu’s wet gray kitten pelt and lunged.

There was screeching. There was clawing. There was splashing. There was gouging . . . but in the end, Max emerged from the river with Stu in his arms.

Scout backed away from the commotion in a panic . . . scrabbling paws backward across the muddy concrete . . . then diving back into the bushes.

Max carefully wrapped the sopping gray creature in the sweatshirt tied around his waist. “You’re just a little guy, aren’t you?”

The trembling gray pile of wet fur didn’t answer. It shook in Max’s arms—but remained otherwise spookily still. The poor little guy was terrified.

“You’re shivering. I can feel your ribs. You need someone to take care of you.” Max eyed the tiny spotty cat, peeking out beneath a bush. “Both of you.”

Max thought about it, then slowly lowered the gray kitten to the rocky, marshy ground beneath them. “Okay, Stu . . .”

The kitten squirmed free and streaked into the bushes, diving into the shadows behind its spotty friend.

Max carefully squatted down to look at them. “You know, you two can come with me if you want. My house isn’t very far from here.”

The kittens peeped out at him from the shadows, wary.

Max thought for a moment, then started untying his shoelaces, wiggling and flopping them as he did.

The kittens stared. Scout bravely crept forward on tiny paws. Stu cautiously backed away into the deeper shadows beneath the bush. Neither one moved their eyes from the shoelaces as he slowly stood up.

“Okay, how about I just walk over here, and if you want to come with me, no problem.” As Max spoke, he gave his untied shoelaces an enticing kick.

The kittens were hypnotized.

Max smiled to himself. He had spent enough time with Obi, the cat next door, to pick up a thing or two about cats. Cats can’t resist a dangling, squiggling string.

Max picked up his backpack and began to walk back to the fence, as slowly as a person could go and still technically be moving. His untied shoelaces flapped and dragged as he went.

Stu and Scout took careful steps forward on wet, wobbly legs, keeping the laces in sight.

By the time Max stepped through the fence, the kittens had followed him through, pouncing and clawing at his shoes with every few steps. The kittens had forgotten to be scared. They were too busy playing catch-the-dirty-shoelace.

And Max? He was too excited from the rescue to think about what he would do with them when he got home.

Max had long dreamed of having a kitten. He asked his parents at least twice a year, but the answer was always no. His parents didn’t hate cats, but whenever he asked, Mom and Dad would look at the Protos, the robotics lab, and all the sensitive equipment in the house, shaking their heads. “Sorry, Max, it’s just not a good idea.”

Min, on the other hand, definitely didn’t like cats. Her response was much more direct. “This is a robot house, Max. You want cats, go join a veterinarian family.”

Ouch.

In the Wengrod house, Team Robot beat Team Cat, every time. But this time had to be different! Right? These guys were adorable!

The kittens kept pouncing, and Max kept walking, and all three had so much fun that they didn’t notice when a certain vehicle drove up behind them. As it whooshed past and hummed away, Max looked up just in time to see CAR driving by, his sister’s frowning face in the window. His heart dropped.

Busted.