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Tadwallader is a Siamese cat.  Those of you who have Siamese know they have huge egos and also a lot to say.  Tad is willing to listen and learn, even from birds (robins, chickens, pelicans, ravens and even beetlebugs) about how to become the best cat he can be.  He employs these lessons to save his person, the elderly Mrs. Bontwissel, from a fire.

This book is the first of a four part series: 
Tad and Tako, the Eight-legged Wonder- Tad befriends an octopus and together they save the local mall from going broke.
 Tad Goes For a Ride � Tad discovers shenanigans at the Olympic equestrian trials and saves the show.
Tad is Home for Christmas � Tad stays with Mr. Kreger for Christmas with all his animals.  Chaos ensues.

Strangely, all of these adventures are based on real people, animals, and events.  And there might be a few life lessons tucked in as well.

This is a simultaneous submission.  I am hoping it meets with someone�s interest!

Sincerely,

Glenna A. McLean, M.S.Ed.
[email protected]
149 Nichols St.
Wellsboro PA 16901
(570)787-0006




















TADWALLADER, 
           	        THE
   	INCREDIBLE,
			   	MAGNIFICENT,	
			    	HIGH FLYING,
			    	FIRE TRUCK RIDING,
			    	PIZZA LOVING, *
			    	CAT

*WITH ANCHOVIES

					Written by Glenna A. McLean, M.S.Ed.
















CHAPTER ONE 
            INTRODUCING THE INCREDIBLE�MAGNIFICENT �ME!

"Once upon a time, there was a cat who wanted to be a bird."  

Now is that a stupid way to start a newspaper story or what? Especially a story about me!  But the Town Crier started their article about me exactly like that.  (The Weekly Blatt paper started its article about me with, "It's a bird! It's a plane!! It's a �cat??")

Ferdie is my good friend. He is the red-headed kid whose father owns the Town Crier, the best newspaper in town. Ferdie wrote that sentence as part of a newspaper article.  all about ME! Tadwallader! Tadwallader the Magnificent!  Tadwallader the Incredible!  I know Ferdie is only ten years old, ut he should have known better. I was so embarrassed! As if I would ever want to be a bird. Not even if you gave me my own, personal pizza with double anchovies. And I really love pizza. 

Of course, on the other paw, I did look very good in the photograph Ferdie had taken of me.  There I was, leading the parade while sitting in the bucket � excuse me, the cherry picker - on the top of the fire truck.  You can see my medal and everything.  I looked good, really good, even though I still had some burned patches on my fur, my ears were a little singed and a couple of important whiskers were missing.    

I am a cat.  A CAT!  An incredible cat!  A magnificent cat!  An incredibly magnificent cat!  A cat with fur as white and thick as the richest whipped cream. Even better (and because I need to investigate absolutely everything) I wear a mysterious black mask at all times.  The mask has to be black because black is the color of mystery, of sophistication, of intelligence.  In other words, ME!  Besides, the mask really sets off my sparkling sapphire blue eyes that notice everything.  I wear long, ebony black socks and, since I like to be in fashion, my (naturally) midnight black tail matches my socks.  All of this splendor is accented by the longest, finest, most sensitive set of elegant white whiskers it will ever be your privilege to observe.

By now, I am sure you see my point.  Why on earth would I, or any other self-respecting cat, especially one as magnificent as I am, ever want to be a bird?  I don't want to be a bird!  I like birds.  I love birds. But not to become one. Or eat one. Ewww � imagine eating all those feathers. Yuck! 

Birds can fly. That is what I find so fascinating about them. It is flying I want.  I love the idea of being able to fly!  It's so mysterious.  I mean, how do they do it?  Birds and beetlebugs and airplanes? The space shuttle!  How do all those things stay up in the air?

Maybe it all started while I was growing up in the Royal Palm Firehouse. On the very first day my eyes opened, I saw one of the firemen high up in the air in one of those bucket things (I think they are called �cherry pickers�) at the top of the fire ladder.  Ever since that day, I have loved heights.  And no animal gets higher in the air than a bird.  I want to be able to go high in the air like a bird.

But I live in Florida where the ground is purr-fectly flat.  Flat. Flat. Flat! So all I can do is watch the things that can fly and float and soar.  The best I can do is leap from kitchen counter to the top of the refrigerator or from tree branch to tree top.  The closest I can ever get to the clouds is from the top of my palm tree - and that's only fifteen feet or so.  Even then, that's just leaping high then dropping down.  I want to fly, to float and to soar, just like the birds and beetlebugs and butterflies and the space shuttle!

The date palm in my backyard is my favorite place to observe things that fly.  I love to sit at the very tippy top and observe the birds and butterflies and helicopters and airplanes flying overhead.  If I look hard to the east, I can also see the ocean and the pelicans that swoop around looking for their lunches.  Best of all, once in a while, I actually see the space shuttle as it soars along the edge of the ocean, then roars up! up! and away! into outer space!  Now that's serious flying! And I want to be able to do that.

So that's why I spent my spare time up the tree: observing planes and birds and beetlebugs to learn what tricks I can and then maybe use those moves to get airborne myself. At least, that was the plan.  But then, something happened. Something so crazy and scary and wonderful that I still don't believe it.  And I was the one who was training for it without realizing it.  See, all I did was save poor Mrs. Bontwissel when she was in trouble and PHOOM! everyone starts saying I wanted to be a bird!

Okay, yes, maybe I did save Mrs. Bontwissel's life (and almost got killed myself.) That didn't mean I wanted to be a bird. At least, not exactly.  Ignore what those newspapers said about me.

So, what did I learn from my adventure?  First, don't trust the newspapers to get the story totally correct, especially if Ferdie, that red-headed kid, writes it.  Here's what really happened.


				CHAPTER TWO
         A TREE WITH A VIEW

My poor Mrs. Bontwissel, bless her lovable little heart, had it wrong right from the beginning.  I had been spending a pleasant afternoon spiraling up and down the date palm tree in my back yard.  After ten or fifteen times up and around the tree trunk, I got a little dizzy.  This isn't unusual.  Wouldn't you get dizzy if you ran up and down and around a tree trunk, especially one fifteen feet tall?   So, since I know enough not to race and climb while I'm dizzy, I decided to chill out up at the top of the tree.

I love sitting on the top of the date palm.  It's quiet and cool up there with plenty of palm fronds to make me a comfy little cushion.  I can sit there for hours.  It's amazing what I can see from there.  I especially love watching the winter robins skittering around the yard.  I always wave to them while they are here for their visits.  They stay for only a few short weeks to get away from the cold and snow up North. 

Across the street, I can see over the fence into fat old Mr. Kreger�s yard.  He owns the pet store in town.  He must love his work because he's always bringing the animals home with him.  Different animals on different days. He says he does it to give them a vacation from the pet shop, but I think he brings them home because he just likes having them around all the time. You ought to see the houseful of animals he brings home at Christmas time.  I�ll tell you all about it someday.

Mr. Kreger is so lucky because he gets to eat pizza at least two or three times a week. A driver brings the pizzas right to his house in a truck.  When I get a quick whiff of that heavenly perfume of oregano and cheese and tomato sauce coming from across the street, I can�t help myself.  I just have to go over there.

Mr. Kreger always gets his pizzas from Tony�s Smokin� Hot Pizza Company on Fridays because Ferdie, the red-headed newspaper article writing boy, is also the newspaper delivery boy.  Luckily for me, Ferdie is also Mr. Kreger�s nephew. So every Friday he delivers his last paper to Mr. Kreger then he stays for dinner. Smokin� hot, rich, 
tomato-y, cheesy pizza.  
	
I have learned that if I look pathetic enough and pretend to be sad and starving, Ferdie will feed me the pieces of crust with anchovies on them.  He doesn�t like anchovies, those salty little pieces of fish.  Mr. Kreger and I love anchovies! So Ferdie gives me his.  He is a wonderful boy!

(You know, there are some days when I don�t know which I love most: Mrs. Bontwissel, pizza with anchovies, or flying.  Ferdie and Mr. Kreger are pretty nice, too.)

Anyway, Mr. Kreger built this huge wooden fence around his yard to protect the chickens he keeps back there.  Yes, he has chickens, too. I guess he just loves being surrounded by animals.  

I can see his chickens easily from the top of my date palm tree.  They are big, copper colored ones that wear little red hats and lay shiny white eggs.  The chickens spend their days chatting with each other and eating beetlebugs.  They are constantly being guarded by a very large rooster who, just by staring, manages to terrify any curious dog (especially an extremely rude cocker spaniel I could mention) who tries to poke his nose through the fence.  I love watching those chickens and sometimes, comfortably perched in my palm tree, I do watch them - for hours.
 
When I get bored with the chickens, I can just turn around and look in the other direction, toward the ocean.  If I squint and look very, very carefully, I can see the far-off pelicans soaring, swooping then diving into the water for fish.

One of the best parts about my palm tree hideout is that, from the top of it, I can see into practically any room in my house.  That way I can also keep an eye on Mrs. Bontwissel.  She says it�s her job in life to look after any animals who pass her way.  But she needs someone to look after her, as well. And that�s my job in life. 

I guess I should mention the other great thing about the date palm tree.  The dates!  They aren�t the big soft, sweet ones you buy in the grocery store.  These are little hard red berries that grow from long strings at the top of the tree.  I like to bat them off and see who I can drop them on down below.  I even manage to drop a few on that totally rude cocker spaniel I told you about.  He belongs to Mrs. Bontwissel�s sister.  I�m not sure which of them I dislike more � the dog or the sister.


				      CHAPTER 3
              THE YUCKY SISTER AND HER YUCKIER DOG

Mrs. Bontwissel always says she loves her sister and how much she likes having her sister come to visit.  I don�t know.  It seems to me that every time the sister comes over, Mrs. Bontwissel finds things missing.  Once it was a big old chair out in the garage that she said was too valuable for Mrs. B. to take care of.  Another time it was all the Christmas wrapping paper; and then some jewelry! If you can figure out the logic behind any of these things, please let me know.  I think she just took stuff to drive her sister batty.  Or I suppose she could have sold it for money. If she did, she never gave any to Mrs. B. In fact she was always asking Mrs. B for money. I know it made me nuts!  

Luckily, her sister doesn�t look anything like Mrs. Bontwissel.  The sister has this yucky reddish-yellowish, bubble-gummish hair that turns under on the ends. She also has a face that looks like it was smacked with a medium sized tuna. 

Mrs. Bontwissel is short, chubby, grey-haired and wrinkly in that sort of grandmotherly way that makes everyone like her right away.  It�s the kind of face that even animals trust right away. She tries to keep her hair in a neat bun but there are always bits and pieces of it sticking out all over so that she always looks like a bird�s nest is falling apart on her head.

The two sisters also have totally different personalities.  Mrs. Bontwissel is wonderful.  She is kind and gentle and knows all the best places to scratch on my ears and tummy.  There�s this one place on my back that I can never reach and Mrs. Bontwissel always knows where it is.  Sometimes she�ll rub my back and my tummy and my ears and cheeks for ten or fifteen minutes at a time.  At least I think she does, usually I fall asleep while she�s scratching me.  She is very soothing.

At least once a day she�ll call for me. �Tadwallader?  Where�s my fluffy kitty?  Kitty, kitty, kitty, wiss, wiss, wiss! Where�s my little baby munchie-kins?�  Okay, it�s a little embarrassing but it means that she has a treat for me.  Sometimes I get a piece of chicken or a bowl of milk warmed in the micro oven for exactly thirty seconds. Best of all, I get pieces of anchovy off the pizzas she orders. We don�t have anchovy pizza very often, but when we do, I eat every bit I can get. When Mrs. B isn�t looking I hide the pieces I can�t eat behind the curtains or sometimes under the sofa cushions for later snacking.  I really love pizza with anchovies!  And I really love Mrs. Bontwissel - even more than I love anchovy pizza.  She is such a wonderful lady!

How she ended up with that sister of hers is a real mystery. First of all the sister smokes!  Sheesh! Cigarette smoke is not good for my luxuriant fur or any other part of me.  How would you like to have to lick your fur when it tastes like an ash tray?  You can�t imagine how disgusting my mouth and breath are after one of her visits. Besides, the smoke makes it hard for me to breathe because my nose just sort of closes down when she lights up. I just stay completely out of the house when she is there.

Unfortunately, I can�t always stay away from that stupid cocker spaniel she brings with her.  What a doofus!  All that dumb dog does is try to chase me and bark! Bark! BARK!
Of course, I can just scoot up to the top of my date palm tree and drop dates on his head. And there�s nothing he can do about it except run in circles around the tree and bark! Bark! BARK!  What a cheese brain!  Wasn�t he surprised when an extra large date bonked him right onto the tip of his nose?  He went back into the house after that.

Good.


				CHAPTER 5
OH THE NOISE NOISE NOISE NOISE NOISE!

So there I was, relaxing to the max up in the palm tree, admiring the view and, of course, keeping an eye on Mrs. Bontwissel and her sister back in the house.  It wasn�t hard to locate them because I just followed the trail of smoke.  The sister would be located right in the middle of the thickest, nastiest cloud of the stuff, which meant that the house would stink for days after she left. Mostly I was hoping that maybe a space shuttle would lift off up from Cape Canaveral and would fly out over where I was.  At
least maybe there would be a traffic helicopter or even Pilot Rick on his way in his little helicopter to patrol the beaches.  Sometimes, just to keep my skills sharp, I would drop the occasional date on a bug or weed below.

After an hour or so, the sister called to her obnoxious dog and the two of them waddled to their car and left in another cloud of smoke.  Then Mrs. Bontwissel came out with my plate filled with my canned (good but really boring) cat food and started calling me.  She was serving me a little early today.  Usually she waits under I come in a little later in the afternoon.  When I go into the house, I like to run my cold, wet nose around her ankle to let her know I am there and ready to be served.  That always makes her squeak and laugh when I do that.  She laughs and says, �Why, my little Taddy Waddy must want he din-dins.�  Yes, I know, I know.  It�s a little sickening and I�m always glad that none of my friends can hear her. And yes, she�s a little strange but she is the most wonderful person I know.  She takes really good care of me and I try to take really good care of her.

Now, I like my meals, but I don�t feel I should break any land speed records getting to my plate.  I mean, please!  Have some dignity! But Mrs. Bontwissel seems to feel that I should be face down in my chow before the plate has hit the floor.  When I didn�t come in the first two seconds she called me, her voice become a little anxious.  �Taddy?  Where are you Taddy Waddy?  Don�t hide on Mommy.  Here, kitty, kitty.  Come on, Mommy�s precious little angel.�

Excuse me!  My name is Tadwallader, of the Royal Palm Fire Department Tadwalladers.  It certainly isn�t, �Kitty kitty,� much less, �Mommy�s precious little angel.�  Yuck.  

When a date accidentally dropped onto her head (it was so an accident!), she looked up and saw me.  Then things really got icky. �Taddy, sweetums, you naughty little boy! You come right down here and eat this good supper right up!  Come on, little mousekin.  There�s my sweetie bug!�

Of, course, I didn�t exactly leap to my feet and race down the tree, that would only encourage her.  Besides I really was a little dizzy from being chased in circles by that dumb dog.  I was hungry, but not hungry enough to risk falling and breaking my neck, so I sat back down on my most comfortable palm frond. But when I did, that really set Mrs. Bontwissel off. She immediately began this screeching.  �Oh, help!  My baby kitten is caught in a tree!  Kitty-kins can�t get down!  He�s afraid to come down!  Someone, please, help him!�

Now just think about it.  Have you ever seen a cat�s skeleton in a tree or on the roof of a house?  Of course not.  We know how to get down.  We also know how to have fun with humans.  �Help! Help! My little muffin-bug will be killed!�

Okay, this was getting out of hand.  I was seriously upsetting Mrs. Bontwissel and she was seriously embarrassing me.  She was yelling things like �Muffin-buglet!� and �Mousie-kins� out where everyone could hear her. People would think I wasn�t smart enough to climb down a simple old palm tree with plenty of toe-holds. 

Naturally, with all that racket, practically everyone on the whole block came out to see what was going on. And, of course, one of the first ones on the scene was Rusty, the nasty ol� cat from next door.  This is a cat who would laugh at a baby kitten.  His favorite game in life was to sneak up on people, or dogs, or birds when they weren�t looking and jump on them.  As he pounces, he screams like someone ripping a tin roof in half.  He seems to get a lot of pleasure watching his victims freaking out.  He�s weird.  And there he was right at the bottom of my tree, staring up at me. �Come on, sweetie crumb cakes.  Don�t be afraid, little mousie-wousie-lousie.  Big, brave Rusty is here to save you.� What a jerk!

And then as if things weren�t bad enough, our neighbor, Mr. Kreger wearing just his pants, suspenders and a ratty undershirt, came running out, still holding a bag of Octopus Kibble.  He was surrounded by some of the animals he had brought home from his pet shop for the weekend. The two dogs were a Great Dane puppy and a full grown toy poodle.  (Fun fact: both of them were the same size.) He had some other animal sitting on his shoulder. I couldn�t figure out what it was because it was wearing a mask, one sort of like mine. While neither of the dogs was barking, all four of the watchers appeared very concerned.  To make everything just perfect, the pizza guy, making his weekly Friday pizza delivery to Mr. Kreger pulled up.  He got out of his pizza car and started to hand the pizza to Mr. Kreger, but instead of taking it, Mr. Kreger grabbed the guy�s cell phone and began punching numbers into it. 

I wondered if there were anchovies on that pizza.  


				CHAPTER 5
        I MEET A FIREMAN WITH WONDERFUL BREATH.

�Hello?  Royal Palm Fire Department?  This is Mr. Kreger and this is not an emergency.  We do need some help here though.  Mrs. Bontwissel�s cat is stuck up in a date palm and is afraid to come down.  I�m afraid she might hurt herself trying to rescue the cat.�

Oh, brother.   Just what I needed.  This was getting really annoying so I decided to ignore everyone. I concentrated on something more important, like bonking Rusty on the head with dates.  I never saw the fire truck when it arrived.  I guess they didn�t have the siren on. The next thing I knew was just when I had lined up a perfect shot to bonk Rusty, a fireman, wearing an electric yellow raincoat, grabbed my butt.  I never saw him coming.   I spun around to see who had grabbed, ready to claw them if necessary.  We stared at each other, face to face, and I withdrew my claws.  He might be rude, grabbing my butt like that, but he was a fireman and that made him a hero.  No claws allowed.  It took me a few more seconds to realize WHOA! This guy was fifteen feet above the ground.  

He started to pull me off the palm frond.  Well, fireman or not, I wasn�t going anywhere with a complete stranger, even one who had figured out how to climb fifteen feet up to find me.  I decided to race down the tree trunk by myself and gathered myself for the launch.  But � uh oh- that dizziness hit me again. I sat back down on a half inch piece of bark that was sticking out and waited for my head to clear.  It also gave me a chance to check up on what was going on down below.

The first thing I realized was that the fireman wasn�t floating in the air as I had thought. He was standing in the cherry picker attached to the ladder that reached from the little red fire truck all the way up to where I was.  WOW! I�ll bet you could see the entire world from one of those things!  Oh, sure, I had seen them in the fire station where I had been born, but I had never seen one at work.  Woweewow!! I have to get one of these!

Suddenly, I felt those huge hands grab me firmly around my middle.  The firemen had lowered the bucket so that I could be reached.  My rescuer just tucked me right under his chin and held me tightly.  Slowly, the bucket thingy lowered us to the ground.  All the time we were moving the fireman kept saying, �Okay, fella.  Hang on tight.  I�m Fireman LeShawn.  I love my own cats so I know what to do to rescue you. Here we go, big guy.  I got you nice and safe.  Easy does it now.  You�ll be home with your mommy in just a few minutes; back on the ground, safe and sound.�

Then I did something I normally do only for Mrs. Bontwissel: I started to purr.   I just couldn�t help myself.  I just purred. That fireman smelled so good! He had really good breath. I couldn�t help smelling him since he was holding me wrapped right up against his face. I rubbed my cheeks against his cheeks and kept purring, hoping to get him to talk to me again so I could figure out why his breath smelled so good.

�You�re very welcome, big guy.�  Fireman LeShawn said.  �You are an incredible cat.  You�re incredibly brave to climb all that way up and all that way down.  You must have great muscles to be able to do that.�

Now this was more like it.  None of that �mousie-wousie, baby buglet,� sissy stuff. I am a very brave and strong cat. I was also a very happy cat because I had figured out why I liked my rescuer�s breath so much. He had been eating (sniff, sniff) pizza! Not only that, (Sniff, Sniff) it had been a double cheese pizza!!  Best of all, (SNIFF, SNNIFFF!)  It had been a double cheese pizza with extra anchovies!!!

Wouldn�t you have purred if someone with cheese and anchovy pizza on his breath had been hugging you?  You know you would!  You�d probably even purr!!  MMMMMmmmmmm.

I have learned a couple of important things today.  One, never let Mrs. Bontwissel see me when I�m up at the top of the date palm.  Two, I really liked floating around in the air in the cherry picker.  And three, I have got to find a place that sells pizza with double cheese and double anchovies to a cat who has no money.


				            CHAPTER SIX
BOB BOB BOBBIN� WITH A RED RED ROBIN

The next day I decided it was time to put serious effort into trying to be able to soar high up in the air. Or at least get more rides in the cherry picker.  I figured out that no one was going to sell anchovy pizza to a cat with no money � or any cat at all, for that matter.  So it stood to reason that I wasn�t going to be able to buy my own fire truck and cherry picker.  

But maybe the intelligent thing to do would be to talk to those who do fly.  Now I�m not dumb enough to think that they can teach me to fly, but maybe they could give me some pointers on how they fly.  There are all kinds of creatures that fly, not just birds.  There are butterflies, milkweed silks, bugs, dandelion fluffs, flying squirrels, bats, and beetles to name a few.  I�m ruling out the milkweeds and dandelions because they can�t talk. Bats are out because they fly at night eating up all the annoying bugs.  We don�t have flying squirrels in my neighborhood, so that leaves birds and beetlebugs.

 As anyone who is owned by a cat knows, we cats are very careful about everything we do.  We observe. We think. We consider. We usually ignore.  I am not conceited but we cats pretty much have it all wrapped up with our brains, looks, smarts and agility. We can move like sunlight on an ocean wave.  And we�re cute too.  (If you aren�t owned by a cat you should be.  Your life will be much happier!) 

So! Who do I tackle first? Birds, obviously. They are all over the place now.  Mrs. Bontwissel puts food out for them.  I like birds, especially robins.  They are almost as elegant as cats are.  They have dark grey jackets with bright orange bellies and a couple of white white feathers that flash when they fly.  Classy.  They are also very tasty.

GOTCHA!

I would never eat a robin.  I like listening to them sing way too much. They are especially good in the late afternoon:  �Tweedledee up! Tweedledee down!� 

Therefore, I start with the robins.  But first, I�ll have a little breakfast, a quick bath, two or three laps up and down the palm tree to keep my reflexes sharp because you just never know.  And besides, I know there is no point in trying to talk to robins early in the morning because they are too busy hunting the early worms.  So I wandered into the front yard about half past breakfast.

Another reason I like robins is because they have dignity and intelligence.  Like someone else I could mention. Ahem. Most other birds start screeching their tiny bird brains out when they see me. As if I would chase them.  I mean really, how undignified is that?  Robins are like us cats. They stop.  They observe. They consider. Then they skitter.

I sat quietly on the lawn for a few moments to let everyone get a good look at me.  I didn�t want them thinking that I was sneaking up on them. The robins all froze in place.  They weren�t freaking out.  They were just observing and considering me.  Finally I cleared my throat.  �Good morning, all. I hope you�re enjoying your breakfasts.�

I couldn�t see how on earth they could enjoy their breakfasts; they were eating worms.  WORMS!  Long, cold slimy worms.  Up to fifteen feet of worms a day. EEWWWWWWWWWWW!!!

One of the larger robins skittered over to me. That�s how robins move on a lawn: they skitter. Watch birds sometimes and see how they all have different ways of moving. �Good morning to you as well. You�re Tadwallader, aren�t you?� She had a lovely voice.

�Holy catfish!  How did you know my name?� I asked. 

�Oh we keep track of what�s going on in the neighborhood.  Who is who; what is what.  Who stalks; who chases; who eats what; all that sort of thing. We use the Inter-nest.� She cocked her head to see me better. She has beautiful eyes � like melted licorice.  �You are none of the above.  The Bird Word says you�re an intelligent cat and therefore safe.  You observe but don�t offend.�

Well!  That sums me up purrfectly.  �Thank you.  I�m glad to see you understand me so well.  I have always admired how your people do business as well.  In fact I would love to get some advice from you.�

�I�d be very happy � wait a minute.� She cocked her head to listen, did a sudden tack to the right and nailed some poor worm before it ever knew what hit it.  Although I like to be polite, I did have to turn my head while that worm was sliding down her throat.  I could see it wriggling � all the way down.  EEEWWWWWW.

She dabbed her beak against some blades of grass that still had dew on them and resumed our conversation. �So what kind of advice are you looking for?� She asked.

�It�s this flying thing you folks do so well.  How come all you birds seem to know how to fly without anyone teaching you? And how come I can�t fly no matter who teaches me?�

The robin stared at the ground for a long moment.  I thought that maybe she was hearing another worm below us.  I can�t tell you how creepy my feet felt just thinking about all the worms I was probably standing on top of.  EWWWWWWWWWW.

�You know, that�s a very interesting question you asked,� she said. �Let me ask you one.  How did you cats learn to leap, climb and bounce the way you do?�

�We�they�I don�t know,� I confessed. �It�s all part of our equipment, I guess.  How does a cat know how to be a cat? I don�t know � it�s just what we do. Oh!  I get it.�

She smiled at me and nodded her head.  �Exactly.  All of us have special abilities and skills built into us.  We just have to figure out what they are and then we can live our lives properly.�

I saw hat she meant but I was a little disappointed. �So I can never fly because I�m a cat?�

�Probably not, but there is nothing that says we can�t learn new skills from each other.  After all, people watched us for a long time and learned how to make machines to let them fly.  Maybe I could show you some new skills or ways to improve your old ones.�

Uh oh.  I hope she wasn�t going to try to get me to eat worms. I tried not to gag at the thought.  I�ll try most new skills but not that!!!  �That would be very nice,� I said.  �Like what?� (Not eat worms.  Please, not eating worms.)

�Well, since you ask,� the robin said slowly, �I believe I could make a few suggestions about improving your running and climbing skills.�

Boooiiinnnggg!!  I mean, excuse me!  Me?  I need lessons in climbing and running???  Lessons from a bird????  �I don�t understand what you mean,� I tried not to laugh.

�Have you ever watched a bird?  Really studied our movements carefully?� she asked.

She wanted to know if I � a magnificent cat - had ever studied a bird. Does a pizza come with anchovies?  I mean, really!  �Of course I have.� I snorted.

�Then you�ve noticed that we land birds tend to fall into three groups.�

�Huh?� I asked brilliantly.

The robin nodded her head. �I see.  Well, for example, watch us robins. We skitter.  Observe my friends here.�

So I watched the other robins on the lawn.  �Yes, I see what you mean. It�s not really running, it�s moving on tiptoes. Really fast.�

�Not bad,� she said approvingly. �But you missed a point.  Look again.�

�Aha!  It looks like you skitter all the time but you don�t.  You stop, listen, twist, and then speed off in another direction. And then drag a worm out of the ground. Now I get it.  You�re listening for the worms to move then you get to them before they can hear you coming. Is that it?� 
  
The robin beamed with pride. �Exactly.  You are obviously a very intelligent cat.�

Obviously.

�Now you,� she continued, �you just race all over your date palm there. But why?  You don�t seem to have any plan.�

�I didn�t know I was supposed to have a plan,� I admitted humbly.

�Everyone needs to have a plan.  Lots of plans. How else do you have a life? That�s what life is.  Making plans, trying them out, seeing what works and what you like.�

�Suppose the plan doesn�t work?�

�Make another, better plan.  At least you�ll know what doesn�t work for you.  Grow! Learn! Experiment!  God has made a terrific universe for us.  What could be a better plan than learning as much about it as possible? Tad, you could learn from us robins. Stop. Observe. Listen. Plan. Then skitter. You might get a tasty snack.  You might even save your life.�

�You really make a lot of sense.  But you said there were three kinds of land birds.  What about the other two kinds? What do they �� I stopped talking because I could see the robin wasn�t listening.  At least not to me.  She was hearing something from the look on her face.  I wasn�t the �I hear a worm� expression.  Whatever she was hearing made her nervous.  So I listened too.

Pat, pat, pat, swish.  I heard it myself. Pat.pat. pattypat, patty pat! It was feet!  Cat feet. Cat looking to start a problem feet.  Nasty feet.  RUSTY feet! Rusty, the annoying cat next door and a real pain in the tail feet.  He is fat as his owner so he wasn�t hungry.  He just wanted to annoy the robins.  Maybe I could annoy him so I followed the robin�s advice.

I froze like the robins had.  I listened.  I observed some flowers moving in the garden but there wasn�t any wind.  It had to be Rusty moving in them.  I studied the area carefully.  Aha! He had to come out right beside the daisies.

I made a plan. I slid over to where the roses were and hid under a branch just in back of where Rusty was hiding.  He slid out, got ready to pounce.  I slid out and got ready to POUNCE!!! Right on top of Rusty�s tail and I dug my claws in.  �YEEOOWW!�  I screeched as I squeezed his tail.

I thought Rusty was going to do a wee-wee from the shock.  �Mommmmy!�
He yelled.  �Mommmmyyyyyy!� He took off like the space shuttle.

�Mommy?�   �Mommy?�  A cat who is bigger, nastier and older than I am and is the neighborhood bully is yelling for his mommy?  You never know about some cats.

The robins all came crowding around me.  �How can we thank you?� The one I had been chatting with asked me.  �That Rusty is one mean cat.  None of us birds like him.  It�s not like it�s a fair fight or he needs food for his kittens.  He just likes to cause trouble wherever he goes. And you saved us!�

�It was your advice to me that saved you.  I just did what you told me.  I made a plan and it worked. So I guess when we all work together good things happen.�

She nodded. �That�s what I was trying to say.� She took a little running hop. �Now, if you�ll excuse us, I think we should take off for a while until Rusty calms down.� One by one, the robins leaped into the air.

�Wait!� I yelled.  �You still haven�t told me about what I can learn from the other two types of birds.� 

My friend swooped around and made a perfect two-point landing right in front of my nose. �I really do have to fly,� she said. �Try the chickens across the street.  They will have some good advice and point you in the next direction. Gotta go!  Toodles!� And she was gone.

SO! What did I learn from this adventure?  For one thing that I � a cat � did I mention that I�m a cat?  Even I can learn a few things from a bird. Of course, I had no idea just how useful the robins� advice would be. That would come later.   


				CHAPTER 6
I EAT A BEETLEBUG�NOT!
Let�s face t, I did a terrific job scaring the kibble out of Rusty but it also made me a little tired.  I decided a quick snooze under the hibiscus plants might be in order.  And it was.  I even learned something else.  I learned if you dig a little ditch under the hibiscus, scrunch around a little to get to where it is a little damp and cool and soft, you can go to sleep. Just���.like��..thatmmmmmmmmmzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.
It was almost mid-afternoon when I woke up. What a delicious thing a nap can be!  I felt so good I thought I�d continue my research on flying. So over to Mr. Kreger�s house to talk with his chickens. Of course, no one actually talks with chickens; you just sort of have to listen to chickens.    

I knew I should talk with the rooster first.  Then hens were under his supervision so I decided it would be best to let him know that I understood he was in charge.  It�s about respect. So I sat on top of the fence for a few minutes to let him get a good look at me and to let him decide when he wanted to hear me out. What I don�t need is an enraged rooster chasing me down the street.  They have these spurs on their legs.  When a rooster is mad, he runs after you, leaps up in the air and jabs you with those spurs.  I bet that�s a real owwweee!

The chickens have a big yard.  Mr. Kreger has enclosed it with a pretty bark fence which is easy for climbing and easy for sitting and observing.  Which is what I did and waited politely for the rooster to notice me.

We had met a couple of times.  Well, not met exactly, but I know he watched me and nodded �hello� if I walked past his house or climb one of his trees.  He knew who I was.  

I had to wait several minutes but I knew he was making me wait to make himself look more important to his flock.  Finally, one of the hens walked over to the rooster and pecked him right on the head � WHACK! And shoved him over toward me. 

Whhat is it youuu wwwant, yyyoung mannnn?� he asked in this skritchy, scratchy voice.  He gave me a very stern look.  �IIIII hope yyyou aren�ttttt heeere to steal any eggggggs.�

He was safe on that one.  I don�t do raw eggs.  Scrambled eggs with buttered toast are fine.  Raw eggs are right up there with raw worms.  Or cooked worms for that matter.  

�No, sir!  I wouldn�t dream of touching your eggs.  No one would.  Everyone in town knows how fierce you are when you�re protecting the eggs.�  Hey, it never hurts to be polite.  He ruffled his feathers and flicked his comb a couple of times. His wattles got redder and redder with pride.

�Tttrue�tttrue.  I can be very fierce when I need to be.  Remember that, yyyounggggg man.  Whyyy I remember the time when that cat � what was his name? � came over here and was looking kind of funny at some of the baby chicks.  I just stretched out a claw � �

Luckily, the hen that had pecked the rooster before came back over and pecked him again.  �The cat�s name was Rrrusty, you old fool,� she said.  Now go back to the yard and dig up some fresh beetlebugs for those chicks.  They�re hungry and their mothers need a break.�

Without another word, the rooster stalked off followed by eight or nine chicks all pushing and shoving each other to be closer to the big guy.

The hen watched the rooster as he scratched up some dirt, looking for beetles.  �If I didn�t peck him every now and then he�d be standing here telling war stories until the eggs were hatched, grown and laying eggs of their own.�  She fluffed her feathers and shook herself. �Nnnow what can I do for you, young mannnn?�

�I�m trying to learn about flying.� I said.  �A robin I know told me to ask you for advice.�

�III don�t know howwww much help I can give you.  We chickenssss don�t rrrreally fly very much. What did the robin tell you?�

�She said that you land birds have different ways of moving.  Her folks are skitterers.  They run on their tippy toes. But she didn�t have a chance to tell me what other birds do.  So what do chickens do?�

�Well, young mmmmannn, I guess you could say we are scratchers and flippers.    
We stalk over to examine something, scratch at it to see what it is.  If it looks good, we flip it in the air and peck it up when it lands before it can run away.  Observe how Rooster gets bugs for the chicks.�

Rooster knew we were watching him because he fluffed out his bright brown body feathers with black and red neck feathers, just to make them shine.  Then he walked a couple of steps to a clump of grass and scratched at it.  First with one claw; then the other.  Dirt and grass flew into the air.  So did a few bugs hiding in the grass.  Rooster examined them as they dropped back to earth. �Allllright, chicksss.  These are safe to eat.�  

The poor beetles tried to escape, but those hungry little chicks were too fast.  
Crrrack!  Crrrunch! Slurp!  (Oooooh � that must have been a really juicy bug.) And those bugs were gone!

I must have closed my eyes for a second because suddenly I could feel a tapping on my right front paw.  It was one of the chicks.  He was holding a squirming beetlebug in his beak.  The chick couldn�t say anything because he was having a hard time holding onto the totally gross thing with all its legs waving in the air.  The mother hen explained.

�He�s giving you a present.  Now isn�t he the politest little thing?� Her eyes were shining with pride. The little chick was blushing with excitement. 

�Oh, I couldn�t, really.� I protested. And I meant it.  REALLY.

�He wants you to have it,� she said, �and so do I.� The tone of her voice made it clear that this was an order.  In fact, it was darn close to being a threat.

�Yes, well, of course then.  Thanks very much, little guy.� I said as he placed
the beetlebug, all of its disgusting legs still waving, in front of my paws. I bent over, scratched at the bug to flip it into the air then swallowed it whole. I thought I could hear the bug screaming all the way down to my belly.  I knew I could feel its legs scratching my throat.  I closed my eyes again.

�Was it good?� The little one asked hopping from one foot to the other in his excitement.  Actually, it was one of my feet to the other he was hopping on.   

�Delicious. The purrfect ending to a purrfectly lovely visit.�  I turned back to his mother who was watching me with approval on her face.  �Thank you so much for your advice, ma�am,� I said. �In the future, I�ll remember to stalk, scratch, flip and examine.  And thank you, little guy for the delicious snack.�

�I can get you some more if you like!� He offered excitedly.

�NO!  Uh, I mean, no, thank you. One was just the purrfect amount.� Strutting with pride, the chick rejoined the others who were still scratching up all sorts of incredible edibles.     

I took my leave of Mother Hen.  �Thank you for your time, ma�am,� I stretched and bowed.  Mothers appreciate nice manners.  

�Yourrr very welcome, young man.  I can see that you had a very good mother.� 

�Yes, she was a great mother.�

�She must be very proud of you.  So let me give you an idea.  Why don�t you wander down to the beach one day and talk to the pelicans.  I know they aren�t really land birds, but they may have some ideas that might help you. They do walk on land but they can also fly,  swim, dive underwater and catch fish! They will surely have interesting things to tell you.�

I was excited.  �Gee, thanks.  I never would have thought of that. I will definitely follow your advice.  Now, if you will excuse me, I have to go.�  I really did.  My tummy was feeling very odd.  Kind of twitchy and itchy.  I really needed to be alone.

�YYYou�re most welcome, young man.  Come back any time.� Suddenly she spun around and stalked back to the chicks.  �Stanley! Don�t eat that!  It isn�t a bug! Drop it right this minute, young man!�

My tummy was getting more and more upset so I took off and headed for a thick patch of grasses.  I sat down, out of sight and concentrated �Uuughh�..uuuggghhh�orork!� and upchuckled. Up came the beetle and out went the beetle and Yes! All of its legs were still attached. Yippee!

�I am so sorry,� I told the beetle after I helped it turn upright. �I didn�t really want to swallow you but I had to.�

The beetle looked up at me with the same expression on its face that I probably had on mine when I swallowed it.  �Well, for one thing, � the beetle sputtered, �you could have said that you were allergic.  Or that you were a vegetarian.�  That beetle was really mad.

I lowered my head. Partly for shame and partly to get a better look at him.   
�I didn�t think of it in time,� I admitted. �I wish I had thought of that at the time. I guess I was just too grossed out just thinking about swallowing you.�

�I hope you don�t think that this experience was the biggest thrill of my young life, either.� The beetle was working himself up to a real hissy fit. �How would you feel if someone swallowed you whole and then, just when you think you�ve reached the end of the line, have to make the whole trip again.  But this time, backwards!  And the things I saw sloshing around in your stomach. EEEEWWWwww! Gross! You should rethink your diet.� With that the beetle crawled off and disappeared into the bushes.  But I could still hear him muttering to himself. �Roosters, chicks, cats, anchovies.  Bah!�

Today�s lesson, campers, is � Don�t ever get into a situation where you have to eat a beetle. Whether they are going down or coming back up, the beetles don�t like it.

Neither will you.


					CHAPTER SEVEN
   		 THE RETURN OF THE BEETLE

Today has been one rough day.  Talking with robins, stalking with chickens, spiraling the date palm, not to mention eating and upchuckling a beetlebug. I needed someone who would say nice things to me and rub my tummy.

Oh, Mrs. Bonnntwissssel!  

When I got back to the house, I ran my cold wet nose around Mrs. B�s ankle to let her know I was back.  After her usual squeak of surprise, she knew exactly what I wanted.    

After a nice long tummy rub, a refreshing ten-hour nap, a light breakfast of Kitty�s Kibbies (good but not anchovy pizza), and a through scrub up, it was time to face the day. Let�s see.  Who should I talk with now? I strolled across the yard to the date palm.  

Wait!  Why was the dandelion moving like that? I stopped.  I considered. I stalked. I made a plan.  When my plan was set,I skittered as fast as possible to the suspicious dandelion.  I flipped the object into the air and examined it as it fell. The examination didn�t take very long.

�Oh, for pity�s sake.  Not you again!? Don�t you have anything better to do with your life than making my life miserable?�  Oh no! It was the beetle from yesterday. �And please don�t tell me you are going to eat me just to upchuckle me again.�

�I am sooo sorry. I never meant�I don�t want�Oh, gosh.�  I just sat down and stared at the beetle. �I was just looking for someone to teach me about flying and I saw the dandelion moving.  I decided to practice some of the things I was taught yesterday. Do you have any advice?�

�Yes I do.  Get a life!  And leave me out of it.  Go to the beach.  Get a tan.  Learn to swim. Eat something that expects to be eaten.� He stomped off under the bushes again.

�Have a nice day,� I called after him.

�I should have listened to my mother,� I could hear him saying. � �Stay in the forest�, she said. �Stick to rotten logs�, she said. But would I listen? Nooo! I knew better than Mom. I knew better than any one.  And now look! In and out of cats� stomachs � day in and day out.  Where does it all end?�

He turned to glare at me. �Perhaps you could point me to the nearest forest, with lots of lovely rotten logs.  One with no chickens and NO CATS!! Why don�t you go and pick on someone else.  Like a Tyrannosaurus Rex for an example.�

Wow! Some beetlebugs sure are grumpy in the morning.  But � wait! What did he say?  Something abut going to the beach?  That�s what the hen said. The beach it is.  And a pelican.  

I wonder if pelicans are morning people.



					CHAPTER EIGHT
         	            ON THE BEACH

It�s a terrific day to be at the beach!  The sun was pouring liquid gold all over the liquid sand.  The breeze was filled with the fragrance of sparkling ocean and salt and beach roses and exciting adventures.  Besides, since Mrs. Bontwissel�s sister had been smoking at my house just a day before, my fur could use a little airing out.

We live just a short drive from the ocean.  As usual, Mrs. B decided to make a picnic lunch for us to eat on the sand.  I guess that�s where the word sand in sandwich comes from.  There sure is a lot of it in your food when you try to eat it.  

Mrs. B didn�t seem to mind the gritty sound of sand in her tuna salad but it made my teeth itch. I examined each bit of tuna in my sandwich before eating it.  That way I ate hardly any grit at all.  

After lunch, while Mrs. B chatted with some friends, I decided to explore.  As I approached the edge of the water a huge black shadow suddenly swept over me.  Without even thinking, I flattened myself out, twisted my head around, listened carefully, and examined the area for the nearest place of safety. Over there!  That pile of rocks with a big pole sticking up had lots of good spaces for hiding! I ran like crazy to get myself into one of those hiding places.    

Safe inside a little cave in the rocks, I looked out carefully, trying to figure out just where the scary thing was. There was nothing in the sky except for some throw pillows made from clouds.  

�Somethin� botherin� ya there, Sonny?� The voice came from the top of the pole.
One of these days I am going to have a heart attack if things keep creeping up and scaring me.  I mean, a cat can take just so much.  Even a cat as magnificent as I am.  

�I ask if you�re okay because it seemed to me like I might of skeered you a litttle bit.�  The voice was coming from the top of the pole.  I poked my head out to get a better look.  Since his beak had a big smile that went all the way around his face, I decided it was safe to come out.  �Sure.  I�m fine.  I wasn�t scared a bit.  I was just racing with that big shadow that flew over me.� 

The pelican studied me for a second.  I think that smile got a little bigger. But he nodded.  �Yep. Thought that�s what you were doin�. You almost won, too.�   

 Almost??

�Nice day for racin�, ain�t it?�  He said conversationally.  

�Very,� I agreed.  Then I had a thought.  �Say, could you give me some advice?�

�Ask away, Sonny.  Just let me have a quick one and I�ll be right back atcha.� He pointed his beak straight up, shook it, then began making gulping sounds.  �Deelish!.  Oh, land�s sake.  Where are my manners at?  Care for a snack too, Sonny?�  He dropped down from the pole to the sand and opened his beak wide. I looked in.  The top of his beak was regular beak.  But the bottom was just a soft pouch that hung down.  And at the bottom of the pouch was something that wriggled.  

�Help yerself, Sonny.� The pelican waved an inviting wing. I realize that there were a couple of live fish flopping around in that pouch. The pelican tossed his head, and one of the fish flew up into the air, did a neat somersault, and slid down the pelican�s throat.

�Mmmm.  Tasty. Care for the other one?�

Now I love fish, especially fresh fish.  But this one was flopping around in someone else�s mouth.  EEEEEEwwwwwwwwww!

�Uh, thanks but I better not.  I just finished my lunch a few minutes ago.  Tuna.� I explained.

�Mmmhmm.  Canned tuna was it?  These is fresh fish.  Just caught a couple of minutes ago over there near the sand bar.  Can�t get any fresher than that.� He pointed with one enormous wing.

�Maybe not.  I might be allergic.�  A cat that�s allergic to fish?  Pretty lame, there, Tad. I was embarrassing myself.

The pelican eyed me again then shrugged his wings.  �No skin offa my beak.
Upsy daisy!� With that, he tossed the last fish into the air and swallowed the fella whole. To break the silence, I asked the pelican if he had time to chat.

�Sure enough, now that my belly is full.  Whatcha wanna chat about?�

�I�m really interested in everything about flying.  While I was talking with a hen over at Mr. Kreger�s house, she said you might have some ideas for me.�

�She did, huh?  Can�t think why. We don�t really fly much exactly.  So what did she tell you about us pelicans?�

�Not much.  But I have watched you from the top of my date palm.  You do look really graceful when you fly, then dive, catch a fish then fly back up into the air.  How do you do that?�

�Them chickens surely don�t know much about us pelicans, I can tell you that.� He shook his head. �Landlubbers! First of all, Sonny.  We don�t none of us fish when we�re swimmin�.  Second, we hardly ever fly.�

Uh ohhhh.  Crazy bird alert! �Of course you fly.  I can see you flying all the time from my house.� I protested.  You guys fly all the time.�

�Izzat so, Sonny? Watch them old geezers overhead right now.  You see any of them flying?�

I looked up.  There was a line of about five or six pelicans soaring along the water�s edge.  If you didn�t know they were living birds, you would have thought that they were kites that some kids were playing with.  They just seemed to hover in one place without moving. But they did glide in a straight line, one in back of the other, wings outstretched. They made hardly any movements at all.  It was verrrry soooothinggg.

Up the beach, down the beach, soar and glide.  Follow the wind; let the wind follow you. Up and down, stay in line. Once in a while one would flap a lazy wing just to catch up with the others.  I found a nice soft place on the sand where I could sit and watch the pelicans more comfortably. Mostly they just glided from place to place.  Soar and lift; turn and glide; coast and driftttttzzzzzzzz.

�Hey!  Wake up there, young fella!  We have things to discuss.� 

I realized I had curled up in that warm place on the sand and had drifted off to sleep. In my defense, it was really easy to do what with that pat, pat, pat of the soft ocean wavelets touching the beach.  The delicate fragrance of the beach roses coming from the pathway just (sniff, sniff) to the left of the big sand dune in back of us.  The sun was warm; my tummy was full, and those pelicans were so sooothinggggg just glidinggggg and soaringgggzzzzzz.

WOW! What was THAT? It turned out that THAT was a beach crab crawling over my front paw. It felt really creepy � all those legs! Some of them could really pinch. Brrrr.  I must have leaped five feet straight up.

�Did you come here to talk or to sleep, Sonny?�  The pelican was laughing at me.  

�Oh, to talk. Really.  It�s just that your friends have such a fascinating way of flying.�

��At�s a fact, Jack.  Sometimes we even fall asleep ourselves up there.�

�No, you don�t.  You couldn�t.  You�d just fall in the water and drown.�

�Guess you warn�t payin� real close attention.  We pelicans almos� never fly.  Just enough to get us airborne.  Then we find ourselves a nice air strong current and hitch a ride. We jes� spread our wings and enjoy the free ride. These big wings of ours help us change directions.  Kind of like the way your people do with their oars.  We jes� steer with our wings. Ain�t that the cat�s whiskers?� He chortled. �Beggin� your pardon.  No offense meant.�

�None taken,� I replied while fighting back yet another yawn.  Pelicans sure can put you to sleep.  But then � something went terribly wrong!

One by one the pelicans began falling out of the sky!


					CHAPTER NINE
   	        DIVIN� AND JIVIN�

Oh the pelicans!  The pelicans!  They dropped from the sky like used up booster rockets. They hit the water with hardly a splash and disappeared underwater.  On right after the other!

�Quick,� I shouted to the old pelican standing with me.  �Run and hide.  Something bad is happening to your friends!�

The old bird turned around just in time to see the last of his friends disappear under water. �Whoopee!� he shouted, took some very clumsy running steps to lift himself into the air and flew to where his friends had disappeared. 

�No!  Wait!� I shouted after him.  �Don�t go there.  It might be dangerous. Stop!� But it was no use.  He wouldn�t listen.  Even worse, his wings collapsed tight against his body and he spiraled into the water.  I closed my eyes and groaned.  Why?  I had tried to warn him.  Why didn�t he listen to me?  I just sat there with my eyes closed.

Thummp!  Thuuud! Splat! Something cold, wet, slimy and very much alive was falling on my head. And it wasn�t rain drops.

�You sleepin� again, kid?�  I was awake now! The old pelican was squinting down at me from the top of the pole.  On my feet were a couple of flopping fish.  �Help yourself there, Sonny. Them�s tasty ones, them is.  And there�s lots of �em out there.� He pointed one wing out to the water. Then with one smooth move, he flipped a fish down his own throat. 

�But how?  What happened?  I saw all your friends hit the water.  I thought you were all�all�� I looked out to the water where he was pointing.  And there were four�five�all six pelicans floating on the water, busily tossing fish down their throats.  

�Guess you warn�t lookin� as close as you shudda been. See, when I say that we don�t really fly, I mean we don�t go around flapping our wings.  We grab a nice air current and just soar on it.  We let it take us where it wants.  We watch our shadows on the water.  That way, we can see if there�s any fish below us.  If there is, we just fold up tight and WHAMMO!! We drop right on top o� Mr. Fishy. Heh, heh.�  He gobbled another fish.  
     
I took a few bites of one of my fish; he was right � it was very tasty.  I tidied my whiskers.  �But how do you keep up with those fish way down below you?  Don�t they just see you coming and swim away?�

The pelican nodded approvingly.  �Now you�re paying attention.  But not close enough attention. Now watch very carefully and see if you can figure it out yourself. We pelicans have a leetle trick up our feathers that them fishies never have figured out.  Now watch me.�  He lumbered down the beach again and launched himself into the air.  He made a couple of swoops over my head.  �Watch carefully, young fella.  Don�t go to sleep on me now.�  One more swoop and he headed for the ocean.  

Then suddenly, his wings wrapped themselves around him and he dropped like a rock straight down�.WAIT A MINUTE!!  He didn�t drop straight down at all.  Just an instant before he hit the water he�no he didn�t�he couldn�t�he DID! Just as he hit the water, he did a somersault!  Holy swordfish! Those pelicans were not chasing the fish!  They were dropping in front of them and letting the fish chase them � right into those open pouches.

How clever is that!?!


					CHAPTER 10
SOMERSAULTS ARE NOT AS EASY THEY LOOK

The pelican popped up in front of me, swallowing a thoughtful fish.  �Well,  Sonny, didja larn anythin� there?�  

�I think so.�  I still wasn�t sure I had seen what I thought I saw.

�Lay it on me, what didja see this time?�

�At first, It looked like you were doing what you did before:  you all just fell into the water but��

He nodded encouragingly.  �Go ahead.  What did you see this time?�
He was floating there, putting a webbed foot out every so often to keep himself in one place.

�I thought I saw�Did I see you flip a somersault as you hit the water?�
I was almost afraid to say it.  I mean a somersaulting pelican?  Seriously?

The pelican beat the water with his wings, threw his head back and chortled.
�Yep, that�s exactly what you saw. When them little fishes see us comin� up behind �em, they swim as fast as they can to get away from us.  What they don�t see is us somersaultin� over their heads in front of them, and they jes� swim right into the pouch!  Pretty slick, hey Slick?�

�It�s pretty slick, alright.  I�m impressed.�  I was really, really impressed. �I can�t even imagine how you can flip a somersault while flying at top speed! I�ll bet baby pelicans get really sore neck muscles, not to mention really bad headaches, practicing that trick!�

But the pelicans shook his head.  �Not a bit of it.  We pelicans were designed to flip.  We come with a cushion in our beaks and special muscles in our necks. That�s what makes us special.  What makes you special?�

�Me?  Special?  I�m just a regular cat.  A magnificent, incredible, pizza with anchovies loving cat, true.  But I don�t think I�m special.�

��Course you�re special.  Everyone is special.  Everyone is given a special part for them to play in their life. I guess you jes� don�t know what yours is yet.�

I had a brilliant idea. �Maybe I could be the first pelican-cat. A pelicat!!!
How does that sound?�

The pelican closed one eye and just floated there.  �Do you know how to dive, Sonny? Dive and somersault on your way down?�

�No, but I�ve see you do it?  How hard can it be?�

�Sure, young fella.  It�s easy, especially since you�ve seen it once or twice. Go for it. Take a couple of practice dives.  Just to get the hang of it.� He closed his other eye. He looked like he had fallen asleep, but I thought I heard another muffled chuckle.

�Okay, I will.� Now of course we cats have amazing skills in leaping, twisting in mid air and landing on our feet.  How hard could it be to do what a bunch of pelicans could do?  So I climbed to the top of the pole where the pelican had been perched before and dove off.  Just before I hit the sand, I twisted myself into a loop.

�Woof!� I hit the sand like a sack of bricks.  I felt like I had been hit with a sack of bricks.

�Not as easy as it looks, eh, Sonny?�  The pelican chortled and lifted a wing to smooth a stray feather back into its place.  

It wasn�t easy as it looked.  But wasn�t about to admit it.  �My mistake,� I admitted to that.  �I should have dived into the water.  That�s your secret, isn�t it?  Diving into nice soft water?�

�Iffen you say so, Sonny.  Iffen that�s what you seen us do.  You should know.� His voice was kind of muffled because he was tidying up more feathers.  But � was that a giggle I heard in all those feathers? I thought I could hear something that sounded like a giggle.  Maybe not.

I knew I was right, so scampered back up the pole and listened for the rhythm of the waves so I could time my dive.  I wanted the water to be deep enough for me to dive safely without breaking my neck but not so deep that I couldn�t jump right out before I got too wet.  I hate wet fur.  But this was a science experiment.  We all have to make sacrifices for science.  

When I thought I had the right wave, I dove off the pole, twisted as I dove, and hit the water.  WHACK! Holy kitty kibble! And I thought hitting the sand hurt!  Hitting the water was like hitting myself with that sack of bricks!

My first thought was that I had broken every bone in my body.  My second thought was 
WET FUR!!  AAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGHHHHH!!!!

�Smarts, don�t it?� chuckled the pelican. 

Since my mouth was full of fur and salt water, I couldn�t answer.  I shook off as much wet as I could.  I wasn�t as wet as I could have been; I had been too quick for that. But I was still going to need some serious grooming time to fix this mess.

�I had no idea water was so hard.� I admitted.  �How do you guys do that?  You must get enormous headaches.  Why don�t you skitter after worms like the robins or scratch and flip bugs like the chickens?�

�Well, that would be a fine how dee do, wouldn�t it?  Iffen we all was after the same food?  How would it be iffen all the animals like zebras and peacocks and bears, and lions and elephants and people all ate the same thing?  There wouldn�t hardly be enough to go around, now would there?�  So we each decide what we�re designed to eat � and there we are.  Each according to his need.  Pretty good Plan, ain�t it? This way, everyone gets his or her fair share of the Plan.

�And besides,� he added smugly, We are designed for the job.  The rest of you�uns,� he swept a wide open wing to indicate the rest of the planet, �ain�t.�

I sure wasn�t.  I could see that now.  �That does make sense,� I agreed.  Heaven knows I wouldn�t want my yard crammed with all sorts of anteaters and humming birds and deer and kangaroos all trying to get at my supper dish.  And I sure didn�t want to compete with them for worms and bugs, and each other. I�ve had all the experience eating bugs I will ever need in my life, thank you very much.

�Maybe I need to practice this more.  On a nice soft bed. Or maybe I�ll just give up the idea of being a pelicat and just stick to being the best ME I can be.�

�Sounds like a plan to me.  By the way, there�s a lady up on the sand dune there wavin� her arms like a octopus. Is she your lady?�

Sure enough, it was Mrs. Bontwissel wavin� � oops, I mean waving � her arms and calling my name.  �I guess I better go.  When Mrs. B has been out in the sun for a couple of hours, she gets really sleepy and needs her nap.  I better get back to her so I can keep an eye on her driving.  Nice meeting you.�

 �Right back atcha, Sonny.  Next time you come by I�ll teach you how to pick out the bestest fish for eatin�.�

�Great! Thanks.� I called over my shoulder.  I had to hurry because Mrs. B. was looking very sleepy.  You�d think she�s stay away from the ocean since it does make her so tired. But, like she tells everyone, �I moved to be close to the ocean because I love it.  I could never live anywhere else. Even if it does make me sleepy.�  I agree.

Memo to self: Water is a whole lot harder than it looks. 



   CHAPTER ELEVEN
MRS. BONTWISSEL�S ROTTEN SISTER STRIKES AGAIN!

Mrs. B. parked the car carefully in the garage.  She had to do it carefully because she has so much junk in there. Then we both tidied up a bit and I tucked Mrs. B. into bed. I sat next to her and hummed for a little bit until she gave a big sigh, turned over on her side, and went right to sleep.

After I saw to Mrs. B, I knew it was time to really tidy myself up.  Because of the sand and salt water my skin felt all tight and itchy.  I knew what I had to do. So I went outside. Stopped.  Listened carefully.  Planned my attack.  And on my tippy toes, skittered as fast as I could through the sprinkler.  Which of course was stupid because I ran too fast for the water to wash me off.  So I skittered again but this time much slower.  Nope, still not enough.  

I just stood there, dripping, trying to figure out what to do next.

�Perhaps you need to take things much mores slowly?� I opened my eyes enough to see a stately raven standing in front of me.  He was so black that he glistened in the sun.  The lucky! �You are defeating your own purpose by taking things too quickly,� he observed.
�I assume you have some sort of issue with your fur which you feel that standing under a sprinkler will rectify?� 

�Yes, sir. I fell into the ocean and now my fur is all sticky and salty.  I thought if I ran through the sprinkler, I could get clean.�

�Your idea was well intentioned.  You would be foolish to attempt to wash yourself with your own tongue.  I assume that is what you would do normally?�

�Normally, yes.  But now I�m all salty and disgusting � not to mention cigarette smoke from��

�Mmm yes. But why were you running in such a strange fashion? I�ve never seen a cat move like that.�

�My friend the robin taught me that. Then Mother Hen taught me to stalk and flip but there was nothing to flip.  And I already have a headache from diving in the ocean like my friend the pelican.  Which is how I got this way to begin with.� 

The raven nodded.  �All good advice,� he agreed, �for them in their situations.  You are a different animal altogether and in an altogether different situation.  We ravens do things a little differently as well.  We observe from on high.  We notice everything.  We plan the most logical way to get our task done best. We get an overview of our situation before choosing and applying the most effective skills.�

I was confused. �You mean I should climb to the top of my palm tree and look at the sprinkler?�

The raven shrugged. �I would, if I were you.�

�What the heck.  I�ll give it a try.  Nothing else is working.�  So, disgusting fur and all, I climbed back up the tree. 

�What do you see?� asked the raven. He had flown up and was casually perched on a telephone wire close to the tree.

I sighed.  �I see the sprinkler moving back and forth spraying water all over the yard.
Exactly what I seen before skittering through it.�

�Mmm, yes.  Do you see anything there that could use a little tweeking?�
�Nope, just the water moving back and forth � oh!  It�s moving back and forth so that means��

�It means that as you run through it, you are missing most of the water. So what do you think you should do now?�

�Stop the sprinkler from moving?�

�And how will you do that?  Look closely,� the raven advised.

I looked carefully. Wait! What was that?  A little tab that locked the sprinkler so that it spread the water in only one place without moving.  That�s the ticket!  

�I�ll flip the switch and I get a nice steady shower.  Is that it?�

The raven nodded approvingly.  �Now if you hadn�t gotten a clear overview of the situation you wouldn�t have seen what to do.  Am I right?�

What could I say?  He was right. So I climbed down from the tree and located the lco on the sprinkler. I took a moment and planned my angle of attack, skittered across the sprinkler itself, flipped the switch and locked it in place. I just stood there letting water pour all over me. Grosssssss!

Then it happened.

I saw Mrs. B�s sister and her dopey dog walking up the driveway very slowly.  Almost like they were sneaking up the driveway.  I was going to run over to her to prevent her from knocking on the door and waking Mrs. B up.  But they didn�t go up to the front door; they went around to the back of the house and into the garage. 

Then I heard the car engine start up and saw Mrs. B.�s sister backing the car out! Her stupid dog was hanging all over her and drooling his disgusting drool all over the inside of my nice clean car.  I couldn�t help it!  I let out a piercing yowl.  �Stop it!  That�s not your car!  Put it back!�

�Shut up, Cat,� said the sister while throwing her equally disgusting cigarette out of the window.  The wind caught it and I didn�t have time to notice where it landed. I was too busy running back and forth in front of the car, yowling at the woman driving it.  Not that she cared.  She just lit up another cigarette and kept right on sneaking the car down the driveway. When she got to the road, she roared off, laughing all the way.  

First of all, �Shut up, Cat�??? This is how you talk to a person, even if the person is a cat?  That�s just rude.  But there was no way I could tell her that because she was already halfway down the block and still picking up speed.  A trail of smoke followed her all the way.  I thought you human had a Rule about not taking other peoples� things?

The logical thing to do was to tell Mrs. B what had happened.  I climbed up the date palm to peek in her window to see if she was awake yet.  Uh oh.  She was still sound asleep. I thought I should go wake her up but she looked so peaceful snoring away, I just didn�t have the heart.  And besides, her thinking is always a little fuzzy when she wakes up.  Maybe it would be best to just let her wake up when she�s ready.

A cool breeze reminded me that I was still wearing a soaky wet fur coat. I�d better dry myself up if I didn�t want to catch cold.  So I began the long process to drying and smoothing right there in the tree.  That way I could also keep an eye on Mrs. B.

Normally I enjoy a good bath.  After all, a tidy cat is a happy cat. But this time I wasn�t enjoying the process.  There was something in the back of my brain that kept nagging at me.  Something I had forgotten to do.  But what?  I stopped to look around a couple of times.  Except for the empty garage, everything seemed purrfectly normal.  But I still couldn�t help feeling that something was wrong.  Very wrong.  

I set my alert sense on automatic and continued my dry cleaning.  Hmmm.  Someone must be barbecuing dinner on the grill tonight.  I could smell the little wisp of smoke stealing into my yard.  Although I can�t stand the smell of cigarettes, I do like a little whiff of barbecue.  Mostly because of the delicious things that come with it.  I figure a little sniff every once in a while�.wait a minute!  Smoke?  At this time of day?  SMOKE????  OH NO!!!! I did as the raven suggested and went to the very top of my tree to get a complete picture of what was going on in the neighborhood.  No one was barbecuing. But there was still the smell of smoke and it was very close. 

Think, Tadwallader, think! Mrs. Bontwissel�s sister had thrown a lighted cigarette out of the car when she left.  

WHERE DID THAT CIGARETTE LAND????  
  
I was down the tree in two seconds flat.  In two more seconds I had run up and down the driveway trying to find that cigarette.  �Calm down,� I told myself.  �It�s time to think.�  

I could smell the smoke even stronger now.  It wasn�t coming from the ground or bushes; it was coming from someplace above me. �Stalk,� I told myself.  �Look at everything carefully.  Look for danger.�  I looked all around me.  Nothing.  I looked above me.  Smoke.  But from where? I ran back to the palm tree and scooted up far enough to see into Mrs. B�s bedroom but I couldn�t see anything.  It was too shadowy in there. 
How could that be?  It was a bright sunny day! That wasn�t shadow; that was smoke!

And it was coming from Mrs. Bonwissel�s bedroom!!!!


CHAPTER TWELVE
SMOKE GETS IN MY EYES AND NOSE AND THROAT AND FUR!

I ran around the house to the front yard, yowling for help as loud as I could.
�Help! Mrs. Bontwissel needs help NNAAAAAAAOOOOWWWWWW!!  Come quick NNAAAAAAAAOOOOOWWWWWWWWW!!!�

At first I thought no one had heard me or, worse, didn�t understand me.  But then Mr. Kreger�s door flew open and he came charging outside.  �What�s that matter, Tad boy?  Are you waiting for the pizza guy? Wait!  What�s that? Smoke?  Why are you�.FIRE!  Fire! Somebody call the fire department!  Call the police! FIRE!!�

I looked over my shoulder.  Oh no!  There were flames licking out of Mrs. B�s bedroom window!

Neighbors began pouring out of their houses.  The pizza guy was so distracted by everyone running around that he ran off the road and right onto Mr. Kreger�s yard.  Mr. K. ran over to him, pushed the pizza out of the delivery�s guy�s hands, grabbed his cell phone and punched in 911.  �Fire Department!  There�s a fire at 27 Westminster Street.
Yes. Mrs. Bontwissel�s house.  What?  I don�t know. Wait, I�ll ask.� He held his hand over the speaker.  �Does anyone know if Mrs. B is at home?  Is she in there?�

�I don�t think so,� it was Ferdie, pedaling his bike filled with newspaper for his route.  �I saw her car heading down the street a few minutes ago.  She was driving real fast! Is her house going to burn up?�

Since the garage door was open and there was no car inside, everyone assumed that Mrs. B. was out.  But she wasn�t.  She wasn�t!  She was alone inside that burning house!

�NNOOOOOOOOO!� I yowled again.  

�No, there�s no one home, but get here fast,� Mr. O. roared into the cell phone.

�NNNOOOOOOOOOO!�  I shrieked again.  But who understands a cat with such a limited vocabulary?

My ears were beginning to tingle � the fire engines were on their way with the sirens going like mad.  I ran to meet them.  The first one out was Fireman LeShawn, the one who had rescued me before.  The one who smells like pizza.  Boy, was I glad to see him! He understands cats.  I ran over to him, leaping and twisting as I did to get his attention.  The fire chief asked again if there was anyone in the house.

�Well, her car is gone, so I don�t think so,� Ferdie said again.

�Thank heaven for that,� the fire chief said. �Okay, fellas, get those hoses over here; some of you head around back.�

�NNOOOOOOO!�  I kept leaping and bouncing off Fireman LeShawn�s legs.  

�Hey, LeShawn, what�s with that cat?  He�s acting like he�s been hurt or scared,� the fire chief said.

Fireman LeShawn picked me up and looked me all over carefully then stared into my eyes.  It was like he was trying to read my mind.  �I don�t think so, Chief.  I know this cat.  He�s not afraid of anything. He is sopping wet but he isn�t hurt.� Fireman LeShawn looked down at me again. �It�s okay, Big Guy, we�ll save your house.� He put me back down gently.  I could have kicked him.  In fact, I did kick him. 

Then I ran up the front steps, turned to look at him, then ran back down and kicked him again.

�Hold it, guys,� Fireman LeShawn said. �We better check.  This cat is really upset about something.�

At last!  Someone who speaks Cat.  I raced back up the steps and into the house as fast as I could.  I could hear Fireman LeShawn�s big feet clumping behind me and the hiss of the hose he was dragging with him.  

I raced into her bedroom, but the bed was flat.  Smoke was all over and made me sneeze about eleven times in a row.  The flickering of the flames made it look as if the furniture was moving.  But I couldn�t see Mrs. Bontwissel. Not anywhere!



				CHAPTER THIRTEEN
			    	A CRY IN THE DARK

I skittered as fast as I could all over the house, peering into every room.  Mrs. B wasn�t in any of them. Had she gotten out?  I was frantic.  I sped back to her bedroom to check again.  Nope!  A shadow at the window caught my eye.  It was a robin flying past.  Probably speeding back to check her nest.  And that reminded me of the lessons I had been taught.  

STOP! I froze right at the door way.  LISTEN! Every muscle in my body strained to support my ears. I heard the fire.  It whispered and rustled as it ate the furniture and even the wallpaper. I could hear the flip, flip of the robin�s wings as she swooped past the window again. And then I heard it!

The tiniest little sound. It wasn�t really a cry or even a whimper.  It was more like a little breath.  But it was enough.  It told me what I needed to know.  Mrs. B was trapped in her closet.  It was up to me to get her out.  But first, I needed a PLAN!

My first instinct was to run down the hall and get Fireman LeShawn.  But there wasn�t time.  My second instinct was to run into that fire and get Mrs. B.
But I had just spent two long hard days learning important life lessons.  And they all boiled down to one main thought: �Don�t be an idiot!� And running into a fire, no matter how much I wanted to, without a PLAN was idiotic.  

The fire was still close to the window so I leaped up onto the top of the bedpost to get an overview of where everything � and everyone! � was.  Okay. Got it!

Who would have ever thought that spending time listening to birds could now mean the difference between life and death for my very favorite person?

I kept listening. I could tell from the sounds she was making that she was hiding at the far end of the closet where all her old party dresses were kept.  Now to plan my approach. 

Of course, the closet was at the farthest corner of the room, near the foot of the bed. I had seen that the floor was covered with bits of burned or burning curtain and piece of the bedposts.  Some of these too were still smoldering.  There was a big piece of wooden bedpost between me and the closet.  I could see it still had glowing embers on it.  The other bedpost was still attached to the bed, but now it was on fire and there was no telling how soon before it, too, crashed to the floor. That would set up a whole new area of sparks and flames.  Bottom line � avoid the floor as much as possible.  

So there was just one more choice: Jump onto the bed, avoid (but watch) the burning bed pole at the end of the bed while keeping an eye on the cherry red embers of the pole on the floor. Get into the closet and force Mrs. B. out into the burning bedroom and drag her out the door to safety.  No problem. NOT!

But how to get myself into and out of the blazing inferno with Mrs. B?  Fireman LeShawn was standing at the bedroom door, his hose over his shoulder.  �Anybody in there?� he yelled.  He kept peering into the room, shielding his eyes from the smoke and heat.  �Say something if you�re here!� he bellowed. It was silent.

Okay.  It was now or never.  I steeled myself for what I had to do and sprang into action.  I ran like lightening to the front door, raced outside and back under the sprinkler. Thank heaven! It was still locked in one position. I stayed under it long enough to get soaky wet again and back into the house.  It was now or never.


				CHAPTER FOURTEEN
   			  HOT STUFF COMING THROUGH!  

I backed myself up into the living room to get plenty of space for a running head start.  I gathered myself together, focused on my plant and launched myself into the most important race of my life.

I skitterd up and over Fireman LeShawn, still standing by the bedroom door. Using his helmet to serve as a launch pad, I leaped into the burning room!
It was a long way from the door to the bed.  I almost despaired of making it and thought I would fall short and into the flames.  But then I remembered what the old pelican had showed me.  I spread myself as wide as I could so I could soar over the burning parts of the rug.  I could feel the intense heat rising up to meet me and I used it! Almost like I had wings. That gave me enough lift to keep me airborne until I could hit the bed. 

Just as I was about to hit the bed, the pole collapsed right across it.  I was going to land right on top of it!  But, wait!  What did the pelicans do?  I did it! Just as was about to hit the bed, I tucked my legs in tight, twisted into a reverse somersault and landed with just the tip of my nose near the fiery pieces!  The rest of my body was fire-free and I got my nose out there in a big hurry.  (It wasn�t until later that I found out that I did lose a couple of important whiskers and a little nearby fur.  They just burned right off and I didn�t even feel it.  At least, not then.)

Okay. Time to Stop.  Listen.  Yes, I could still hear her in there.  I made one more soaring leap and landed right at the closet door.  Using my mighty muscles, I clawed the door open. I could see Mrs. B. huddled up on the floor with her head on her knees and her hands over her ears. Just sitting there and whimpering.

I tugged on a piece of her dress with my teeth, but she never noticed.  I tried a few more times but she never budged. Wait!  I knew how to get her attention.  The trick that never failed.  I rubbed my nose on my cold wet fur then rubbed it against her bare foot.  Then I yowled like I was being burned alive.  Which was something I was trying desperately to avoid.

That did it!  �Taddy?  Is that you?� 

Well, who else would it be, the Easter Bunny?  Of course it was me.

�Oh, Taddy.  Get out of here.  Run away before you die too.� Mrs. B was crying.  I had never seen her cry before.  It was scarier than the fire. But I didn�t have the time to be scared too, I had to get us out of there NAOWWW!!

I started running around her and butting her with my head.  I battered her with my paws. I leaped and bounced, trying to get her to move.  I yowled again but this time because I had put my paw down on a little ember and it hurt!  �YYYYEEEOOOWWWW!� 

�Oh, no! Taddy, are you hurt?� She began to heave herself to her feet.  �Come on Taddy, Mommy will put something on that and fix you right up.  Mommy will take care of you.�  She wouldn�t help herself, but she would help me if I was hurt.  We really love each other.  So I did what I had to do.  When she opened the closet door, I knocked her flat on the ground.


Honestly!  Don�t you humans pay attention when the firemen tell you what to do in a fire?  If I can listen to and learn from birds, surely you can listen to and learn from firemen.  

IF YOU ARE IN A FIRE OR HAVE FIRE ON YOU � 

STOP!  DROP!! AND ROLL!!! 							
FEEL ANY DOORS IN YOUR WAY FOR HEAT!  

CRAWL ON THE GROUND � THAT�S WHERE THE SAFE AIR IS!!

		 

				  CHAPTER FIFTEEN
STOP!  DROP!!   and   ROLL!!!

Mrs. Bontwissel tried to stand up again. �Taddy, you bad cat.  Let Mommy get up.  We have to get out of here.�

No kidding!?! But I had to knock her down again.  At least I pay attention to firemen.  I had to show her three or four more times what to do. I stood up on my hind legs, dropped to the floor and crawled a few feet forward.  Finally she got it!

�Taddy, my precious little lollipop.  I see what you want.  You want me to crawl after you.  Yes, my woofie poo.  I get it.  Here I come.� She stayed on the floor this time and grabbed my tail.  

Flattening myself out, I listened before I took each step.  The bedroom door and safety were about ten feet away.  The bed was on our right but it was completely on fire.  That was the only thing I could see.  The only thing I could hear was the crackle of the fire.  It popped and roared like it was enjoying eating the furniture.  I knew one thing for sure � it was not going to eat me or my Mrs. Bontwissel.
Right front paw forward.
Left front paw comes even.
Hind paws follow.
Check for Mrs. B.
Right front paw forward.
Left front paw comes even.
Right hind paw catches up.
Left hind paw catches up.
Right front paw inches forward
Mrs. B. still holding on tight.

Actually, she kept holding on tighter and tighter.  I guess she was afraid she would lose me in all the smoke and flames so I let her.
Left front paw � HOLD IT!

What was that ahead?  The smoke swirled out of my way for a second and I got a glimpse of some pieces of wood.  They looked okay; just smoldering there.  They should be okay to step on.  But were they safe? I remembered what the rooster had done.  I scratched at the rug under that wood.  The chunks fell apart.  I flipped one into the air.  It landed just by my left hind paw. Sure enough it was still burning! If I hadn�t learned that flip and examine lesson, I would have gotten Mrs. B badly burned!  I edged us closer to the wall, away from those silently burning blue and orange coals. 

I could hear her coughing.  It was partly because of the smoke and partly because we were running out of air.  I hoped she would lie down flatter on the floor but there wasn�t time to tell her.  The room smelled like a million cigarettes burning all at the same time.  The fire was roaring as if in a rage that we might escape it.  Nearly all the furniture was burning and most of the rug was gone.  Flames lashed out at us as we moved.  The fire acted like Rusty the cat, just waiting to pounce on us.  There were only a few more feet of unburned rug and we�d be safe.  If we didn�t run out of air first.  Alllmoossst there.  

Then, in one last attempt to catch us, the bed table collapsed right in front of us. It fell right between us and the door, spreading a river of fire between us and safety! My heart sank.  This was the end.

WHHOOOSSSSHHHHH!!!  A stream of water! A river of water!!  An ocean of water!!!  It was Fireman LeShawn to the rescue!  Water was pouring in from the window, all over the floor and us.  The fire hated it!  I could hear it rage and tear, trying to destroy everything it could before it was destroyed itself. The fire lost the battle. 

Bless you, Fireman LeShawn!!
																												CHAPTER SIXTEEN
SPLISH! SPLASH! I AM FORCED TO TAKE A BATH! AGAIN!!

I could hear Fireman LeShawn shouting at me from outside my window. �Go for it, Tadwallader.  I�ve got you covered.�  He squirted the stream of water all over us and directly in front of me, making a path for us to follow to the door.

Burning rug and furniture hissed and steamed as the water fell on them. I heard the bed cave in as the weight of the water became too much for it.  But, since it had already been pretty much all eaten by the fire, it didn�t really matter.  

�Follow the water, Tad,� LeShawn shouted. He trained that hose so that all we had to do was let it lead us to safety.  I twitched my tail to make sure Mrs. B was still with me.  I couldn�t move it so I knew she as still holding on.  Then as quickly as it had come, the water disappeared!  I squinted through the smoke to try to find it but the column of water was gone.

I looked around in a daze trying to figure out what had happened and what to do next.  I tried not to panic.  Just when I was about to lose it, the water was back. But this time, instead of leading us, it was at our backs and shoving us.  It shoved me so hard I thudded into the front door.  I leaped up, shook myself but realized Mrs. B was no longer holding on to my tail!

Oh, no!  I had failed to save her! I had lost Mrs. B in the fire!
	


CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
MY MOTHER DID NOT RAISE ME TO BE A CRISPY CRITTER	

�Here she is, guys!� someone shouted.  Two big firemen picked Mrs. B. up from the bedroom door where the water has washed her.  They carried her outside to a waiting ambulance, put her on a rolling bed and pushed her right inside.  I had barely dragged myself to the door to see all this when two huge arms wrapped themselves around me and swooped me up into the air.  He took me to the ambulance too.

�Pretty smart of you to use the fire hose to wash the victims to safety,� The Fire Chief was patting Fireman LeShawn on the back.  �There�s going to be a medal in this for you, old man.�

�If anyone deserves a medal, it�s this magnificent little guy right here.� He set me gently on the ground for everyone to admire me. 

Mrs. Bontwissel sat up on the bed in the ambulance and pushed aside the oxygen mask she had been made to wear.   She had some bandages on her arms and her hair was frizzier than usual but she looked okay.  �That�s my cat, Tadwallader!� She announced proudly.  �He saved my life!  He ran right into the fire and pulled me out.  He�s a hero!  That�s what he is, a hero!�  Everyone there begain to clap.

I was about to take a bow when I guess everything hit me all at once.  I felt like I did when I knew I had to upchuckle that beetle.  And I was even dizzier than I would get racing up and down the date palm thirty times! I fell right over on my side and couldn�t stand up.  It was very embarrassing. I immediately curled up into nap position and tried to lift my head so that people would think I meant to fall over like that on purpose.  The ambulance people knew better.

�Uh oh.  Feline down! He�s in trouble!� One of them shouted. Fireman LeShawn ran over to the big oxygen tank on the ambulance and grabbed the cup thing like the one Mrs. B had been using.  He placed it over my face and suddenly it was a lot easier to breathe.  

�There you go, big fella.  You just got yourself a snootful of smoke.  We�ll just keep this oxygen mask on you for ten minutes or so and you�ll be right as rain.�  
The word �rain� made me shudder.  Please! No more water! 

�Hey, look!� said the other ambulance guy. �The poor little guy got burned.�
So that�s what that feeling was.  As my head cleared from breathing nice smoke-free oxygen, I began to realize that I was in pain. A whole lot of pain.  A terrible thought hit me.  If I was in this much pain, what must Mrs. B feeling?

I leaped to my feet and, in another leap, was at her side in the ambulance.  But the ambulance guy picked me back up before I could check her over. �No, no, fella.  She�s okay.  A little scared and a lot wet, but she�s fine. Thanks to you, of course. You blocked those falling embers so that they didn�t hit her. What a guy!�

Mrs. B. whipped her oxygen mask off again.  �Please help him!  He saved my life!  I can�t stand the idea that he�s in pain because of me.  Oh, how could I have been so stupid?  I must have left the stove on.  Oh, Taddy, can you ever forgive me?�

Do you believe that?!?! She thought the fire had been her fault.  I struggled to get free of the ambulance guy but he wasn�t about to let me go.  �Just stay quiet there, buddy.  We�re going to fix you right up.�  He held me lightly but there was no way I was going to get loose.  Then he began smearing some sort of glop all over my fur.  Especially the sore areas.  I could see this stuff was going to take me weeks to lick off.

He must have read my mind. �Don�t you go licking this stuff, Tad.  That�s medicine. It�s going to make you feel a lot better.�

While my first instinct was to lick it off right away, I realized that in just a few seconds, I really did feel better.  At least I did until I got a look at myself in the reflection of a hubcap.  OMIGOSH!!!  Was that me? OMIGOSH! IT IS ME!   

There were three or four burned patches in my fur.  One of my ears looked like it had been chewed.  And at least three of my best, longest whiskers were gone.  I had no recollection of any of this happening. In fact, I had thought that I had come out of the fire without a mark on me.  Boy, was I wrong!

�Take it easy, now, Tad,� said LeShawn.  �I know it looks awful now, but it will grow back and you will look more magnificent than ever! You�ll have a couple of scars, I think, but the ladies love that.  And the guys will be jealous of your bravery.  You got made in the shade, big guy. And besides having the most important fur coat in town, you be the most important cat in town.  A hero!! The greatest hero this town has ever known!�

Well now.

Ferdie, who should have been delivering his newspaper all this time, had decided to stay and watch all the excitement instead.  He reached into his newspaper bag from where he had dropped it on Mr. Kreger�s front yard and whipped out his camera.  He walked across the street to the ambulance, snapping pictures all the way.  A blast from a car horn made him � all of us � leap about four feet straight up.  

�Why that�s my car!� Mrs. B. wriggled free of her oxygen mask yet again and sat up again.  Mrs. B�s sister pulled the car into the driveway and got out.  Her stupid dog jumped out right behind her and began to piddle on every bush in sight.  Right in front of everyone!  What a doofus!


				CHAPTER 18
     MRS. BONTWISSEL�S SISTER FEELS THE BURN	

Mrs. Bontwissel�s sister acted like she didn�t even notice the fire trucks or ambulance or the crowds of people standing around. As she exited the car, she threw her cigarette onto the driveway.  Everyone�s eyes followed it as it rolled � right under Mrs. B�s window.  Just like the last one had.

�Sister, I declare.  What in the world is going on?  What have you done this time?� she demanded.

For a minute, everyone was absolutely silent.  I couldn�t tell if they were being polite and letting Mrs. B defend herself or if they were as stunned as I was by the woman�s nerve.

The Fire Chief broke the silence.  �Is that your car, ma�am?� he asked.

�Of course it isn�t my car.  And what business is it of yours?�

The Fire Chief�s voice was polite, but even so, you could tell he was extremely angry.  �Did you remove that car from the garage earlier today?�
 
�Well, obviously I did,� she snapped back at him. �What on earth is going on here? 

�Were you smoking a cigarette at the time?�

I could tell he was beginning to make her nervous. �I don�t know.  Probably. What does that matter?�  She began to look around her.  �Why are all you people�oh!� She finally realized that there was still smoke coming out of the front door and that the bedroom window was all burned out.

�Are you trying to tell me that you think I caused this?� She sounded scared.

�It looks like it.  That�s for the police to decide.� The Fire Chief responded.

�Police?� she shrieked. �What do the police have to do with this?�

�For one thing,� supplied Mrs. B. in a voice I had never heard her use before, �your habit of taking things that don�t belong to you.�

Wow! I even forgot to take the oxygen mask off to get a better look at her face but I was too fascinated by this new Mrs. B. So she did know about her sister taking stuff.  You go, girl.

The Fire Chief nodded.  �And I guess they will want you to talk to you and your insurance people about how you intend to pay for all this destruction.  Not to mention paying for our time and equipment.� He turned away from her horrified face and gave me a wink.  Of course, she didn�t have to pay the fire department.  I think he just said that to make her understand how much trouble she had caused.  I snorted into my oxygen mask.  Good one, Chief.

�Me? I have to pay for this?� her voice was as wobbly as I was beginning to feel again.  

How delicious.  All the money she had made when she stole Mrs. B�s stuff and sold it, she would have to use to fix up the house again.  Too bad there wasn�t a way to make the dog spend his allowance too.

As wonderful as this all sounded, it didn�t stop me from feeling all woozy again.  I laid down before I fell down and closed my eyes to keep the world from spinning so fast. Fireman LeShawn let out a yell to the ambulance guys.  �Come quick!  He�s in trouble again!� 

I closed my eyes.  The dizziness was making me feel sick again.  I could hear them talking about me, but I was too sick and dizzy to care.

�He�s in shock.  He�s lost a lot of fur and needs to get his blood levels right again.�

�So do it,� ordered LeShawn as he held the oxygen cup over my face again.  

�I would, but I�m not a vet.  I don�t know how much salt to give him safely.�

The crowd was gathering around me.  �Is anyone here a vet?� LeShawn called.  There were no answers.  It seemed like everyone was getting smaller and smaller and darker and darker.  I felt like I was falling down a dark hole and bouncing from side to side. 

�Why?  What�s wrong with him?� Ferdie demanded. He had dropped his camera and was kneeling next to me, stroking my head.  It felt good.  Mr. Kreger was standing next to him.  

�He needs a transfusion of saline solution � salt water,� said Mr. Kreger.  �But the closest vet is twenty miles away. However, I have an idea.� He whispered something in Ferdie�s ear.  Ferdie nodded and took off like a rocket. He was back in a flash, dragging the pizza guy � and my favorite kind of box � with him.

�While I�m not a vet,� Mr. Kreger said, �I sure know a lot about animals.�

�Okay, but what does the pizza guy have to do with this?� Fireman LeShawn asked.

�Just you wait and see.� I could tell from his voice that Mr. Kreger was smiling.
   
The ambulance men just stood there, staring at Mr. Kreger in complete amazement.  Of course, the two mice peeking out of Mr. Kreger�s pocket might have had something to do with it.  Mr. K. wasn�t happy unless he was surrounded by animals.

Wait a minute.  What was that smell?  As dizzy as I was, there was nothing wrong with my nose. I knew that smell and I loved it!  

Sniff? Pizza!  Sniffff! Pizza with cheese??  Snnnniifffff? Pizza with cheese and yes! Double anchovies!!!

I gathered enough strength to open my eyes.  There was a Smokin� Joe�s pizza box right next to me.  And Ferdie had pulled out a large slice and was offering it to me.  I began to feel better immediately.

�Well, you said you needed to get salt into Tad and we just had a large anchovy pizza delivered.  There you go � all the salt he wants.  If we can get him to eat it.�  Now Mr. K was laughing.  We understood each other.

Anchovies?  Do I want to eat pizza with anchovies? Does Santa want to deliver presents?  I�d come from the dark side of the moon for an anchovy pizza.  And this had double the anchovies! I was on it!

�Hey, look!  He�s sitting up. I think he�s coming around.�   Ferdie broke off a large chunk with plenty anchovies on it and offered it to me. �Here you go, hero.  Eat this.  It�s good for you.�

I gave him a sharp look.  I mean his hands were grubby from handling newspapers all day.  I don�t eat pizza from grubby little paws.

�Really,� he urged.  �Eat this.�

He had that right. I jumped to my feet and jumped on top of the pizza.  I started from the middle and kept right on going. Best of all, the more I ate, the better I felt.

Purrrfect.



				CHAPTER 19 
PRESENTING THE INCREDIBLE,  MAGNIFICENT,  HIGH-FLYING,  PIZZA LOVING**,  FIRE TRUCK RIDING  ME!!

Well, you know what happened after that. There was a big parade though town and I was the Grand Marshal. There we were, the three of us riding in the cherry picker:  Fireman LeShawn, wearing his shiny gold medal saying �Fireman of the Year,� me with my shiny gold medal that said �Firecat of the Year,� and Ferdie.  I�m not sure how he managed to get in to ride with us, but he did.  Maybe we can get him a medal that says �Pizza Feeder of the Year.�

It was wonderful.  You can see everything and everyone from the top of the cherry picker.

Then Mayor Obernester himself gave me another medal that said �Hero for Life!� written on it.  And there were all kinds of newspaper and reporters and photographers there taking my picture and writing that crazy story about me. 

Mrs. Bontwissel got a whole new bedroom with new furniture and rugs and wallpaper.  And her sister had to pay for everything.  The police and insurance company were really mad at her, but it probably won�t change her much.

But the best part � the very best part � aside from Mrs. B being safe and sound � was the reward I got from the pizza store.  Smokin� Joe himself, the president of the company, had seen my story in the papers.  He especially loved the photo of my eating their pizza.  He said he loved it so much that he wanted to hire me as their spokes-cat for their pizzas.

So now I have a job.  I am the happy spokes-cat for the Smokin� Hot Pizza Company.  They pay me to eat anchovy pizza while they take pictures of me. I get an anchovy pizza a week for pay and Mrs. B gets one hundred dollars a week for taking care of me.  How about that?!?!?

I guess it�s time to ask what have I learned from all of this?  Well, none of this would have happened if it hadn�t been for the great lessons my bird friends gave me.  Or if I hadn�t been willing to listen and practice and use what they had taught me.  Those moves I learned saved my life and Mrs. Bontwissel�s life.  But even so�.I never wanted to be a bird because I am -

TADWALLADER:
	THE MAGNIFICENT
	THE INCREDIBLE
	THE HIGH-FLYING
	PIZZA LOVING* 
	FIRE TRUCK RIDING
	CAT!!
*with TRIPLE anchovies.







					##











































































 


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