Sasha, a kitten in water | Sneak-peek |


We get cat-napped





Me and Waffle were taken from our alley at a very young age. I don’t remember how old we were, but I knew that we were very young. Since I was born first, I was the older sister.

Waffle was sometimes very annoying, and would always get my bed wet by splashing water over it, but most of the times, we would play soccer with the chewed up rubber ball that I had found in the dumpster.  I think it used to be a mutilated ball of a dog, because there was still slobber all over it. When it got too hot in the summer, me, my mom, and Waffle would seek refuge under the stinking Dumpster that we living in. If it got to hot, the baker next door would take us inside his air-conditioned bakery and feed us cold water and cat-food. I really like that baker. He was so nice and gentle to us, and never yelled at us if we did something wrong. And then there was the butcher, who in the winter, would throw buckets of freezing cold water on us to get us to stop living in “his” alleyway. At least that’s what he said.

In the winter, when it snowed, my mom would have to go hunting out in the soccer field where all the boys and girls played baseball after school. It was a huge park, and so big, the mower that came by every week had to do half of it in one day, and the other half the other day. That made the grass very tall, and small rodents that we could eat hide inside of the grass.

Sometimes, if my mom came hunting too late, the kids would torment her by throwing dirty socks and shoes at her, but my mom would just ignore them and hunt. If they ever tried to pick her up, my mom would spring into action. She would scratch so hard that the kid would fly backward and hit his or her butt on the grass. I knew that from experience, because one time, she brought us hunting, and when the kids came out, it was a total riot. Kids were screaming and running around like there was a zombie invasion or something. I’m very obsessed with zombies and you can see in the later chapters. When we got home, my mom had three birds hanging from her mouth, and they were still warm when we ate them.

It was starting to turn winter. I could feel the frozen water drops hanging in the air one morning as I walked out of the dumpster to see if it had snowed. It hadn’t snowed, but the ground was covered in a cold layer of hail. The hail was about five inches thick, and I could have easily dug a small hole and buried the rubber ball that me and Waffle play with.

Soon, morning had turned into day, and it was still below freezing. The bakery had opened, and I could see the smoke from the bread ovens float into the air. I started meowing and scratching the back door, until the kind baker came out and took us all inside. If you want to see how kind they were, just keep on reading. The bakery was overflowing with people of all sizes. They all seemed to want the doughnuts that were 50% off. Outside the bakery, the cold winter air made the glass foggy, and made it hard to see outside. I could hear the busy traffic outside the glass roaring like a lion.

The baker’s wife, who had curly black hair and pieces of bread for earrings, warmed up some milk made for kittens in the microwave and set it down on the floor. My mom drank half of the milk, and left a little bit for me and Waffle to share. Then the baker mixed some tuna fish with dry cat food and gave it to us, and it was gone in seconds.


With my belly full of milk and tuna fish, I felt very sleepy. It was probably the warm milk affect, which made people very sleepy.   I saw a book on a desk in the corner, and when the baker’s wife had left to help bake the bread, I jumped onto the desk and started reading the front cover. “Garfield blocks out the sun,” It read. There was a color picture of an orange cat almost as big as a tree sitting in front of the sun. I starting flipping through the pages, and the comics were so funny, I almost snorted milk through my nose.

When I was done reading the book, I put it back and went to see how many people were in the bakery. I looked through the glass display case, and saw a woman leaving. No one was in the bakery, and the whole store looked sold out. Behind the counter, the baker and his wife were excitedly counted huge stacks of bills on the counter. Had they made that much money? “Five hundred, six hundred and one…” the baker’s hand trembled and he dropped a dollar. “We have to get more flour and frosting for the doughnuts,” the wife told the baker. “You can do that,” the baker riffled through the six-hundred dollars, and slid out a couple hundred dollars, handing it to his wife, who held the money as if it was a diamond. She put on a coat, because it had just started hailing hard again, and walked out the door, stuffing the cash in her pocket.

The baker sighed and wiped sweat from his forehead. It really was hot in here, from the ovens and all the mixing equipment that the baker used to make doughnuts, cakes, and loafs of breads.



The day had turned to night, and when the baker’s wife came come back, the truck of their truck crammed with even more ingredients, the baker let us back outside in our alley. It was freezing cold, but the baker was so kind, he even gave us blankets to sleep in!

Me, Waffle, and my Mom curled up in the open, because under the Dumpster was even colder than outside.

Just then, the back door to the butcher’s store opened, and the ugly crab stuck his head out of the door, his pincers foaming just like a real crab.

“Get off of meh doorstep!” He yelled. He never corrected his grammar, so the butcher spoke really weird.  The butcher had a bad habit of treating us like dirt, and even dirt was scared of the butcher! “No, he better not do it!” I muttered to myself. But he did. The butcher held a bucket of cold water in his right hand, and dumped it right on top of us. “Stop!!” My Mom screamed, jumped out of the soaking wet blanket, and attacked the cruel man. He screamed like a real baby, and showed his real skin.  Me and Waffle stood shivering in the wet blanket as my Mom viciously scratched the butcher, and the butcher ran back inside calling for his mommy. Those puny humans thought they were better than poor, homeless kittens. I hated humans, except the baker and his wife. I shook off the cold water, and licked my fur down. The blanket was useless now, thanks to the grumpy old butcher.

My mom licked off Waffle, and we crept back under the Dumpster, colder than ever, because of the mean old Butcher.

That night, for dinner, all we had was some rations of scraps of some mice Waffle was playing with in the morning. I had told her to stop playing with our dinner, but she didn’t listen. So now all we had to eat was one mouse, and the bones of another, which wasn’t very satisfying.

One day, when it started getting even colder, (Below freezing) a metal box suddenly appeared in the alley. I also noticed that a can of warm tuna was also set in the box. What was very unusual about it was that the box wasn’t made out of cardboard; It looked shiny and had spaces where there was no metal. Also, the tuna-fish was always warm, as if there was a small stove under it. The same night, when my mom was out hunting, me and Waffle wandered out of the Dumpster and to the smell of the delicious food. We were both starving, and I could easily count each of my rib bones.

I knew that we shouldn’t have come out, because our mom told us not to, but the food just sitting there was too much to take.

As I came out of the garbage heap, a bitter wind sliced across my face, and I jumped back. With Waffle behind me, we trudged across the Dumpster and onto the deserted alley-way.

A lamp flickered on by the road, and I could see shadows flicker all over the place. It was really creepy. The street outside the alley was almost as deserted as this alley, and about every minute, a car passed by, and spooked me out with the headlights.

We reached the metal box, and I went inside. I heard a creaking sound from inside the box, but ignored it. I started gobbling down the food, and Waffle came inside with me.

We both devoured the delicious tuna fish, but I was still hungry. Two days without food was enough to make someone hungry enough to eat a table of food. Suddenly, as quick as lightning, the cage door that was hinged to the roof slammed closed, and shut on Waffle tail, which was sticking out of the cage. The sound of the door closing was so loud. She yowled in pain, and I helped her yank her tail out of the door. My mom came flying over the Dumpster to meet us. She saw us in the cage and dropped the two dead mice she was holding.

Then came another surprise; A man leaped out of a broken window in the butcher’s shop and grabbed the cage with us in it. I tried desperately to open the door, but it was no use. The cage jerked forward and I hit my head on the metal bars, for a hundredth time in my life, and stars floated over my head.  I guess I’m very hard-headed!

The man raced into the street and kept running until he reached the empty parking lot that the circus used to rent. In the summer, a huge fair would be built, and about a month later, it would open. Me, Waffle, and my mom would comb the grass, eating stray pieces of kettle corn, cotton candy, peanuts, and other delicacies which were hidden in the tall grass. I was jarred back to reality as we were put in the trunk of a heated van, and the man got in the front seat, driving away.



The next day, I found myself in an even bigger cage. There was a warm straw floor, and a piece of cloth that was hanging from the metal ceiling. I wondered where Waffle was sleeping. Then, I saw her sleeping in the cloth that was hanging from the ceiling. I really wanted to kill that man who had stolen us from our mom. He had absolutely no right to take us like that! It was very cold in the building, but the straw floor made my feet really warm. I checked out my surroundings. To my left, there was a huge grey fat cat. To my right, there were two dogs. I started talking to the fat, grey cat named Santa. Santa said that me and Waffle had been caught by the Animal Shelter. I looked down out of the cage and saw that me and Waffle were about five feet off the ground. I leaned even more forward, and I could see that we were stacked on top of a bunch of cages. Each cage had about two animals in it. I craned my head all around the room, and saw that all of the walls were lined with cages. Had all of these poor animals been captured by the animal shelter? That gave me a huge boost of energy, and I didn’t know why. I scooted forward, and looked out of cage door again, and suddenly, the cage tilted forward and moved about an inch toward the opposite wall. Just then, I had a very brilliant idea. “Waffle!” I hissed at the soft lump in the hammock.

I saw her tail twitch, but she kept on sleeping. I backed up, and hurled myself at the cage door. The cage made a rattling sound so loud, that the receptionist at the front desk looked over to see what had happened. Santa was still asleep. I bet his snores could’ve been heard from Pluto. The cage lurched forward about two inches, and Waffle sprang to life. I bet she hadn’t even been sleeping after all.

When Waffle walked over to me, the part of the cage that was not touching the cage below me started sinking, and the side that Waffle was on started rising, just like a lever, but in a cage. “Get back!” I warned Waffle, and I backed up again to slam into the cage door. But before I did, I took a drink of water and mouthful of dry cat food from the bowls in the corner, so if we escaped, it would be on a full stomach.

Then, with Waffle watching me with eyes as big as quarters, I ran at the cage door like a foot-ball player would run across a foot-ball field.

I knew that as soon as I made the cage move even a mere inch, we would come crashing to the ground. But what I didn’t know was how much I could make the cage move. The cage fell off the cage below us, and it kept on moving forward. It seemed like everything was in slow-motion. I was rising into the air as if I was in space. Waffle was clinging to the cage floor like a blade of grass on dirt. Then, and fast as lightning, we collided with the ground.

The rattling in my ears took a very long time to fade away, but I recovered from it very quickly. As soon as we hit the ground, I was prepared to bolt out of the open cage door. I dragged Waffle from the straw floor and out the cage door. I stopped dragging Waffle when we reached Santa’s cage, and she started running behind me. The receptionist was already investigating the cage, but me and Waffle were already long gone. I turned a corner and caught my breath. Waffle appeared right beside me and started panting. At the end of the hall, I could see a wooden door with a glass panel in the middle.

That must be the front door. I started trotting toward it, and Waffle followed me as best she could. I reached the wooden door and pawed at it. Great. It was locked. The Animal Shelter wasn’t even open, so me and Waffle couldn’t get out. There was a cat flap in the door, and I tried to get through it, but it seemed to be locked. The receptionist was going to catch us. I knew it. I heard her steps echoing in the hall. She rounded the corner and I saw the lady with a half-smiling, half-angry face.

A second later, two more doctors came into view. They were wearing completely white uniforms and one even had a blue face mask. I backed up, and when I bumped against the wooden door, realized that we were cornered. I hated being cornered. You would have to rely on the enemy being merciful, and the receptionist wasn’t even close.





One of the doctors reached for Waffle, but she was prepared and intercepted the doctor with a fury of scratches and bites to the hand. The doctor leapt back, surprised, and Waffle darted between his legs. Come on, Waffle, I thought. Why would she just leave me here? The receptionist grabbed me, but I scratched her hand until it looked like a zombie arm. I wasn’t going down without a fight. The receptionist screamed and fell down, overpowered.

The second doctor, who hadn’t already been scratched or bitten, slipped on leather gloves, and snatched me. I yowled and scratched, but my claws just stuck to the leather. I raised my paws in surrender, and hoped that Waffle had escaped. But she hadn’t. I saw a third doctor carrying her with a cone around her neck and some kind of handcuffs on her paws. We were carried to our cage, and the cage door was still swinging open and shut. The receptionist, with a bunch of bandages on her hand, limped over to the cage and lifted it up.

The food and water bowl spilled into her shoe. It was thick and mushy, because the food had mixed with water. I laughed to myself, because the receptionist was so mean to us sometimes, and now she just got paid back by a couple of cats. The receptionist gritted her teeth, and slowly lifted the cage back into its place before.  Then she again limped off to the bathroom, where I could hear the sink running and the receptionist muttering insults at us.  We were put back into our cage jail, and the three doctors left. The receptionist limped out of the bathroom, and I giggled. She was holding her soaking wet sneakers on her hands. Her bare feet made her look like a homeless person who had just barely survived a zombie apocalypse. Then she walked out of the front door (after she had muttered her last insult at us) and drove away.

Maybe the next receptionist would be nicer? About five minutes later, a cranky old janitor came by and cleaned up the mess that we had made, giving us dirty looks each time his mopped the floor. I huddled in the felt bed to watch him clean, which was like watching a circus. Every time the man bent down, he cursed under his breath, and I heard a cracking sound coming from his back.

This was so funny!

As soon as he had left, the whole Animal Shelter erupted in laughter. Even me and Waffle laughed. Berow the Chihuahua and Otis the bull-dog congratulated me on scratching up the receptionist, who had been mean to all of the animals since she had started working there.

Santa was asleep though, so he was the only one who didn’t thank me for ridding the Animal Shelter of the mean receptionist. I started looking around the whole Animal Shelter, which was hard, because I was trapped in a cage, but I managed to do it anyway. There was a huge sunlight right above my head, and it warmed me up a lot, so I lay down in the path of the sunlight and sun bathed, even though I wasn’t outside. So after I took a little cat-nap, and don’t ask me why puny humans call it a cat-nap, I started looking around again.

The room where the fish and birds stayed had a little window that I could see into the room with, and when I saw how spacious the cages and fish tanks where, I was so jealous. How come they get so big cages?

I almost wanted to break out of this cramped cage and steal a cage to live in from the room, but I knew that I was going to be caught again, and probably be tied to a chain on a ball, and from my experience with reading princess and prince books, I knew how much the prince would be in pain when he got chained to one and thrown in the dungeon.

So I calmed myself down.

I read a sign on the front door that said: Hokens Animal Shelter. I remembered this placed! This was the same place where my mom had been adopted from! She had taken us here about a month ago to show us how to escape and how not to get caught. But I forgot how too. Typical. I wondered which cage she used to live in.  An hour later, when the laughter had settled down a lot, Hokens Animal Shelter opened.

Me and Waffle hid behind the felt bed as a bunch of school-kids streamed in through the front door, and immediately went to the cats and dogs. A three-year-old tormented Otis while a dark-haired kid threw peanuts at Santa. Luckily, a new receptionist came from the doctor’s office and stopped the preschoolers from torturing them further.  The teachers at the back and front of the line scolded them severely and led them off to the room where the birds and fish lived. I wish I were a bird. I could fly gracefully in the air and never touch the ground. Five minutes later, I saw the school-group come out of the bird and fish room and leave the animal shelter.

I started talking to Santa, who said that he had been in the animal shelter for about two years. “What?!” I was terrified. Would I have to stay in the animal shelter for that long? “Yeah, no one wants to adopt me because I eat too much,” And then Santa told me his story:

“Well, I used to live in a huge mansion by the sea—” “What??!!” I interrupted him and was really surprised. Santa? Live in a mansion. “Be quiet and just listen. Yeah. So I used to live in a mansion by the sea, and there was this really spoiled boy who always fed me too much.” No wonder Santa was so big. He could hardly fit in his hammock, much less the felt bed that lay underneath it. “And every Saturday, he would dunk me in his soapy Jacuzzi and soak me with water.” Santa shivered, as if he was being dunked into the Jacuzzi again. “So one day, when his family went out shopping, a burglar, I forgot his name, stole a bunch of solid gold bars from the mansion, and nicked me from my cat house.


Then he drove away, and I guess he got tired of feeding me his food, because the animal shelter found me crammed in a garbage can two days later, so that’s how I ended up here!” Santa finished licking his long, grey fur, and ate his food. “Wow,” That was a really, weird story. Waffle yawned and jumped into her hammock.

Waffle really loved that hammock! I rolled around in the straw and batted a spring toy that was sticking out of the ground. I saw Otis playing with Berow in the tunnel that he had dug out the night before. Berow tagged Otis and wiggled into the hole. I was surprised Otis could even fit in there; He was even bigger than Santa. Berow burrowed through the straw like a mole, and made a new tunnel that went straight underneath his bed, which collapsed without enough straw to hold it up.



Just then, the door opened. A warm breeze almost made me want to jump out of the cage. I really wanted to get outside. The air-conditioning in the animal shelter was just too cold for me.


A boy about four or five walked into, holding hands with his mother. The boy was really short, and was coincidentally wearing shorts and a T-shirt. That almost made me laugh. The mother walked up to the receptionist’s desk and started asking her questions, while the boy explored the cages. “Do you have the adoption form?” she asked. “Here you go.” The mother was handed a stack of papers about as thick as a phone book, and walked over to the blue chair in the corner of the hallway and started writing all over it.

I heard the scratching of the pen on paper. Me and Waffle watched curiously as the boy poked Berow in the belly and laughed. Santa looked startled and stopped eating his food. “What is it?” I asked Santa. “Nothing,” He choked up a hair-ball. “Eww!” I turned away before I could see what it looked like, but Waffle was already sniffing it from our side of the cage. I could smell the disgusting smell from over two feet away.

Berow looked like he wanted to bolt out of his cage, but the boy stuck his hands into the cage and started petting him.  The boy’s mom finished writing on the sheets of paper, and handed them to the receptionist. She smiled, and showed her crooked yellow teeth.


The boy adopted Berow, and Otis looked sad, now that his friend was going to be adopted. The receptionist walked over to the end of the hall, and I thought that she was going to get the doctors, but instead reached into a metal box and brought out a flat piece of cardboard. Then, like magic, she folded it a couple of times, and it turned into a miniature house! Berow backed away when the receptionist came over to his cage, but the receptionist just smiled, and I could smell her stinky breath from even two cages away.


I almost fainted. She scooped Berow into the cardboard box, who tried desperately to escape, but the receptionist closed the top and handed it to the boy. She had a malicious grin on her face, as if this were her specialty: Being cruel to cats and dogs. I almost wanted to have the other receptionist here instead of this one.

He jumped up and down, and almost dropped the box with Berow in it, but his mom took it away, and handed a bunch of crumped dollar bills to the receptionist. Otis looked very sad, now that his friend was adopted. All of the animals in their cages waved at Berow, and his little faced poked out from one of the little windows in the box. I even started waving to Berow, but stopped when the boy’s mom looked at the receptionist like: Why are those cats and dogs waving at us? They departed, leaving the whole animal shelter silent, except for Otis’s whimpers, because he was already missing his friend,

I crawled into the felt bed below the hammock, which was still wet from when Waffle splashed water on it this morning, and fell asleep.





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