Free The Crabby Cat Caper by Beverly Lewis Page A

kept quiet at the meeting.
    And there was Croaker to think about.
    She’d asked Jason to keep his bullfrog home. “Don’t frogs need to be in water?”
    At first, Jason argued. “You’re just saying that because you don’t want Mister Whiskers to have a hissy fit.”
    â€œYou’re right,” she said. “So please keep your frog at home!”
    Jason had pouted.
    But Dee Dee won him over. “I’ll make some cookies.”
    â€œMy favorite?” Jason asked.
    Jason wasn’t supposed to eat chocolate. It wound him up. But carobchip cookies tasted a lot like chocolate chip cookies.
    â€œI’ll bring them to school on Monday,” Dee Dee said.
    So it was settled.
    Mister Whiskers could attend the carnival purr fectly happy. And Croaker would stay home in his aquarium.
    Where he belongs , thought Dee Dee.
    She stood up and looked out the window. From her bedroom, she could see Blossom Hill School. Jason’s father and some other men were working. They were building the booths for the carnival.
    â€œI can’t wait till Monday,” Dee Dee said. “The carnival will be so much fun!”
    She turned to look at her cat.
    But Mister Whiskers was gone.
    â€œWhere’d you go?” Dee Dee said.
    She searched under her bed. It was Mister Whiskers’ favorite hiding spot. “Here kitty, kitty,” she called.
    No cat.
    She ran downstairs to the kitchen.
    Maybe he’s hungry , she thought.
    But Mister Whiskers wasn’t eating from his dish. He wasn’t drinking milk from his bowl, either.
    â€œWhere are you?” she cried.
    She checked under the telephone table. Sometimes he sat on the phone book.
    Today, he wasn’t there.
    She searched all the windowsills. Mostly the ones with potted plants.
    No Mister Whiskers.
    Where could he be? she thought.
    Then she had an idea.
    Maybe he’d gotten out. He liked to run loose in the cul-de-sac. He was always running away.
    The back screen door hung open sometimes. It had to be tugged hard to give it a snug fit.
    Eagerly, Dee Dee checked the front and back doors. They were shut tight. There was no way for Mister Whiskers to escape. Not today.

    Dee Dee was stumped. Her cat had tricked her.
    â€œYou’ll be sorry!” she hollered up the steps. “You won’t get your afternoon cookie.”
    She sat down on the living room floor.
    Under her breath, she counted. “One . . . two . . . three . . . four . . .”
    Before she got to five, Mister Whiskers came. He padded down the steps, looking shy. A little uneasy, too.
    Dee Dee saw bits of paper around his mouth. “What have you been doing?” she said.
    Meow. Mister Whiskers stared at her with his sly yellow-orange eyes. Slowly, he blinked.
    â€œCome here, you!” She picked the pieces out of his whiskers.
    Finally, all the bits of paper were in the trash.
    Dee Dee remembered the way her cat had blinked at her. Something else had eyes like that. Well, sort of.
    Croaker, Jason’s bullfrog, had tricky eyes, too.
    â€œYou stay right here.” Dee Dee wagged her finger in his furry face. “Don’t you dare move!”
    She ran upstairs. She ran so fast, her hair bow fell off.
    Dee Dee was determined. She was going to find out what trouble Mister Whiskers was up to.
    Right now!

THREE
    Dee Dee scurried to her bedroom. Slowly she scanned the room with her eyes.
    Then she spotted it. Plain as day.
    There, on the floor, were pieces of shredded paper. Right beside her desk.
    â€œWhy, that little crab cake!” Dee Dee muttered. “He tore up my riddle.”
    Then she remembered. The riddle was about Croaker. She’d read it out loud.
    But she thought Mister Whiskers hadn’t heard it. She thought he was sound asleep.
    He tricked me again , she thought.
    Dee Dee dashed downstairs. “You really don’t like that bullfrog, do you?” she said.
    Merrrt. The furry face replied. It was cat chat