Free The Cats in the Doll Shop by Yona Zeldis McDonough Page B

shook his head in disgust. “If you want him so badly, why don’t you take him?”
    Which, of course, was just what I was trying to do. Yet once Papa had calmed the man down, and the yelling turned to grumbling, Plucky was nowhere to be found.

    Now, I am upstairs at the table, with Mama painting my hands and face, and my sisters and cousin goggle-eyed with all the excitement. There won’t be much sleep for any of us tonight.
    â€œDoes it hurt?” Trudie asks. She sounds so concerned.
    â€œNot too much,” I say, wanting to reassure her.
    â€œI told you you were brave!” exclaims Sophie when Mama is out of earshot. “I never would have had the nerve to try to rescue him.”
    â€œTried and failed,” I say. “Poor Plucky.”
    â€œPoor Plucky,” repeats Tania. I look at her, amazed. Trudie’s hands fly to her mouth, and even Sophie looks surprised. I have heard Tania say a few English words here and there, mostly to Mama. But these are the first words she has said directly to any of us. Never mind that what she said sounded more like “ Puhr Pluck-hee .” I smile a big smile even though it makes my face hurt.
    Finally, Mama finishes cleaning my cuts and scratches. “Now you girls have to get to bed!” she says. “We all need some sleep.”
    â€œBut what about Plucky?” I ask. “Shouldn’t we try to find him?”
    â€œNo!” Papa says sharply. “Not now, and not tomorrow. That cat is a menace. Stay away from him.”
    â€œThat’s not true,” I plead. “He’s not a bad cat, Papa. He was just scared. Especially when that horrible man showed up. You said it yourself, Papa. What kind of person tries to poison a kitten?”
    â€œHe’s a terrible man,” Papa says. “But I still won’t allow the cat anywhere near you girls. If I find him, I’ll have to take him away.”
    â€œAway? Where is away?” I ask. Papa does not answer.
    â€œThat’s enough talk about cats for one night,” Mama says, getting up from the table. She closes the bottle of gentian violet tightly. “To bed with all of you—now!”

    A week goes by. Still no sign of Plucky. I wonder if Ginger Cat misses him as much as I do. Do cats miss each other? Maybe not, because Ginger Cat seems happy. She purrs when she sees Tania, who speaks to her in what sounds like a mix of Yiddish and English. “ Gut katz ,” she says as she strokes Ginger Cat’s head.
    Ginger Cat has even taken to jumping in Papa’s lap while he reads the newspaper at night. I think he likes it, because he gives her a little scratch behind the ears while she is sitting there. As for Plucky, I try to console myself by imagining that he has been found by another girl, one who will love him, if not as much as I do, then almost as much—which would be pretty good.
    One night about a week after Plucky has disappeared, I am lying in bed just before lights out, when I start to cry. I just miss that little cat so much. Not wanting anyone to see me, I turn my face to the pillow. But that doesn’t fool Trudie, who climbs up to the top bunk to sit next to me.
    â€œWhy are you so sad, Anna?” she asks.
    â€œIt’s Plucky!” I say, lifting my face from the soggy pillowcase. “I wish he would come back!”
    â€œMaybe he will,” Sophie says. “You never can tell.”
    Tania pokes her head out of her bed and looks up at me. She is clutching Shannon and blinking in that way she still does sometimes, though thankfully not so much. Then she gets up, kneels down, and pulls a box out from under her bed. Curious, I lean over so I can see. Inside are the dove gray envelopes that must contain the letters she gets from her mother. But there are drawings in there, too, a whole bunch of them. She selects one and hands it to me. It’s a picture of a small orange cat, curled up on a footstool.