Lending a Paw(12)

He galloped across the parking lot.

“Eddie!” I yelled. “Don’t go into the road!” I pounded up to the front of the bookmobile, grabbed the keys from the ignition, shoved my cell into my pocket, ran down the steps, locked the door, and pelted hell-for-leather after my cat.

If he heard my frantic calls, he gave no indication. I ran as fast as I could, but Eddie’s four legs left me far behind. He hurtled across the gravel parking lot, went over the drainage ditch with a graceful leap, raced across the road—The road! Oh, Eddie—and over the opposite ditch, never looking left, never looking right.

By the grace of all that was holy, no cars showed up to hit either one of us. “Eddie!” I called as I labored behind him, more a pant now than a shout. “Come back!”

He ran down the far side of the road’s ditch, then shot into a mass of small trees and overgrown shrubs and knee-high grass.

“Rot. Ten. Cat,” I huffed as I ran. “Why. Do. I. Keep. You?” I made the same turn Eddie had and pushed my way through the vegetation. “Eddie? Eddie!”

Behind a row of shaggy bushes, I saw the roofline of a house. An old farmhouse, of one and a half stories, sagging clapboard siding, and no decorative frills whatsoever. “Eddie?” I heard a faint “Rrrowwr.”

“Where are you, pal?” I pushed aside snagging branches and reached the side of the house. “Eddie? Are you okay?” Here, it was a little easier to forge through the jungle that might once have been landscaping. “Eddie?”

“Rrowr.”

I heard him scratching his claws on something. “I’m getting closer, bud. Where are you?” More bushes, more shrubs . . . and then I burst out of the jungle and into a clearing bounded on one side by the house, on another by a decrepit barn, and on the other two sides by a view of the hills.

Eddie stood on his hind legs, scratching at the corner of the house. “What on earth are you doing?” I asked, looking around, and noted an old driveway. Huh. If I’d been smarter, I would have followed that instead of tracking Eddie through the wilderness.

“Rrrowwrr!” he yowled, scratching wildly.

“What is wrong with you?” I waded toward him through the tall grass. My voice took on the wheedling tone I used when I wanted him to do something he didn’t want to. “Tell you what. You come here right now and I won’t take away your PlayStation privileges. What do you say?”

He gave me a quick look over his shoulder. Went back to yowling and scratching.

So much for the wheedling tone. Not that it had ever worked before, but it didn’t hurt to try.

I came within grabbing distance, but bided my time. If I reached for him now, he’d take off in a new direction. Surely, a nice monologue from Mother Minnie would calm him down. “What’s the matter?” I looked down at my troublesome cat, who was continuing to scratch and was now making disturbing howling noises deep in his throat. “It’s an abandoned farmhouse and no one has lived here in years. Mice and rats, maybe, but if it’s mice you want, I’ll take you up to the boardinghouse. Aunt Frances would love your help.”

“Rrowr!”

I squatted down to scoop him up. He was a big cat and I’d learned the hard way to lift with my legs. “Here we go, let’s—”

“RROWR!”

I jerked back. Eddie had never bitten me, never clawed me, never been anything but the lovable yet dorky cat that he was. But for a second there . . .

Fine.

Standing up out of my crouch, I tried to think what to do. My cat had gone berserk and I had no clue how to unberserk him. If only he could talk.

Or not. I might learn more than I wanted to know.

I watched him scratch. Obviously he wanted in the house, but what could possibly be in there? Through a side window I saw kitchen cabinets, their doors open and shelves as bare as Mother Hubbard’s.

“There’s nothing there, Edster.”

“Mrrorwr!”

Again with the scary howly noise. If I showed him that the place was empty, maybe he’d come to his kitty senses and we could be on our way. Since this was the kitchen, there must be a door just around the corner. “Let’s go around the back, okay, Eddie?” I headed off in that direction. “C’mon, we’ll—”

He bounded past me and streaked off.

Well.

“Must be you want to check out the backyard,” I said, following him once again. Around the corner, I frowned. Why was the kitchen door open? And it looked broken. Strange . . .

“Mrr!”

“Okay, okay.” I scanned the tall grass for signs of Eddie. “I can take a hint if I’m beaten over the head with it. I’m really pretty smart, you know. Did I ever tell you what I got on my SATs? Bet my score was a lot higher than yours, and—oh!”