Caroline Cala - The Good, the Bad and the Bossy (Best Babysitters Ever)

No longer would she have to feel insulted when Chocolate Pudding, the family cat, ignored her displays of affection. Her own cat would never do such a thing. Her own cat would love her and snuggle with her and be her very best friend. Her own cat might even wear a hoodie. With sparkles! Bree couldn’t wait.

All day long, she could barely concentrate on school. This was her biggest life dream come true. (Well, technically her biggest life dream was the one where she discovers Veronica is her long-lost sister, and Veronica lets Bree borrow all her shoes and clothes and joins forces to help open a cat ranch, where hundreds of cats could roam and play in total happiness, forever. But this slightly more realistic dream – adopting a cat of her very own – was pretty high up there.)

But now the moment was finally here. Bree was on her way to meet her future cat.

Bree, Malia and Dot raced through the mall, with Bree leading the way, and Bree’s mom trailing somewhere behind them.

“Are you sure it’s a good idea to get a cat right now?” Malia asked. “I’ve booked us for four new gigs this week alone to help raise money for the concert.”

“It’s fine,” Bree said. “I can totally handle it. The cat will probably nap all the time, anyway.”

Nothing was going to rain on her cat parade. Not even Veronica.

They sped right by the other shops without so much as a glance until they reached the entrance to MeowTown, the neighbourhood cat café.

“YES!” Bree yelled, so loudly it might have been heard in outer space. She inhaled. It smelled like kitty litter and endless possibilities. She breathed in so deeply that some airborne fur went up her nose, and she sneezed. She was in heaven.

MeowTown functioned just like an animal shelter. It took in homeless cats, provided vet care and shelter, and offered the added bonus of letting the public hang out with the cats until they found forever homes. All of the cats at MeowTown were up for adoption, and the staff was knowledgeable about every cat’s story. Bree had been to MeowTown too many times to count, but she had never before gone with the mission of actually adopting one.

The girls scanned the café. There was an orange cat, a super-fat gray cat, a skinny black cat, a white cat with fluffy fur, and a trio of striped kittens. There was a cat with tortoiseshell fur, and even a Russian blue cat, which was called blue but was actually kind of grey. Bree stopped to say hello to each one.

“Do you have any idea what you’re looking for?” asked Dot. “I mean, did you do any research?”

“Research? On what?” Bree asked, perplexed. “They’re cats. I love them all.”

“But don’t they have, like, different temperaments or whatever?” Dot asked.

Was there any truth to this? Bree just shrugged. A cat was a cat. And a cat was wonderful.

Looking at face after feline face, Bree wondered how she would ever make a decision. How could she choose just one? It was like being asked to wear only purple or eat only gummy frogs for the rest of her life.

But then, she saw it.

All the way in the corner, a very creepy creature was huddled in the back of a hollow scratching tower. It didn’t have any fur, and its skin was pink and wrinkly. It had huge yellow eyes and enormous ears that stood tall on top of its head, like a vampire bat.

Was it even a cat?

All around her, the other cats were busy romping, playing and being petted by visitors. But the vampire cat-bat was all alone. At once, Bree’s heart broke. She knew how it felt to be ignored, when all around you everyone else was doing cute or impressive things and you seemed invisible. She often felt overlooked in her giant family, and it was a sad sort of feeling.

She and the cat locked eyes. Bree loved it immediately.

“Hi, little friend!” said Bree, by way of greeting.

She approached the scratching tower.

“Ew,” said Dot.

“I think there’s something wrong with that one,” said Malia.

“There is nothing wrong with her!” said Bree. She felt insulted on the maybe-cat’s behalf.

Dot crouched down so she was close enough to read the tag around the cat’s neck. “McDuffin. What kind of name is that?”

“It sounds like fast food,” said Malia.

“You know I love fast food, but that sounds like a mistake,” said Dot.

“I’m in love with her!” said Bree, clasping her hands together.

“You’re in love . . . with that?” asked Malia, wrinkling her face up like she smelled a fart. “Are you sure?”

“We’re not even sure what that is,” said Dot. “Is it a cat?”

“It is the most beautiful cat,” said Bree. The cat visibly brightened. Watching this cat, Bree suddenly understood how Malia felt about Connor Kelly. It was like seeing a unicorn in a forest, and then having all your friends insist it was just a regular horse. Why couldn’t they see the magic?

Bree’s mom, who had lingered silently a few feet away from the girls, finally spoke up. “Oh,” she said. “That’s, um, that’s interesting.”

Bree sighed. “Everything about her is perfect.”

“I beg to disagree,” said Dot. She began counting off the reasons on her fingers. “For one, it doesn’t have any fur. Two, do we need to be concerned that it’s standing like that? Like it wants to maybe kill us? Three, its expression is . . . highly concerning.”

“No! Her face is sweet,” argued Bree. “So sweet and wrinkly. She just needs lots of hugs.”

“And a sweater,” said Malia.

“Oh my goodness, yes! Or a hoodie!” Bree was already planning her extensive wardrobe, mentally putting aside some of her former dolls’ clothes that might be a good fit. Bree had dreamed about dressing up her cat, but this hairless cat would actually require it!

“Excuse me, um, Bartholomeow?” Bree called to the nearest volunteer. “Can you tell me more about this one?”

The volunteer shuffled over to the scratching tower. He looked to be a college student, and his name tag read BARTHOLOMEW . (Though Bree had clearly misread it as “Bartholo-meow,” which only added to her excitement.)

“This here is a sphynx cat,” he said, “a very special breed.”

“You can say that again,” said Dot, prompting a giggle from Malia.

“Sphynx cats are highly social cats that enjoy more attention than your typical housecat,” Bartholomew explained. “They tend to get along well with other animals, and they have LOTS of energy. They love to be held and snuggled, almost like dogs!”

Attention? Snuggling? Bree was sold.

“I’ll take her!” said Bree, with the kind of enthusiasm usually reserved for people on game shows or reality shows or home makeover shows or really any kind of show where people win stuff.

“Um, perhaps he can tell us some more facts about this specific cat before we sign on the dotted line,” Bree’s mom cut in.

“Yes, it’s best to be absolutely sure of your decision.” Bartholomew nodded sombrely. “We’re looking to find each of these animals forever homes, and we wouldn’t want to cause the cat any undue stress.”

“Where did this particular animal come from?” Bree’s mom asked.

“McDuffin was an owner surrender.” Bartholomew frowned. “McDuffin is quite young, you see, but the original owner had change-in-life circumstances and could no longer handle pet ownership.”

This prompted an “Aww” from Bree.

Bartholomew paused before adding, “And neither could either of the families who adopted him since.”

“I’m sorry, did you say this cat has been returned three times?” Dot asked.

Malia and Dot elbowed each other.

“Now, not exactly. I mean, technically yes, but not for any real reason!” Bartholomew added quickly. “No, no, there’s nothing wrong with McDuffin. McDuffin just has the worst luck.”