Ava and Taco Cat by Carol Weston Page B

(a hard bonus word because of the “a” between “temper” and “mental”). Now she’s happier—which is better for her and for us. But she still has her moments! And she’s been stressing about finishing the fish book on time.
    Taco was sitting in the living room with his left paw stretched out in front of him. Maybelle said, “He looks like the king of the beasts.”
    I said, “Or the prince of the beasts.”
    Lucia asked, “Has he purred yet?”
    Pip said, “Yes! For me and Ava and Maybelle!”
    We told Carmen and Lucia to go up to him very slowly and brush him very gently. And sure enough, instead of bolting, Taco let them brush him. After a long, long while, he even turned on his rumble bumble rumble bumble motor and started purring and vibrating. Lucia pressed her ears against his side and he didn’t run away!
    â€œMás rápido,” Lucia whispered, and then, “Más lento.” But Taco didn’t speed up or slow down. He kept purring at his very own speed.
    Ava, Whose Cat is Purrrrrfect

1/17
TWO HOURS LATER
IN DR. GROSS'S WAITING ROOM
Dear Diary,
    I’m really worried about Taco!! After Maybelle and the twins went home, Dad and Pip went to a matinee, and I noticed that Taco started acting strange. His bathroom door was open, and he was going in and out and in and out. He was also crouching as if he had to pee but couldn’t. His little behind was all quivery, and he looked at me with his big round eyes and gave a melancholy meow as if to tell me something was wrong. It seemed like he was even trying to pee outside his litter box, which he never does.
    I went into the bathroom and saw a couple of tiny pink drops on the white bath mat. I didn’t want to get Taco in trouble, but I thought I’d better tell Mom.
    But she wasn’t home! I remembered that she’d gone out for a walk with our neighbor, Mrs. Farris. I called Mom on her cell phone, but then I heard her phone buzzing in her purse—she’d left it on the kitchen counter!
    Taco looked up at me—but not with a love-blink, more like an anxious expression. I was trying to figure out what to do—stay with him or get help—and decided to put on my coat and boots and run to the park and find Mom.
    At first I couldn’t find her anywhere. Then I saw her way ahead, so I ran and ran and caught up to her.
    Mom seemed surprised to see me. I told her about Taco, and I don’t know what I expected her to say, but I did not expect her to say, “Ava, we need to get Taco to the clinic immediately .”
    â€œBut it’s Sunday!”
    â€œLet’s hurry home. I’ll call Dr. Gross, and you get the cat carrier. We have no time to lose!”
    We said good-bye to Mrs. Farris and ran back. Mom called Dr. Gross, and I got Taco into his carrier and held him on my lap as Mom drove. Mom and I both kept telling Taco things like, “Don’t be scared,” and “Dr. Gross is going to take care of you.”
    Now we’re at the clinic, which would normally be closed. If regular people have a Sunday emergency, they have to drive to the animal hospital twenty-five minutes away. But Dr. Gross told Mom he’d meet us here.
    It’s strange to be sitting in the empty waiting room. It’s hardly ever empty. Mom said I could watch the “procedure,” but I was afraid to. I knew it would be better for me to write in you.
    Writing always helps.
    I’m actually writing with the “magic pen” Dad gave me, the silver one from the Dublin Writers Museum in Ireland, the one I almost lost. I barely use it anymore because I don’t want to lose it again. But I grabbed it for luck, just in case.
    Taco may need all the luck he can get!
    Why is it taking so, so long? I don’t like this!
    Ava, Agonizing

1/17
back home without Taco!
Dear Diary,
    Poor Taco Cat has to stay at the vet’s without us! He’s back in a