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

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СКАЧАТЬ the craziest eyes,” Dot continued.

      “And the sweetest face!” Bree concluded. “I LOVE YOU, HONEY MUFFIN!” she whispered at the cat’s face.

      The cat hissed softly.

      “Anyway, it’s best to make sure you and the cat have good feelings about each other,” Bartholomew insisted.

      Bree turned her attention back to Bartholomew, and then to her mom. “Yes, I’m absolutely sure. This is the cat for me.”

      Bree’s mom hesitated, then nodded.

      “All right, let’s make it official!” Bartholomew clapped his hands and led Bree’s mom over to the front counter so she could fill out the adoption paperwork.

      While her mom took care of the boring stuff, Bree picked out a rhinestone collar and a trio of sparkly toy mice. She got a little choked up, imagining her new best friend romping joyfully around her room with the new toys. Bree couldn’t wait for McDuffin to discover her wonderful new life. Just a few moments later, McDuffin was in a cat carrier, bound for the Robinson house.

      “So you have a new baby,” Malia said, eyeing the feline cargo. “How does it feel?”

      “I can’t believe it!” Bree said. “This is the best day of my life.”

      “What are you going to name her?” asked Dot. “I mean, clearly you can’t keep calling her McDuffin.”

      “I shall name her . . .” Bree paused for effect. “Veronica.”

      “I’m sensing a theme here,” said Dot.

      It was only fitting. For years, Bree had tried to change the family cat Chocolate Pudding’s name to Taylor Swift and had been met with much resistance. But now she could name her own cat whatever she wanted. From this moment forward, Veronica would forever be known as Veronica.

      “I suppose this Veronica doesn’t have a last name, either?” Malia asked.

      “MEOW,” Veronica said, somewhat aggressively.

      “Okay, then,” said Malia. “No last name necessary.”

      “You guys, thank you so much for being part of my big day!” Bree said, getting a little choked up. “You’re going to be the best cat aunts ever.”

      “We wouldn’t have missed it for the world.” Dot smiled. “Although I’m not sure I’m cut out to be a cat aunt. But I’ll certainly try my best.”

      “We should celebrate,” said Malia.

      “Ooh, yes! Do you guys want to hit up the food court?” Dot asked.

      “Yeah!” Malia visibly brightened at the mention of food.

      “We should probably get going,” Bree said, tilting her head toward Veronica, who was now rubbing her bald, wrinkly head against the inside of the carrier door. “You know, introduce her to her new home and all.”

      “Oh, right,” Malia said.

      “Yeah. But you guys go on without me!” Bree said.

      She gave each of her friends a one-armed hug with her right arm, with the cat case cradled in her left. There was something bittersweet about this moment. Of course she was sad to miss out on the food court, but she was embarking on a much bigger journey – the path of pet parenthood.

      The entire car ride home, Bree whispered into the cat carrier, sharing her hopes and dreams. She told Veronica about all the beautiful toys waiting back at home, and how they would wear matching outfits and sleep in Bree’s big, fluffy bed. She told her about all the songs she would sing and the musical numbers Veronica could participate in. There was even talk of a sequined hoodie the perfect size for a cat.

      At last, they arrived home. Bree could hardly believe this was it: the beautiful moment when they started their new life, together.

      “And this,” Bree said, opening the door to her bedroom, “is your new home. What do you think?”

      The cat did not answer.

      Bree placed the cat carrier in the centre of her room and opened the tiny door.

      “Welcome home, Veronica!”

      The cat made no move to exit. She just sat there, scowling.

      “Veronica! This is where you live now.”

      More scowling.

      Bree sat on her bed, waiting for the cat to emerge. But she showed no sign of movement. Bree tried to think of what she would do if a new babysitting charge was being shy. Maybe a game of show-and-tell would liven things up. She started wandering around the room, holding up objects.

      She grabbed a stuffed giraffe off of a shelf. “This is Wallace,” she said. “I met him at a carnival when I was seven. He’s kind of a secret. I’ve slept next to him every night since I was in kindergarten and I’m not about to stop now. But now that you live here, if you want to cuddle with me instead, well, we can talk about that.”

      Veronica blinked.

      Bree grabbed a book from her desk. “This is my chemistry textbook. I’m not sure what it’s doing out on my desk right now, because I hate it.” She slipped it into her backpack, where she could no longer see it. “That’s better.”

      Next, Bree wandered back over to the bed. “This is my favourite pillow.” She held up a pillow that her seventeen-year-old stepsister, Ariana, had given her for her last birthday. It was navy blue, with lots of very shiny silver sequins sewed all over it, like tiny little mirrors. “Isn’t it pretty?” The pillow sparkled in the light.

      “MEOW-MEOW!” Veronica came bounding out of the case. “MEEEEEEEEEROW!” The cat headed straight towards her, a look of pure fury in her giant yellow eyes. Bree had never seen anything move so fast in her life. She was so shocked, she dropped the pillow.

      “MEEEEEEEEEW!” Veronica landed on top of the pillow, where she began attacking it with her very sharp claws. Mirrored sequins flew into the air, along with clouds of stuffing. It was the most destructive thing Bree had ever seen. She stood there, stunned.

      Bree had loved that pillow for as long as she’d had it, and she’d loved cats for, well, her entire life. She had pictured a very different homecoming. Instead, she stood helplessly, watching as her perfect day was destroyed in seconds.

      She had expected to spend this day petting Veronica, dressing her in various dolls’ clothes while softly singing her songs from Cats the Musical. Veronica, clearly, had a different idea.

      

      Dot stared into her beaker with the same intensity her mother (a practising clairvoyant) used to gaze into her crystal ball. Most likely, it was growing up in a home surrounded by crystals and candles and charts about meridians СКАЧАТЬ