Ava and Taco Cat Read Free

was like a wall of cats!
    Each cat had a food bowl, water bowl, litter box, and soft cloth. Some were asleep, but most were wide-awake. One poked his nose out, and another poked his paw out, and another twitched his ears. There was an old white cat and an old black cat pacing back and forth, back and forth. I wondered if they were senile felines (S-E-N-I-L-E-F-E-L-I-N-E-S), which is a palindrome I came up with recently. Then I felt bad for wondering that. Poor cats!
    On the cages were clipboards with pieces of paper. They said things like “indoor cat” and “outdoor cat” and “finicky eater” and “not good with other cats.” One said “gentle with children.” Another said “may require time to warm up to new people.”
    â€œWhere’s the one that got hurt?” Pip asked. We both knew that we needed to find him before someone found us!
    â€œI’m looking !!” I said. And I was! I was searching and searching for the honey-colored cat. I did not want to fall in love with the wrong cat by mistake!
    Pip spotted a sign about “adoption options.” It said that if you couldn’t provide a “forever home,” maybe you could provide a “foster home.” She read it out loud and said, “Think we can talk Mom and Dad into letting us have a cat for a month?”
    â€œI don’t want a cat for a month!” I said. “I want a forever cat! And I want the one we came to find!”
    But where was the cat with the bitten-up ear and soft white zigzag?
    We walked down the hall and entered a second room filled with nothing but kittens. Observation: the only thing cuter than a wall of cats is a wall of kittens! The room smelled a little tiny bit of cat pee (kitten pee?) but I didn’t even mind because the kittens were seriously cute—probably because they were so unserious . One was swatting a ball. Another yawned a big yawn, and then started closing its eyes and flopped over—fast asleep on its food bowl. Another was napping inside its litter box. Each cage had one toy and two or three (or even four!) kittens, and most were licking each other and playing and tumbling. One fluffy gray kitten stood on its hind legs and put out a front paw as if to high-five me. It was hard not to fall head-over-heels in love—but I resisted because I’d made up my mind about which cat I wanted to save.
    Pip pointed out a sign that said: “Please adopt kittens in pairs.” She looked at me and said, “I wish we could.”
    Just then a short lady with a long braid walked in. “Hello, girls.” She was carrying a cage and must have assumed we were allowed to be there.
    â€œHello,” we chimed and followed her back to the room with the grown-up cats.
    The volunteer placed the cage on top of a row of other cages. “This yellow tabby arrived this morning,” she said, adjusting the clipboard. “Got himself into quite a scuffle, poor fella.”
    Pip and I walked over to the yellow tabby. He looked at me with big, sad, round green eyes. He was like a skinny lion cub with a white Harry Potter zigzag above his nose. His right leg was also white, as if he’d broken it and was wearing a cat cast. And the tip of his tail was white, as if he’d dipped it into paint.
    Pip and I both knew this was the cat we’d come to find! I looked at him and he looked at me, and I wished I could adopt him right then and there!
    â€œHe’s a bit skittish,” the lady said.
    â€œScottish?” Pip said.
    â€œSkittish,” the lady repeated. “Frightened. You know, a scaredy-cat. But who can blame him? He’s been through a lot.”
    â€œHow much does he cost?” I asked.
    Pip stared at me, eyes wide.
    â€œKittens come with a small price tag—unless you take two,” the lady answered. “But older cats are free. We want them to find good homes.”
    â€œCan I put this one on