Batcat and the Seven Squirrels Read Free

slightly so he and his parents could look inside. The squirrels were all cuddled together in one big ball of fur and tails, surrounded by a pink towel.
    “So cute,” his mother whispered.
    “We better let them sleep,” his father said, and Nathan lowered the lid and softly closed it.
    “Now that we have seven babies asleep, we have to get the eighth to bed,” his father said.
    “I’m not a baby,” Nathan protested. “I’m almost eight.”
    “And a very grown-up eight,” his father said. “Because now you’re like a parent to seven babies.”
    His father picked up Nathan and carried him to bed. His mother tucked him in. This started their bedtime routine of his parents lying beside him and all three of them reading together. They’d hardly started the story when Nathan’s eyelids got heavy, and it looked like he was asleep.
    Quietly Nathan’s parents got off the bed and turned out the big light, leaving the room with a little glow from the night-light in the corner. As they started to pull the door closed, Nathan called out.
    “What will happen with the squirrels tomorrow?” he asked.
    “They’ll be fine,” his mother said.
    “Will they?” he asked.
    “We’ll do the best we can,” his father said. “Day by day, we’ll do the best we can for them.”

CHAPTER FIVE
    The squirrels scampered around the backyard as Nathan and his mother sat on the porch. They’d grown so much bigger in the past two weeks.
    “You be careful up there, Scruffy!” Nathan called out as the squirrel jumped onto the fence.
    “I still don’t know how you can tell them all apart,” his mother said.

    “I still don’t know how you and Dad can’t. They’re all so different.”
    Scruffy was missing a patch of fur on one side. Fluffy was, well, the fluffiest. Patches had a tiny patch of white fur on his right back leg. Bushy had the thickest, longest tail. Shiny had the brightest eyes, and Rocky had the biggest cheeks.
    Nathan had named all of them except Rocky. His father had said it was sort of like a law that if you had seven squirrels, one of them had to be called Rocky. He also said that if they ever had a pet moose, he’d have to be called Bullwinkle. Nathan thought a pet moose would be pretty cool and agreed to the name.
    And, of course, there was Munchie. He was the biggest and probably the oldest. They figured that’s why he had been strong enough to climb down from the tree by himself to get help.
    Nathan, like a good squirrel parent, constantly looked around the yard for anything that could harm them.
    “Have you seen Batcat today?” Nathan asked.
    “Not today, not yet.”
    The big cat was often there watching the squirrels when they were out playing in the yard.
    “I guess it’s my fault that he’s around so much,” his mother said.
    Nathan gave her a questioning look.
    “Sometimes I used to feed him,” she said.
    “Me too,” Nathan admitted. “Sometimes I still put scraps out for him in the back of the yard. That’s okay, right?”
    “It’s hard not to like the old guy. You know, he even let me pet him once,” said Nathan’s mom.
    “He lets me pet him too,” Nathan said. “Sometimes he even purrs, but it’s a strange purr.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “It’s all gravelly and bumpy like his purr machine is broken.”
    “That’s not surprising. Between his bent tail and missing part of his ear, I think he’s had a pretty hard life.”
    “He’s sort of like our squirrels,” Nathan said.
    “What do you mean?”
    “He’s an orphan too. There’s nobody to care for him either.”

    “The squirrels are lucky. They have you,” his mother said. She reached over to give Nathan’s hand a squeeze, but Nathan suddenly jumped to his feet.
    “Munchie, look out!” he screamed.
    A white cat was slinking across the grass toward Munchie, whose back was turned so he couldn’t see it coming.
    Nathan had only run a few steps before the cat leaped into the air—and then there was a bolt of