backyard.
Even so, Missy never would have even thought
about going through the hole in the fence if the man's pretty cat
hadn't scurried inside the man's garage through a broken window.
Missy put her ear next to the hole and listened really hard. She
heard teeny, tiny cries. The kittens had to be the in garage! No
one would mind if she looked, would they? It wasn't like she was
going to hurt anything or take anything. She just wanted to see the
kittens.
The hole in the fence wasn't quite big
enough for Missy to fit through. She was a little girl—Daddy always
said she was his cute little girl—but Missy was too big to fit. She
wasn't allowed to go out in the front yard by herself, so she
couldn't just walk down the sidewalk to the neighbor's house and
ask to see his kittens. But maybe if she worked at it, she could
make the hole in the fence bigger.
Missy watched her daddy sometimes when he
worked on furniture. Most of the time he had to take things apart
before he could put them back together. He said it made the
furniture stronger so that it would last longer. If she made the
hole in the fence bigger, Daddy could put it back together stronger
and it would last longer, and everyone would be happy.
Or at least that's what she told herself as
she spent all afternoon trying to make the hole bigger with her
spoon. She stabbed and scraped and dug at the broken board, but by
the time Mommy yelled at Missy to come inside and wash up before
they went home, the hole still wasn't big enough for Missy to crawl
through.
She needed a better tool, that was all.
Spoons were only good for dirt. Daddy had a whole workbench full of
tools. One time when she'd asked Daddy why he had so many, he said
different jobs needed different tools, and a person had to use the
right tool for the right job.
Maybe she could find the right tool on
Daddy's workbench tomorrow.
That night when Mommy came to tuck her into
bed, Mommy asked what Missy had been doing all day. "You were so
quiet," Mommy said. "I had to look out the window to make sure you
were still there."
Missy's heart pounded hard. Had Mommy seen
what she was doing? And why did that make Missy feel scared?
Mommy was looking at her funny, like she was
waiting for Missy to say something. Missy didn't think she should
tell Mommy about the fence. She didn't want Mommy to say she
couldn't go see the kittens.
She wouldn't have to worry about it at all
if Daddy only let her have a kitten of her own.
"Why doesn't Daddy like cats?" Missy
asked.
Mommy blinked, a surprised look on her face.
"Why do you think that? Daddy likes cats."
"He won't let me have one."
"Ah." Mommy brushed the hair away from
Missy's face. Mommy's touch was soft, like it always was, even
though her fingers were rough from sewing all day on the big
machine Missy was never, ever to touch. "Daddy had a cat a long
time ago," Mommy said. "It got hurt, and that made Daddy sad."
Mommy looked sad now, too, like she might
cry. Missy didn't want her mommy to cry, but she needed to know
what happened to Daddy's cat.
"Did Daddy take care of it?" Daddy took care
of Mommy once when Mommy got sick, and Mommy said he was good at
it, even if the soup Daddy made didn't taste as good as
Mommy's.
"No, sweetheart. When Daddy took the cat to
the doctor, the doctor said it wouldn't get better, and it was
kinder not to make it suffer."
Now Missy felt like she might cry. She knew
about death. Death was forever. Death took people away, like her
Grandma, and never let them come back. Grandma used to take care of
Missy when she was really little. When Grandma died, Missy had to
come to work with Mommy and Daddy instead of staying home and
playing with her friend Laura. She didn't like that Daddy's cat had
died, too.
Mommy cupped the side of Missy's head. "We
just have to give Daddy a little time, sweetheart." She kissed
Missy on her forehead and turned off the lamp on the table next to
Missy's bed. "Sleep well."
But Missy didn't sleep well.
Even so, Missy never would have even thought
about going through the hole in the fence if the man's pretty cat
hadn't scurried inside the man's garage through a broken window.
Missy put her ear next to the hole and listened really hard. She
heard teeny, tiny cries. The kittens had to be the in garage! No
one would mind if she looked, would they? It wasn't like she was
going to hurt anything or take anything. She just wanted to see the
kittens.
The hole in the fence wasn't quite big
enough for Missy to fit through. She was a little girl—Daddy always
said she was his cute little girl—but Missy was too big to fit. She
wasn't allowed to go out in the front yard by herself, so she
couldn't just walk down the sidewalk to the neighbor's house and
ask to see his kittens. But maybe if she worked at it, she could
make the hole in the fence bigger.
Missy watched her daddy sometimes when he
worked on furniture. Most of the time he had to take things apart
before he could put them back together. He said it made the
furniture stronger so that it would last longer. If she made the
hole in the fence bigger, Daddy could put it back together stronger
and it would last longer, and everyone would be happy.
Or at least that's what she told herself as
she spent all afternoon trying to make the hole bigger with her
spoon. She stabbed and scraped and dug at the broken board, but by
the time Mommy yelled at Missy to come inside and wash up before
they went home, the hole still wasn't big enough for Missy to crawl
through.
She needed a better tool, that was all.
Spoons were only good for dirt. Daddy had a whole workbench full of
tools. One time when she'd asked Daddy why he had so many, he said
different jobs needed different tools, and a person had to use the
right tool for the right job.
Maybe she could find the right tool on
Daddy's workbench tomorrow.
That night when Mommy came to tuck her into
bed, Mommy asked what Missy had been doing all day. "You were so
quiet," Mommy said. "I had to look out the window to make sure you
were still there."
Missy's heart pounded hard. Had Mommy seen
what she was doing? And why did that make Missy feel scared?
Mommy was looking at her funny, like she was
waiting for Missy to say something. Missy didn't think she should
tell Mommy about the fence. She didn't want Mommy to say she
couldn't go see the kittens.
She wouldn't have to worry about it at all
if Daddy only let her have a kitten of her own.
"Why doesn't Daddy like cats?" Missy
asked.
Mommy blinked, a surprised look on her face.
"Why do you think that? Daddy likes cats."
"He won't let me have one."
"Ah." Mommy brushed the hair away from
Missy's face. Mommy's touch was soft, like it always was, even
though her fingers were rough from sewing all day on the big
machine Missy was never, ever to touch. "Daddy had a cat a long
time ago," Mommy said. "It got hurt, and that made Daddy sad."
Mommy looked sad now, too, like she might
cry. Missy didn't want her mommy to cry, but she needed to know
what happened to Daddy's cat.
"Did Daddy take care of it?" Daddy took care
of Mommy once when Mommy got sick, and Mommy said he was good at
it, even if the soup Daddy made didn't taste as good as
Mommy's.
"No, sweetheart. When Daddy took the cat to
the doctor, the doctor said it wouldn't get better, and it was
kinder not to make it suffer."
Now Missy felt like she might cry. She knew
about death. Death was forever. Death took people away, like her
Grandma, and never let them come back. Grandma used to take care of
Missy when she was really little. When Grandma died, Missy had to
come to work with Mommy and Daddy instead of staying home and
playing with her friend Laura. She didn't like that Daddy's cat had
died, too.
Mommy cupped the side of Missy's head. "We
just have to give Daddy a little time, sweetheart." She kissed
Missy on her forehead and turned off the lamp on the table next to
Missy's bed. "Sleep well."
But Missy didn't sleep well.
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