Read Online Ava and Taco Cat by Carol Weston - Free Book Online

pooper-scooper business.
    Here’s what I’ve been thinking: Most dogs are trainable and protective and loyal and friendly and fun to take on walks (which is good). But when you take your dog on a walk, you have to take a plastic bag with you and deal with the doody (not good). You’re expected to just stand there while your dog is crouching and straining as though it’s nothing. And neither you, nor your dog, are supposed to act embarrassed even though you’re in public. If your dog has diarrhea, you’re still supposed to clean it up. And if there’s no garbage can in sight, well, you’re supposed to just carry the P-O-O-P (or diarrhea!) around in your plastic bag until you find one.
    Yuck!!
    I think cats are more dignified—but then, I’m more of a cat person than a dog person.
    Ava, Cat Person Kid
    P.S. I was brushing my teeth and left the water running. Taco jumped up, stuck his head under the faucet, and starting lapping at the water. It was cute. But it was not dignified!
    P.P.S. I’ll admit that if a stranger wanted to break into your house, a dog might be a handier pet than a cat. Like, there are watchdogs , but no watchcats . A dog might also be handier if you accidentally spilled food on the floor.

1/9
Saturday N-O-O-N
Dear Diary,
    Dad made a big Irish breakfast: eggs, bacon, sausage, baked beans, mushrooms, tomatoes, and scones.
    I asked Maybelle to come over, but she had “stuff to do.” She said I should come over Monday after school.
    Monday feels far away, but I said, “Okay,” and decided that that’s when I’d ask her what Zara has been saying about me.
    Mom just took clean clothes out of the dryer to fold, and when the laundry pile was all toasty warm, Taco hopped on top and settled in with his legs tucked under him. He looked like a hen sitting on eggs and seemed pleased with himself.
    Mom and I smiled as if we were sharing an inside joke. I was glad Mom didn’t shoo Taco away or make a remark about cat fur on clean clothes. She even turned to Taco and said in a sing-songy voice I’d never heard before, “Are you finally making yourself at home? Yes, you are. Yes, you are.”
    It was sweet, to tell you the truth.
    Ava and Taco at Home

1/10
Dear Diary,
    Dad and I were making Sunday sundaes, and I told him I wished Taco would jump on my bed and snuggle with me and purr.
    Dad said, “Be patient. Rome wasn’t built in a day.”
    I was about to ask, “How many days was it built in?” but instead said, “He’s had ten days!”
    â€œAnd he is warming up to us,” Dad pointed out. We both looked at Taco. He’d found a patch of sunshine on the kitchen floor and was grooming himself: licking his five-toed paws and “brushing” his mismatched ears.
    He might have sensed that we were talking about him because he lifted his head and looked right at me.
    â€œWho’s a good boy?” I said and got on the floor and puckered up as if to give him a kiss. He sniffed my lips and sneezed a little cat sneeze. That made Dad laugh—and that made Taco scamper off.
    Since Maybelle was (supposedly) busy, Pip and I texted Bea to see if she wanted to come over. She texted, “Can Ben come too?” Pip liked that idea, so we texted back, “Sure.”
    Now Bea and Ben are both about to walk in. Pip is nervous, I can tell. She just put on lip gloss. Lip gloss! Next thing you know, she’ll be wearing eyeliner! Or cologne!
    She has also been cleaning her room. She said she’s almost done.
    I said “almost” is an unusual word because all its letters are in alphabetical order.
    I also said that my initials are in alphabetical order and hers aren’t.
    She said, “Who cares?” I said that if my first name were her middle name, she’d be Pip Ava Wren and her initials would be P. A. W.—like “paw.” She rolled her eyes as if she had way more important