Cat Found by Ingrid Lee Read Free Book Online

cut a piece of plywood with his band saw and added it to a pile. The white cat sat in the shadows watching him anxiously. She wanted to get back inside her home.
    “You don’t look old enough to work,” Billy said.
    “I’m near seventeen. That’s legal age.” Luke fit two of the pieces into a V-shaped roof and screwed in some hinges. He was good with his hands.
    “Where are your folks?”
    “Don’t know. We went our separate ways.”
    “Where do you live?”
    “I’ve got a room over the hardware store.”
    Finally Billy asked the question that was always on his mind. “Why did you want that pink glass plate?”
    Luke looked at Billy as if he had two heads. He got gruff. “What are you talking about?”
    “We looked in the same trash can one morning,” Billy said. “At the apartment building. I took the bottles. But all you wanted was a broken plate. It was pink….”
    Luke cut Billy off. “I’ve got a project,” he said, hoisting the new roof over the plant pot. “It’s something to help out these cats.” He attached the sides to the slopes with screws. “There’s not much use in telling you. I wrote to the mayor and made a proposal. He never sent me an answer. I guess the mayor and council are too busy for the likes of me.”
    A project? What kind of project uses a pink glass plate? Billy changed the subject. “How come you don’t name the cats?”
    Luke stuck more straw in the spaces between the cat’s pot and the plywood cover. He lined the base of the big pot, too. “Naming the cats is a waste of time,” he snorted. “A name means you’ve got a place in the world. The strays aren’t that lucky. Once the city finds out about this colony, the cats will be driven out of town. Or worse.” He stood up and brushed off the sawdust.
    The white cat scurried back inside her pot. They could hear her scratching out a new nest in the straw.
    “You call the crazy one Scat,” Billy said stubbornly. “That’s a name.”
    “That one needed naming,” Luke retorted. “It’s been a holy terror since it moved into the colony. Now that it’s taken over the manger, it thinks it owns the whole yard.”
    That was the truth. After the sick cat had died, Scat claimed the manger, lock, stock, and barrel. The little spitfire almost split into parts when any other cat ventured too close.
    Billy started to sweep the yard. His silence did the talking.
    After a few minutes, Luke relented. “I suppose you could name ’em,” he said. “Who knows? Maybe the mayor will take some responsibility. Maybe my project will get off the ground and these cats will get a real home. All I need is a miracle.” He turned to Billy. “But I haven’t heard of none of those around here.”
    Billy rested in the shade of the old stable and started to think. There were nine cats in the colony. Besides Scat, he needed eight names. “We’ll call the white one Snowflake,” he said. “And the snooty orange ones can answer to Mac and Cheese.”
    The three silver-striped mackerels poked out their heads. Billy remembered some names from the family fishing trip. “Pike, Perch, and Pickerel,” he decided.
    Luke pointed to the tortoise-colored cat checking out an ant hole. “That one is a Nosey Parker,” he said.
    “Done,” said Billy.
    Only the gray tom was left. Billy was plumb out of ideas. He watched the cat swagger into a leftover patch of sun.
    “Leave it for now,” said Luke. “The name will come to you.”
    When Billy got home, his mom was stretched out on the couch with a textbook on her lap. “‘Bout time you got home, young man!” she declared. “We need to talk. You come with me right now.”
    Billy’s legs turned to jelly. He bit his lip as he followed his mom through the kitchen and past the utility room. The door to his room was ajar. And the bedroom window was wide open.
    His mom waved her arms. “Billy, look at this place!” she complained. “You live like an animal. How do you find anything? Your