Hissy Fitz by Patrick Jennings Read Free Book Online Page A

the game.”
    “You’re a good cat, Hissy Fitz,” Igloo says.
    “I wouldn’t say that.”
    But it’s nice that he did.

22.
The Champions
    Once we’ve eaten and found some water — from a leaky sprinkler — we return to the field. The others are all there, lying in the grass, grooming.
    “Are we ready to start again?” Igloo asks.
    No one answers. The food has slowed us down. Personally, some shut-eye sounds like a great idea.
    “No?” Igloo laughs. “Okay. Why don’t we take a short catnap. Wake us up in a bit, okay, Sid?”
    Sid is curled up with her head on her paws. “Sure,” she says drowsily.
    Before long we all are curled up with our heads on our paws. One by one, we shut our eyes.
    I run down the field, kicking the ball with my hind paws. I’m running upright, like a human, as are the other cats. I approach the goal — and there is an actual goal now, with a net — and give a swift, hard kick. Sid lunges to block it. I think,
Wait, she’s on my team
, but dreams never make sense. The ball is beyond her reach and sinks into the netting. Score!
    The crowd roars. Yes, there’s a crowd. My teammates hoist me up onto their shoulders and carry me around the field. We won the game. We are the champion soccer cats of the world!
    “We are the champions!” we chant. “We are the champions!”
    “Hissy?” Sid says. Her face is right over mine. Stars are twinkling behind it. “You’re shouting.”
    I lift my head. The other cats are lying on the grass, glaring at me. I guess I woke them.
    “Sorry,” I say. “I was dreaming.”
    “That’s okay,” says Sid. “Since we’re all awake, let’s get back to the game.”
    The others grumble, but slowly rise to their feet,stretching and arching their backs. I’m still on the ground.
    “Come on, Hiss,” Sid says, nudging me.
    The sleep felt good. I need more of it.
    “Leave me alone. I want to sleep.”
    She nudges me again. “We need you, Hiss. You’re the best pouncer on our team.”
    She’s right, of course.
    “Oh, all right.”
    I’m such a pushover.
    I climb to my feet and stretch.
    “What’s the score?” Martin asks.
    We all laugh.
    “Still tied,” Igloo says. “Zero to zero.”
    “Play ball!” Sid cries.

23.
Before the Madness
    The second half is much like the first. Plenty of leaping and head butting, but very little ball movement. As the night wears on, we grow tired and testy. We growl and snarl and swat more. Especially me. This has been a fun distraction from my problem, but it is still there: I need sleep.
    Wait. It’s the middle of the night. There are no sounds of hammers or lawn mowers. There are few automobiles on the roads. No garbage trucks, no school buses. It’s quiet. The humans are in their beds all over town.
    The hunting instinct isn’t as strong now. Maybe it’s because I’ve worn myself out playing this game. I’ve exhausted all desires. I’m beyond bone-tired. I’m brain-tired. Heart-tired. Skin-tired. Paw-tired. I’m tired from the tip of my sliced ear to the tip of my ringed tail.
    I walk away from the scuffle.
    “Hissy!” Sid yells. “What are you doing? Where are you going? The game’s not over. It’s still tied. We need you!”
    “Maybe you do,” I say, “but I need some sleep. I’m heading home.”
    “I need sleep, too,” says Schmookie.
    “Me, too,” Quiche says.
    Pretty soon everyone, including Sid, has quit the game.
    “We’ll call it a tie,” she says with a yawn.
    We all nod, then walk away toward our homes — or, in Sid’s case, toward her boat.
    “Wait up, Hiss,” Igloo says, running after me. “That was fun, right?”
    “It was,” I say. “Thanks.”
    “My pleasure. I hope you can get some sleep before the family starts waking up.”
    I think about this. Zeb is usually up first, and once he is, the whole house is up, including me. Then comes the getting ready for school and work. Zeb always refuses to cooperate. He makes a big fuss, tearing around the house,