It's like this, cat

eau beside my bed, and he sleeps up there. When he wants me to wake up in the morning, he jumps and lands in the middle of my stomac

flection in the mirror. He appears to be taking inventory: "Hmm, buckteeth; sandy hair, smooth in fr

K., black face, yellow eyes, and one white wh

momentarily. He seems to know it's not really another cat, but hi

s. It gets so I can't listen to a record, for the noise of him scratching on the rug. I can't let him loose in the apartment, at least until we make sure Mom

et like it isn't good enough for him. After a while, condescending, he eases down the steps and lies on a su

take a look to see where he's going, and he is pacing slowly toward the backyard, head down, a tiger o

nto one of the other yards. I look around a while and call, but he's not in sight, and I go up to l

come home at night, and he's sitting on the doormat

ou stayed out all

all to the kitchen, where he waits for me to open the

nd he still hasn't showed up when I get back from

over to Twenty-first Street, where he sit and talk to his lady friend. Turned cold last night,

's his friend l

ttle black-and-white cat, sort of belongs

a pretty fair-looking building with a striped awning and a doo

his carton of groceries. This gives me an idea. I'll give the boy time to get started up in the elevator, and

s and bicycles. After this the cellar stretches off into several corridors, lit by twenty-watt bulbs dangling from the ceiling. You can hardly see a

-ow!" Unmistakab

in a shadowy hole. Fortunately his eyes glow and he opens his mouth for another meow, and I see him locked inside o

but something is. It's just a tiny rustle, or a breath, but I have a creepy feeling someone is standing near us. Way down at

n would be way back there, but that's w

mean, he's got locked in one of the

holding it quite a while. I realize he doesn't belo

ler than I am, and I can't see what he really looks like

s a paper clip out of his pocket and opens it out, and I think mayb

w'd you

me how. You better g

hat gives me another creepy feeling. But would a b

r the cat. See y

ound here. Hurry up, bef

get out in the cold April wind, the sweat down my back is freezing. I give Cat a long lecture on sta

didn't really look like a burglar. And he didn't talk "dese and dose." Maybe real burglars don't all talk that way-onl

eer-looking types hanging around this neighborhood," I say at dinner. "I saw a tough-look

e whole thing-about Cat and the cage. But Pop says, "In case you didn't know

r. Even if Pop does make me sore, I'm not going to pas

ding by the back entrance, so I figure I'll try again. I say to him, "Us kids were playing ball h

ur juvenile pals trying to swipe a bike? H

of my own. New. A Raleigh. Bette

bout what I got in

comes of trying to be a big public-spirited citizen. I decide my burglar,

local paper, Town and Village, has a headline: "Gra

Police theorize that the youth may have been the burglar, or an accomplice with a guilty conscience or a grudge, and they are hunting him for questioning. Mr. Snood described him

read the paragraph over and feel green. That's me. I get up and look in the mirror. In other circumstances I'd like bei

But if I want to walk around the street without worrying about every cop, I'll have to do more than that. I put on a shirt and nec

t," I tel

m you nice and neat. Ge

snip on the floor. Then I have to pay for it. At home I get the same routine. Pop lo

ir. Town and Village has a new story: "Nab Cell

The police kept a detective watching Number Forty-six, and pretty soon they see Tom walking along with the stolen suitcase. He drops it inside the delivery entrance and walks on, bu

finally bets him ten dollars, so he does it. He gets out and finds the suitcase has a lot of stocks and legal papers and table silver in it, and he

if they turn him loose, what does he do? It must be l

I look up the name of the magistrate and spend about half an hour poring through the phone book, under "New

Tom R

with the police. It sounds to me like you were only trying to return the stuff and do right. My father is a lawyer, if you would like one. I guess he's pretty good. Or if you would

sinc

Mit

t my black sweater, look disgustedly at the

stoop across the street, where he can watch the ball game and the tame dogs being led by on their leash

ese days?" I yell to him while I'm jo

and scratches his own bald egg. "Whe

I, we get ar