Catboy - Eric Walters [21]
I tossed the first piece, the biggest piece of meat, to King. He pounced on it. It wasn’t that I thought he deserved it, or that I wanted to give it to him, but if I didn’t, he would chase away and swat at the cat that got the first piece. He didn’t care if it was another tomcat or a mother cat or even a kitten. Getting between him and whatever he wanted wasn’t wise. I really didn’t like him.
I scattered bones, buns and pieces of meat on the ground for the others, and they started eating.
“You can come now,” I said. “Just be slow and quiet.”
Everybody had saved bits of their lunches, and the cats were soon treated to an international feast. It was obvious the cats were enjoying the meal almost as much as we were enjoying feeding them.
“See that one there,” I said, “the white cat with the black feet? I call her Miss Mittens. You can probably tell which of the kittens are hers.”
She had four kittens in her litter, and all of them had at least one black paw.
“Is that a Siamese cat?” Jaime asked, pointing at one.
“I think so, or at least part Siamese,” I said.
“Aren’t those really expensive?” she asked.
“I think so, but I guess things happen, cats get lost. There is also a calico cat, a lot of mixes, a Himalayan—”
“That’s a part of India, in the mountains!” Rupinder said. “Which one is that?”
“It’s the one with the long gray fur. It must get cold in the mountains,” I said.
“He is certainly the most beautiful cat,” Rupinder said.
“I know that type of cat,” Mohammad said, pointing out a sleek, thin cat. “It is at least part Abyssinian. They’re from Somalia and the Middle East.”
“I thought he looked like those cats carved onto the walls of the pyramids,” I said. “And if we’re going by nationality, then Alexander should pay particular attention to that grayish blue cat right over there. That one is a Russian Blue.”
“Very nice cat,” Alexander said. He tossed a piece of his lunch at the feet of the Blue. “From one Russian to another. I will give him a Russian name—I will call him Kot.”
“What does that mean?” Jaime asked.
“It means cat, because he is a cat,” said Alexander.
“Hold on, if Alexander gets to name a cat, we all should get to name one too,” Rupinder said.
“Yeah!” Jaime added.
Mohammad and Devon nodded in agreement.
“You can all name two if you want,” I said.
They all cheered and the cats startled before settling back in to eat.
“If Alexander names the Russian Blue, then I want to name the Himalayan,” Rupinder said.
“And Siam is sort of close to China, so the Siamese should be mine to name,” Jaime said.
“Sure, of course,” I said.
“And Mohammad gets that other cat, but where does that leave me?” Devon asked. “Are there any special types of cats from Jamaica?”
“I’m not sure, but how about we find out the way I found out about all the other cats,” I said.
“How did you get to know so much about cats?” Jaime asked.
“It’s like Mr. Spence says, the more you read, the more you know. I’ve been taking books out of the library. Our teacher-librarian, Miss Hobbs, is super helpful. She really likes it when you take out books. She showed me sites on the Internet too. She said reading is reading, whether it’s in a book or on the Internet or on the back of a cereal box.”
“Then I’m reading every morning at breakfast,” Simon said. “Do you think Mr. Spence would let me do a reading journal entry on Cheerios?”
“Give it a try,” I said.
King leaped forward and chased away a couple of the smaller cats, grabbing their food.
“That big cat is such a bully,” Devon said. “If Mr. Spence was here, he’d have a talk with him.”
“I call that cat King, because he runs the place.”
“He’s still a big bully,” Devon said, “and I don’t like him.”
“Me neither,” I admitted.
“Is your favorite cat here?” Simon asked me.
“No, I don’t see Hunter. I call him that because he’s the best hunter,” I explained to the others. “When I do see him, he often has something that he’s caught. Even if he was here, he probably wouldn’t take our food. He’s too proud.”
“Probably too well fed,” Simon said.
“He