Young Fredle - Louise Yates [69]
Just where Patches was, Fredle didn’t know, and he wasn’t about to move until he did. How long that would be, he couldn’t guess. However, before he had located the cat, he heard Sadie clicking into the kitchen and saw her go to her water bowl to drink. “Sadie!” he called, in the loudest whisper he could manage. “Sadie!”
Dogs have fine hearing. Sadie lifted her head and looked around. “Fredle?”
“Over here, under here.”
She found him easily. “What are you doing?” she asked, not even lowering her voice. “Inside, I mean, and here, too, now. Why are you under our table? The baby is sick,” she told him. “The baby is very sick.”
“I saw them carry her out.” Fredle could understand why Sadie sounded so sad. Her job was to take care of the baby and now the baby was sick. With the baby gone, she didn’t have a job.
“Everyone had loud voices, so I went under the bed. They ran around. When I’m under the bed I’m not in the way,” Sadie explained. “But I think I should have come down. Angus came down.”
“He went outside through the door,” Fredle told her.
“Being under the bed doesn’t make the worry stop,” Sadie told him.
“I’m sorry, Sadie.” Fredle didn’t blame her for being upset. He didn’t know what the humans would do with a dog who didn’t have a job.
“It’s nicer to be worried with someone.”
“What will your new job be?”
She was surprised. “Am I having a new job? Will I be good at it?”
Fredle spoke in a gentle and sympathetic voice, reminding her, “They’ve taken the baby away.”
“Is somebody else going to take care of the baby? Is Patches? Angus has to be trained and win ribbons in shows and herd sheep, so he can’t do it. But I do a good job. Missus says.”
Fredle was about to explain about went, and being sick and being pushed out, but he heard Patches padding softly toward them and scurried to safety underneath Sadie’s stomach.
“Is that that mouse? That Fredle?”
“He’s talking to me,” Sadie said.
From his safe position, Fredle pointed out, “You’ve already eaten two mice. You can’t be hungry.”
“You should go away, Patches. You make Fredle worry.”
That was certainly true.
Patches said, “You can’t hide him there forever.”
“Oh,” said Sadie. “He’s right, Fredle, I can’t. I’m sorry.”
Fredle wasn’t sure what might happen next if he didn’t speak up, so he spoke up. “We could walk together over to the stove, you and me, and when we get there I could get behind it, where Patches can’t reach me. Then I could wait with you, and worry with you, too, without being went.”
It was a good idea, so it was what they did.
Patches watched this operation, and yawned. “What good does worrying do?” he asked. “What good does worrying do either one of you?”
“I can’t help it,” Sadie answered.
“Cats know better than to worry,” Patches said.
When Fredle had settled himself safely behind the metal mass of stove, Sadie lay down close beside it and Patches went back to wherever cats go. From the narrow space behind the stove Fredle could see Sadie’s brown-and-white fur, and he could also see flowers in a glass on the table, tall yellow flowers among their green leaves. He knew he should go back to the nest, but he didn’t want to stop seeing colors, not yet. Soon enough he would be back in the dim gray light.
From outside, Angus barked. “Sadie? Sadie, can you hear me? They took the baby.”
“I’m in the kitchen!”
“They took the baby in the car.”
“I’m waiting inside!” barked Sadie.
Fredle tried to think of something to cheer Sadie up. “Maybe they’ll get another baby and you can have the job of taking care of that one.”
“But I already have this one. I can’t take care of two.”
“But they took this one away,” Fredle reminded her. Sadie really was forgetful.
“But they’re going to bring her back. After the vet fixes her.”
“The baby’s sick, Sadie. Sick things don’t come back. They