Sofiane, the Cat and the Saucer

Writing a short story for a young public

On the way back, Sofiane found a small kitten. Sofiane is my best friend. We've known each other since we were little because we live in the same building and go to the same school. Now that we're in sixth grade, we walk home by ourselves, taking a shortcut through the park because we like to stop at the swings. That afternoon, we were fighting over the leftovers of my snack when we heard little cries behind a bush of prickly flowers. Sofiane wanted to go see, I didn't really want to, but I followed him because friendship is sacred. When he came out of the bushes, he was holding a small ball of fur in his arms, and I realized I should have finished my cookies before following him because the cat looked hungry, and I would have to share again.

Sofiane had slipped the kitten into the sleeve of his jacket and was cradling it like my little sister Lilou does with her stuffed animal, which we can never wash and that smells like cheese. He walked without really watching the road, giving the kitten Eskimo kisses and talking to it as if it understood French. But when we arrived at the housing complex, he told me he couldn't keep it because of his dog, who looks friendly but had already eaten a mouse without chewing it, so it wasn't safe for Kitty, who looked like a big red mouse. He added that I should take it. I didn't dare tell him it wasn't a good idea because Lilou was allergic, and even though she annoyed me sometimes, I didn't necessarily want her to die. Sofiane was still my best friend, and I could see it would make him happy if I said yes.

We came up with a sort of plan. Mom would open the door because today is Tuesday, and Lilou was at her "swimming dolphin" class with Dad (it's for four-year-olds who can't swim), and Sofiane would pretend he desperately needed to pee. So desperate he couldn't make it up to his apartment on the fifth floor; it was "urgent," he would say to Mrs. Clothilde. He would rush to the toilet next to my room where we would meet to think about the next part of the plan.

It went more or less as planned until Kitty decided to start vocalizing, and since suffocating it with a pillow wasn't an option, we had to quickly think of a solution if we didn't want Mom to barge into my room with the angry eyes of someone who would punish you for the rest of your life. Sofiane said, "Is it in pain?" and I said, "Maybe it's thirsty?" And since we didn't have any cat medicine, we thought we'd try giving it something to drink. So I went to the kitchen and told Mom I wanted a glass of milk, and she looked at me like I'd asked for the moon because I don't usually like milk, but she gave it to me anyway. In the hallway, I grabbed a plant saucer because I figured the cat couldn't get its head into the glass without getting stuck, and that would cause even more problems. Back in the room, I didn't have time to put the saucer of milk on the floor when I heard the front door open, and my little sister shouting, "Leo! (That's me). Look! I passed my dolphin level (it's after the porpoise level, it's still for four-year-olds but for those who can jump into the big pool without drowning)." And that's when I knew we had a bigger problem than the cat's head getting stuck in a glass.

Even though I put up a sign of a guy jumping on a bomb with "NO ENTRY" on my bedroom door, I know no one cares, and Lilou even less because she can't read and thinks the guy I drew is trampolining (I'm not very good at drawing) and that he looks like he's having fun. We had three seconds before she burst in.

The only place to hide Sofiane, a cat, and a saucer was the closet, already full of smelly shoes and my rugby gear that I haven't used for at least a year but kept because you never know, as Mom says, I might want to go back despite the broken pinky last time. So when Lilou, brandishing her certificate, told me she was grown up now, I clapped loudly to cover the noise Sofiane, the cat, and the saucer were making in the closet that was probably too small for all of them. And then my little sister quickly left, remembering that Mom also deserved to see her piece of paper, luckily because at that moment the closet door opened as Sofiane was about to vomit into the cat's saucer, which had half-spilled on his pants. He didn't look well and said meanly that it smelled better in the garbage chute than in my closet!

I told him to take off his shoes to see if his feet didn't smell too, and if he wasn't happy, he could take Kitty as an appetizer for his big dog, who must have bad breath too if he ate mice...and then we looked at each other and said at the same time, "Where is that darn cat?"

We ran to the kitchen where Mom was cooking dinner, Dad was watching Mom cook dinner, and Lilou was watching...the cat, who was watching the chicken Mom was cooking. The chicken, however, wasn't looking at anyone. And when I saw my sister's little mouth open wide, I knew we were really in trouble and should have let the cat get its head stuck in the glass.

But surprisingly, Lilou's scream (Daaaaddy!!!!) scared Kitty, who escaped through the window left open by Mom because the hood Dad fixed still didn't work since he's a computer scientist, not a hood repairman, as he often says. Dad said there might be another window open and hurried to check while Sofiane said the chicken smelled good. I really thought the story would end like that, but from my room, we heard Dad swearing because he'd tripped over a plant saucer that had no business being there and had stained his new loafers. So with a frog in my throat, I asked if Sofiane could stay for dinner because friendship is for better or worse, and when the plan is a bust... for the worst.