School had let out a week before. There had been one full, glorious week of sleeping with Jacob till we felt like rising. Often it was closer to lunchtime than breakfast when we got up. That day Mom shook Jacob awake at six-thirty. Since I was sleeping draped across his stomach, this meant that I, too, was awakened. And, I might add, from a nice dream in which I defurred the tail of a very obnoxious squirrel.

"C'mon, Jake. You're not going to sleep the summer away, you know."

Jacob sat up, yawning. This dumped me onto the mattress, feet in the air. I yawned myself, showing a much more impressive tongue and set of teeth, if I do say so myself. Jacob grinned, and waved a hand over my face. "Phew. Dog breath." And exactly what kind of breath was I supposed to have, I wondered. "Ten more minutes?"

"It'd turn into thirty, and you know it. Get up. Your Dad is taking you and Jessie to the park this morning, remember?"

"Yeah!" Jacob hopped out of bed now, energized by the thought of the trip. "We're gonna have a picnic, and there's gonna be one of those traveling puppet shows. Jessie should like that."

Mom smiled at him. "I'm sure she will." She leaned over and poked me in the tummy. "Be sure to take Miss Inga with you, and get her to run around some. She's starting to get stout. Doesn't have that wasp waist anymore." She ran her hands down her own waist, and sighed. "And I'm afraid she's not the only one. Maybe I'd better go back on the Swiftfast diet for awhile."

I rolled off the bed and strolled downstairs while Jacob got dressed. Jessie was in her booster seat, eating a bowl of oatmeal. She greeted me cheerfully, and offered me a spoon. I sniffed to be polite, but I really don't care much for hot cereals. There’s a pet door, a flap, at the bottom of the door that leads from the kitchen to the laundry room, and I pushed through it. My food and water dish sits in the little corner between the washer and the outside wall. Good, fresh water. I lapped up a bit, getting rid of my morning drymouth. Then I checked my food bowl. *sight* Same old kibble. It had a nice enough flavor, but it got rather monotonous. Perhaps they'd buy liver and bacon the next time, rather than lamb and rice. I crunched down a few bites, just on general principals, then went back into the kitchen to see if I'd have better luck.

And so I did. Jacob had oatmeal, but he also had a couple of slices of well buttered toast, sprinkled with cinnamon-sugar. Very tasty, indeed. I succeeded in wheedling almost half a slice.

Meanwhile, Dad was busy filling a large picnic hamper. More than half a dozen sandwiches: ham, peanut-butter, and tuna. Deviled eggs, some sardines, cookies, one thermos of milk, and one of fruit punch. Oh, and carrot and celery sticks, but who cares about them? I didn't mind the idea of going on a picnic at all. I was sure we could work out some compromise about the running around.

After breakfast, Dad got Jessie into a fresh green sun dress. She looked a little like a dandelion, with her silky gold hair swirling over the green. I got dressed, too. Dad buckled on my collar. It's stylish red leather, and the tag reads 'Miss Inga, Grimaldi Family, 1750 Terrill' and their phone number. I hated the thing at first, but I came to understand that it was necessary, in case the family ever got lost, and I needed to find them.

Dad buckled Jessie into the back seat, while I scrambled into the front with Jacob. I stood on my hind legs and braced my front paws on that round thing so I’d have a better view. Before I could fully survey the area, though, Dad came and pushed me over. "Move Inga, you’re too short and too young to drive."

The children laughed at this, though I didn't see what was so funny. After all, I was over forty in dog years, and I couldn't help it if I'd been born with short legs, could I? I forgot my hurt feelings when we started to move, and Jacob rolled down his window.

I got on his lap and thrust my head out the window. into the breeze. My eyes squinted against the rushing wind, and my ears began to flap. My nostrils quivered. So many different smells streaming past... It was heaven. Vaguely, I once again wondered why I enjoyed this so much, when someone blowing in my face drove me crazy.

We arrived at the park, and Dad did his ritualistic grumbling about having to pay to park in the lot as he dug change out of his pocket. He was wise enough not to unbuckle Jessie until he already had the basket, blanket, and other odds and ends unloaded. She would have disappeared, just as Jacob did. I was torn about abandoning the lunch, but I really couldn't resist following him. I even managed a respectable run in my effort to keep up. A wiener dog at full gallop is a noble and impressive sight.

He was at the chinning bars, as I'd expected. He was determined to do something called 'chin ups'. This seemed to involve hanging at arms length from an overhead pipe, sweating and occasionally trembling. I positioned myself near his dangling sneakers and watched.

He spent some time hanging there. The muscles in his arms trembled now and then. Finally... his sneakers... lifted an inch. Jacob's teeth were gritted, and his eyes were squeezed shut. I hadn't seen him concentrate that hard since he tried to contact Santa Claus telepathically and ask for a Game Boy.

Slowly his arms flexed, elbows bending. He strained, chin thrust upward, neck taut. I could feel the urgency, and I began to get excited. I had to move. Since I couldn't leave, I began to chase my tail in a circle. Jacob was making little grunts of effort, and I answered with encouraging yaps. At last, with a tremendous heave, he tucked his chin OVER the bar.

In the next second his arms gave way, and his teeth clicked as his chin bounced off the bar on the way down. He sprawled in the dust, looking a little dazed. I rushed over to administer an emergency face washing, whining with concern. It wasn't serious, though. He grabbed me and hugged me tight, laughing. "I did it, Inga!" He pumped one fist in the air, a gesture most young male humans seem to use when they are feeling full of themselves. "I did it! I am aaaw-some!"

He got up, dusting himself off, and we went in search of Dad and Jessie. Dad had found a shady spot right beside the play area. He had the blanket spread, and was comfortably seated with his back against a tree, scribbling on the notepad he always carried. Jessie was in the sandbox, busily burying one of her dolls.

Jacob stood before his father and cleared his throat. When Dad looked up, he struck a pose like those lumpy, shiny men in teeny bathing suits I sometimes see on television. Dad immediately grinned. "You did a chin up, didn't you? Darn, I wish yo'd have told me. I would have liked to have seen it."

Jacob swaggered back and forth. "Oh, it wasn't much. Wait till I can do ten, then I'll show you. I bet I make it by the end of the summer."

"Well, don't overdo it. You're too young to need deep heating ointment."

Jacob joined Jessie in the sandbox for a little while, making her laugh by pretending that Bugs Bunny was tunneling up, looking for that 'left turn at Alberquerqe.' Then he pushed her on the swings, and spun her on the turn around. I became dizzy trying to follow them, and had to go lie down beside Dad. Where do children get all that energy?

I entertained myself by sniffing the picnic hamper, sorting through the delicious smells. *sniff snuff* Hmmm, he’d gone heavy on the mayonnaise, but that was fine with me.

The kids were on a teeter-totter now. Jacob was sitting far in on his side to make the balance more even, and they were jouncing up and down happily. Suddenly, though, Jessie leaped off her seat at the bottom of her teeter. Since there was no weight to balance him, Jacob dropped to the ground. Hard. I think his teeth clicked again.

In any case, it was quickly evident why Jessie had abandoned her play so suddenly. She sprinted toward a nearby bush, shrieking "Kitty! Kitty!"

I looked around. Where?

The bush rattled and rustled, as if something unseen was hastily climbing it's branches. Dad and Jacob went over to see what was going on. I followed. Family safety is my number one priority, and if there were any unidentified animals around, I was interested.

"Daddy, there's a kitty inna tree," Jessie trilled. "Get me the kitty. Pretty please?"

"Probably just a squirrel." Jacob declared.

Dad peered deep into the branches. "No, I can see its eyes. Those are definitely cat eyes. But he's probably wild, honey. And you scared him pretty bad, yelling like that. Cats don't like loud noises. He'll probably never come out, and I'm not reaching in there. I don't want to end up getting either tetanus or rabies shots."

"But Daaaaddy..." Jessie's rosebud lower lip trembled, and her blue eyes seemed to double in size. She’s almost as good at that look as I am.

"Daddy nothing. Come back to the blanket. Maybe it'll decide to come out if we leave it alone. Then.... well, we'll see."

My family walked back to the tree, but I stayed put, peering into the shadows of the bush. There did seem to be something back in there. Deep inside, I saw two shiny spots of green-gold. Curious now, I sat up and pushed my aristocratically long nose in for a better look.

There was a hiss, and something white darted out and stuck a needle into my nose! I tumbled over with a yelp, then beat a hasty retreat to the family. My poor nose hurt almost as much as it did the time I sniffed some clover and discovered bees. "Snake!" I told Jacob. "Don’t go near that bush! There's a hideous albino snake with glowing eyes in there. I have sacrificed my life..."

"Aw, poor ol' Inga got her nose scratched." Jacob took a napkin and dabbed a bead of blood off my nose. Scratch? No, I was bitten, I told them. Bitten by a huge, vicious reptile that...

"See what you get for poking your nose where it doesn't belong, Nosy Rosy?" Dad didn't sound the least concerned that I was poisoned, cut down in my prime. Dad, ever prepared, got out a tube of antiseptic cream he kept handy for the almost daily scrapes that accompany childhood. I protested, mostly on general principal I admit, and he said, "Oh, hush. Let that get infected and you'll need a shot, and that'll really give you something to yelp about."

To tell the truth, the ointment was soothing. The sting dropped to a slight ache, and there was no more blood. I went cross-eyed for a moment trying to inspect the damage. Yes, it was a scratch rather than a puncture. It seemed I was going to live. I was so glad. I would have hated to miss the picnic. Dad's deviled eggs are an absolute dream. He adds that yummy canned deviled ham to the stuffing.

I spent the next hour or so guarding the basket while the children played. Dad jotted in his notebook, working on his current project. Every now and then he thoughtfully paused to scratch behind my ears. All in all, it was a pleasant morning.

Except that I was worried about Jessie. She was showing signs of obsession. Every few minutes she'd stop what she was doing and squat to peer into the bush. She'd hold out her hands and call out "Kitty, kitty, kitty?" in a soft, sweet tone that I'd never heard her use for anyone but me. Luckily her only answer was an occasional rustle.

Finally it was lunch time. Dad distributed the food. He'd even brought along a sandwich bag of my dry food, which I ignored. Let some squirrel have it later, there was plenty of food in that basket for me, too.

Halfway through her peanut butter sandwich, Jessie said, "Daddy, the kitty's hungry. Can I feed him?"

Dad likes to talk tough sometimes, but he really has a heart as big and soft as a Texas sized marshmallow. "You can try, baby. He may not come out. Just be careful."

Jessie picked up an oily, drippy, smelly sardine and carried it close to the bush. She waved it tantalizingly at the bush, cooing "Here, kitty. Nice fishie." Then she put it on the grass, stepped back, and sat down.

For a moment there was no response, and I began to relax. I'd get the sardine now. That was pretty much the rule. If it hit the ground, it was mine.

But then there was a movement in the branches. The twigs trembled, tracing the path of something descending. Jessie drew in a breath, but didn't squeal, as she obviously wanted to.

At last a small, furry, triangular face peeked out. It had a white chin, with a streak going up between huge greenish eyes. But the ears and top of the head... It looked like he was peering out from behind a black hood. Just as I'd thought, obviously a bandit.

The outlaw stared at Jessie, then looked at the sardine. Then at Jessie. Then at the sardine. His whiskers bristled forward, his ears flickered rapidly. I heard an agitation in the bush behind him, and later realized it was from his tail thrashing. Again he looked at Jessie. He gave a faint, questioning "Rrrhowhr?"

"It's okay, kitty. That's for you. I won't grab you, I promise."

Slowly, fraction of an inch by fraction of an inch, the cat eased out of his shelter and crept toward the sardine. I'd never seen such a scrawny, unkempt animal. Mom now refers to him as a 'pre-Technicolor cat. You know, black-and-white.' His underbelly, chest, and feet were dingy white, his back and tail were solid black, and his legs had spots of varying sizes. A nice enough pattern, if you like that sort of thing. I much prefer my more sophisticated black-and-tan color scheme.

I expected him to dart, snatch, and run, so I was gearing up to give chase. Jacob picked me up, though, saying, "No you don't, Inga." I remembered the throb in my nose, and decided the cat was just lucky that someone was holding me back. Or was it that I was lucky...?

Instead of darting, the cat crouched down beside the sardine and ate it with a quick precision I couldn't help but admire. When he was done, he walked over to Jessie, climbed into her lap, and began licking and nibbling her fingers.

"I'll be darned," Dad marveled. "I would have sworn that cat was as wild as the wind. Here, give him some more."

The cat tensed as Dad approached, but must have seen that he was bearing fish, and decided to stay. Dad sat beside Jessie, offering the open tin. Not bothering to get up, the cat gobbled down the rest of the sardines, then polished off every drop of oil. At the finish, he made a noise that can only be described as a belch. This brought laughter from everyone. Except me. An entire can of sardines, and I didn't get one filet, one fin, one scale! I did not like this situation at all.

After spending a ridiculous amount of time washing his face and paws, he climbed out of Jessie's lap and marched over to Dad. Hesitantly, Dad reached down to pet him. The little beast arched upward, balancing briefly on his hind legs to thrust his head up to meet Dad's hand.

Encouraged, Dad picked him up, gingerly. Oh, this was going from bad to worse. He snuggled into the crook of Dad's elbow, then busily started to work his paws against Dad's arm. It reminded me of how Dad kneaded dough when he made bread. At the same time, the feline squeezed his eyes into narrow slits of contentment, gazed up at Dad, and said, "Purrrrr..." It sounded like a small aircraft taking off. I sighed, knowing what was coming.

"Can we keep him, Daddy? Pretty please with sugar on it?" Jessie’s voice was just as coaxing as it had been when she called the cat.

"Yeah, Dad. He looks like he needs a home." Et tu, Jacob?

Dad was tickling him under the chin. The kitten was stretching his neck out, eyes closed in feline bliss. "I don't know..." Oh, yes he did. He'd made up his mind the second that little con artist went to him. "I don't think your Mom would mind. Do you think it would be alright with Inga?"

No! Definitely not. Nyet, nope, nah, nein...

"Sure Dad, she won't care," Jacob said stoutly. That boy was going to do awful in foreign languages.