Dodging Billy

Ooohhhh! It was dark in that closet, and I didn’t like being all cramped in among the sheets and towels--and I was hungry. Was this the way to treat a persnickety, pampered, precious cat? No way!

I sat on the top shelf sulking, waiting for someone to find me and let me out. I couldn’t even purr. I was too miserable, and it was all because of that dog. Life was wonderful before he came along. He upset everything--that dog.

Mew! Mew! I whimpered, but no one heard me.

Meow! I tried a little louder, but no one answered.

I didn’t expect Johnny or that dog to miss me, but I thought Jilly would be looking for me. Or Mrs. Rogers would notice that I wasn’t napping on the sofa. Or Mr. Rogers would wonder why I wasn’t curled up on his lap as he watched television.

And then I heard Mrs. Rogers ask, “Where’s Fluffy?”

“I don’t know,” Mr. Rogers said. “I haven’t seen her.”

“Mew! I’m here,” I cried, but Mrs. Rogers didn’t hear me.

And then Jilly started calling me. “Fluffy! Where are you?”

“Meow!” I yelled, but she didn’t hear me either.

“She’s not on the sofa?” Mrs. Rogers asked.

“She’s not under the bed,” Jilly said. “Where could she be?”

Then I heard Johnny tell that dog, “We can’t find Fluffy. Do you know where she is, Billy?”

And that dog--do you know what he did? He started barking--that same noisy arf-ing sound he made when he was chasing me. And it got louder and louder! He was right outside the closet. Then he started scratching at the closet door. That dog was trying to tell the Rogerses that I was locked in.

Will they pay attention to him? I wondered.

Friday: Will they understand what Billy is trying to tell them?

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Marilyn Gould likes to write about her pets. Her book, “Golden Daffodils,” has a cat named Pickles that is a lot like Fluffy. This story will be on The Times’ Web site at www.latimes.com/kids.