Whiskers Together

On a bright, breezy morning, a cat named Saffron stretched in the little cobblestone courtyard. His fur was the color of toasted bread, and his tail curled like a question mark. His whiskers went twitch-twitch. He liked to go places on his own, eager to see what was over, under, and behind.

Saffron slipped through the garden gate with a soft hop. He padded past tomato pots glowing red, under a clothesline where blue jeans flapped like slow birds, and near a cart that smelled like warm bread and sweet apples. He climbed a low wall and walked along it, careful and proud.

On the wall ahead sat another cat, a small gray one with bright, thoughtful eyes. She sat very still, as if listening to the sun.

"Morning," Saffron said.

"Morning," the gray cat said. "I am Bluebell."

"Do you like adventures?" Saffron asked.

Bluebell blinked. "Sometimes. I like quiet places too. The roof is nice when it is warm."

Saffron’s whiskers twitched again. "I like roofs. And gates. And the tops of carts. And—"

Tink-tink.

Both cats lifted their ears.

Tink-tink. Then a small, shaky mew.

"Did you hear that?" Saffron whispered.

"I did," said Bluebell, already slipping from the wall. "Come."

They followed the tiny bell sound to a garden shed tucked beside a fence of tall sunflowers. The door was shut. Under the shed was a narrow, dark, and dusty space. Two bright eyes blinked in the dark. A little black-and-white kitten was wedged inside, her paw tangled in a loop of string.

"Help," the kitten mewed. "I’m Dot. I came to chase a feather. Now I can’t move."

"We can help," said Bluebell softly. "Hello, Dot. I am Bluebell. That is Saffron." She lay down so her nose was close to Dot. "You are very brave."

Saffron crouched. The gap was too small for him to wriggle in. He tapped the string with a careful paw, but he could not reach. He spotted a rattly watering can blocking the space further down and nudged it away with a clunky scrape. He moved a clay pot too. "More room," he said.

Bluebell flattened herself and slid into the space. Her whiskers brushed the dust. "It’s a knot," she murmured. "Hold very still, Dot. Breathe slow."

Saffron kept watch. A brown dog named Pickle poked his nose up at the fence. "Woof?" he said, curious and loud.

"Not now, Pickle," Saffron said in his friendly-strong voice. He plucked a red rubber ball from under a bush and batted it with a thump. It bounced once, twice, then rolled along the path. Pickle’s eyes lit up. "Ball!" He trotted after it with happy snorts and a wag-wag tail.

"Almost there," Bluebell called. "Dot, can you wiggle your toes?" The tiny toes wiggled. "Good. One, two, three—out."

Dot squeaked. The string slipped, and Bluebell gently tugged it free. "You’re loose," she said.

Dot tried to crawl forward, but she stopped, trembling. "It’s dark. I’m scared."

Saffron looked up. A soft green scarf was swaying from the clothesline, one end trailing close. He sprang lightly, caught the tail of it, and tugged it down. He slid the scarf under the shed and made a snug, soft pathway. "Hold on, Dot," he said. "Follow the tickle."

Bluebell nudged Dot’s shoulders while Saffron pulled very slowly. Out came Dot, dusty and wide-eyed and safe. Bluebell licked Dot’s ears. Saffron patted her tiny back with a careful paw.

"Where is your home?" Bluebell asked.

Dot looked at her collar. A little tag shaped like a yellow house gleamed. "I live by the bakery," she said. "It smells like cinnamon."

"We know the way," said Saffron.

They walked together along the sunny path. They crossed a shallow puddle by hopping on three flat stones. Saffron showed them how to hop. Bluebell kept close so Dot felt brave. They passed the apple cart and the blue jeans and the tomato pots. They passed Pickle, who was busy guarding his ball.

At the bakery door, a girl with flour on her fingers gasped. "Dot!" she cried. She scooped Dot up and kissed her nose. "Thank you, cats!" She set down a tiny saucer of cream and a crumbly bit of fish pie. Saffron and Bluebell shared, neat and polite.

When the girl went inside, the three cats sat on the warm step with happy bellies. Dot purred until her bell went tink-tink-tink.

"Will you go on more adventures?" Bluebell asked.

"Oh yes," said Saffron, and his tail curled like a question again. "I like going alone. But I like going with you too. You notice different things."

Bluebell’s eyes shone. "You run fast. You make space. You are brave."

"We are brave together," Saffron said.

Dot blinked up at them. "Can I be brave with you sometimes?"

Bluebell and Saffron touched noses with Dot. "Sometimes," they said.

The wind smelled like bread and clover. Two big cats and one small one sat a minute more. Then Saffron and Bluebell stood and stretched. They touched tails, just once, like a quiet promise. Then Saffron trotted toward the garden gate, and Bluebell leaped to the roof. They each glanced back and smiled with their eyes, glad for the day and glad for a friend when a bell goes tink-tink in the world.