Domino (2 page)

“That was quick,” Mom said when she greeted them at the door. “Take your soggy stuff off in the hallway and then come in for hot chocolate.” Mia and Carmen tromped on the doormat as they pulled off their jackets. Dad gave Mom a kiss as he passed.

“Not so fast, mister.” Mom poked Michael in the shoulder before he could slip by. “Let me see this kitten.”

Michael laughed as he unzipped his jacket. He lifted the tiny kitten and handed him to Mom.

“Oh, I love black-and-white cats. That’s what we always had when I was a kid.” Mom touched her nose to the kitten’s. His whiskers quivered as he let out a little meow.

“No fair!” Mia cried when she saw Mom holding the kitten. “You said I could hold him first.”

“No, I didn’t,” Michael said, “I said you and Carmen could hold him at home. Let Mom have a turn.”

Mia sighed. Then she perked up. “Then how about if I get him some food?” She flashed a winning smile at Mom. “I bet he’s hungry.”

“That’d be great, sweetheart.” Mom followed Carmen and Mia into the apartment.

Out in the hallway, Michael unlaced his boots. He knew exactly what Mia was doing. She was trying to be extra helpful. It was a smart move. The more she did to take care of the kitten, the better their chance was of keeping him. But there was one thing she hadn’t noticed yet. That new
blue collar. There wasn’t a name tag or an address, but the collar was proof that someone cared about this kitten. It didn’t matter how helpful Mia was. She couldn’t change the fact that this kitten probably already had a home.

When Michael walked into the apartment, he was surprised to see Mia and Carmen sitting at the table, drinking hot chocolate. Neither of them was holding the kitten.

“Where is he?” Michael asked.

“In the kitchen. Eating. Mom told us to leave him alone until he’s done,” Mia said. Carmen nodded as she licked whipped cream off her lips.

Michael headed for the kitchen. The Battellis always fed their foster cats in a private little nook by the refrigerator. The kitten’s nose was in a metal food bowl, and his tail pointed straight up.

“I know
you
know to leave the kitten alone while he’s eating,” Mom said. Michael guessed she’d had to remind Mia. Mom poured hot chocolate
from a steaming saucepan into a mug and handed it to him.

“Yup.” Michael took a sip of cocoa. His mug said “Dine on a Dime Diner” in faded red writing. It was his favorite mug, and the hot chocolate was delicious. He could feel its warmth all the way down into his stomach. “Did you notice the —”

Mom nodded. “The collar. I did. That complicates things, doesn’t it?”

The kitten lifted his head to look in Michael’s direction, still crunching a mouthful of kitty chow. For such a small kitten, he made a loud sound. The kitten closed his eyes and buried his head in the bowl again.

“I’ll wait at the table,” Michael said. “You coming?”

“In a minute,” Mom said.

“Okay. Just don’t play with the kitten while he’s eating,” he called over his shoulder as he headed to the family room.

“Very funny, Michael,” Mom said.

Michael was laughing to himself when something flashed by his feet. He jerked away and spilled hot chocolate on the floor. “What was that?”

“It’s the kitten!” Mia cried.

The kitten tore through the family room. His tail streamed behind him like a racing flag. He swerved around a door and disappeared. Then the scampering sounds stopped.

“He’s crazy,” Carmen said.

“He’s hilarious,” said Mia.

“Where is he?” Mom asked as she handed Michael a dish towel.

“In your room,” Mia said.

“Oh, that can’t be good.” Mom strode across the family room.

Whoosh!
The kitten sprang from behind the door, dashed through Mom’s legs, and slid to a stop right at Michael’s feet. His front paws splashed into the spilled hot chocolate. The kitten lifted his foot and gave it a shake, then looked at Michael as if to say, “Now what is
that
doing
here
?”

What a funny face! Michael cracked up, and so did everyone else. Mia jumped up from her chair and ran over to the kitten.

“What’s all the commotion?” Dad asked as he came into the room. “Did the cute kitten grow into an eight-ton elephant?”

“Don’t be silly, Daddy,” Mia said. “A kitten would never grow into an elephant. You should have said black jaguar. That would have made more sense, except he still wouldn’t be eight tons. Male jaguars are usually around one hundred twenty pounds. But they can get up to three hundred.”

“Thanks for the advice, Mia,” Dad said. “I’ll try to keep my jokes within the species next time.”

Michael shook his head. With Mia around, they all had to be careful with cat facts, especially facts about wild cats. She read entire cat encyclopedias as bedtime stories.

Mia pulled the kitten into her lap. He was licking the hot chocolate off his paws. Michael wondered what the kitten’s owner would think about their letting him have the sugary treat.

“So what do we do now?” Michael asked. “Should we make some posters to see if anyone lost a kitten?”

“No, not yet!” Mia said. She held the kitten closer, and Michael could tell she had finally spotted the collar.

“I haven’t even gotten to hold him,” Carmen said.

Michael paused. “But he’s wearing a collar. His owner is probably worried about him.”

“A collar, huh?” said Dad. “Interesting. But you know what? It’s snowing again. And it’s not supposed to stop anytime soon. Any poster we put up
now would be a wet, drippy mess within a matter of minutes.”

“Maybe we should wait until tomorrow for posters,” Mom agreed. “In the meantime, we can call Wags and Whiskers and see if anyone has reported a lost kitten.”

Wags and Whiskers was their local veterinary office. Dr. Bulford, the vet, was always helpful when the Battellis had foster cats. “I can call,” Michael offered. Just as he was about to go to the kitchen to pick up the phone, the kitten toddled out of Mia’s lap. He trotted over to Michael and meowed.

The kitten swatted at the frayed strings hanging off the cuffs of Michael’s jeans. Michael couldn’t believe how playful this kitten was. What trouble would he get into next?

Scratch, scratch, scratch.

The next morning, Michael turned over and covered his head with a pillow. It was a long weekend, and he loved sleeping in.

Scratch, scratch, scratch.

He sat straight up. The kitten! Michael jumped out of bed and grabbed his sweatshirt. As he reached for the doorknob, his bedroom door creaked open. The kitten’s nose appeared. Then his skinny body squeezed through the crack.

“Hey, little cat.” Michael lifted the kitten with one hand, held him up to his chest, and scratched him behind the ear. The kitten grabbed Michael’s hand with both paws and gave his finger a nibble.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Michael said, tapping the kitten’s nose. The kitten swatted at Michael’s hand.

The kitten nipped at Michael’s hand again and looked him in the eye. Michael knew the kitten didn’t mean to hurt him, but he was definitely trying to tell him something.

“Okay, okay. I’ll put you down,” Michael said. “Are you hungry, little cat? I’m starved.” He put the kitten down and headed to the family room.

Everyone else was already up.

“It’s still snowing!” Mia announced when she saw Michael. “No lost kitty posters today!”

Michael nodded and sat down.

“That’s the good news,” Dad said. “The bad news is it’s not just snow. It’s a blizzard. We’re stuck inside until it stops.”

Michael groaned. “I was supposed to go sledding with Jackson.” He took a bite of cold cinnamon toast.

“Well, not today,” Mia said. “Not in this wind and snow.” Sometimes Mia liked to act like she was Michael’s big sister. Michael guessed she was in one of those moods today.

The kitten came trotting down the hall. He batted a strip of paper from paw to paw. “What’s he playing with now?” Mom asked. “This pesky guy already got locked in the pantry, and he’s been into the trash twice.”

Michael laughed. “It’s just an extra strip of paper from my rocket project.” Michael had finished the frame for his rocket after sledding the day before. Once the papier-mâché dried, he would paint it.

“Can we name him?” Mia asked. “We can’t just keep calling him ‘the kitten.’ ”

“You’re right, Mia,” Mom said. “I need to know
what name to yell the next time he attacks my ankle.”

Michael laughed. The kitten did seem to enjoy nipping at people’s feet. He was only playing, and it didn’t hurt.

Everyone agreed that the kitten needed a name, but no one could agree on one. Mia suggested Snowy, and Dad suggested Bliz, short for Blizzard. “How about the Nipper?” Mom said, but Michael just shook his head. None of them seemed right.

“Let’s do something fun while we think,” Dad said. “We’re stuck inside for the day, so let’s make the best of it.”

Mom looked up from a gardening catalog. “I am doing something fun,” she said with a smile.

“How about dominoes?” Dad said it like a question, but he was already opening the game cabinet.

“Yes!” Mia yelled. She loved family game time as much as Michael loved sleeping in. “Can we use the marbles, too?”

“I don’t see why not.” Dad pulled several boxes from the shelf and put them on the wood floor. Instead of playing a traditional game of dominoes, Michael’s family liked to set up long rows of black-and-white dotted tiles, then use the marbles to set off a chain reaction. When one domino fell, it knocked into the next, until all the dominoes were falling one by one. It was fun to watch the dominoes fall in a long, snaking line.

The kitten jogged over and gave the box a good sniff. “Someone will have to make sure our curious little friend doesn’t knock anything over,” Dad said.

“I will!” Mia pulled the kitten into her arms.

Mom, Dad, and Michael got to work, standing up dominoes on their edges, one right next to the other in a long chain. Domino by domino, the track grew. It snaked around the leg of the dinner table, then split in two. One path headed toward Mia’s room and ended in a giant spiral. The other curved toward the couch.

Every once in a while, someone would suggest a name for the kitten, but Michael would just shake his head. The name had to be cute and playful, but it also had to be cool, like the kitten. Blackie wasn’t right. Neither was Spot. Michael also said no to Pinky Paws, Mr. Tuxedo, and Wilbur.

Dad was the domino king. He was fast but precise as he set up the tiles. Near the end of one long line, he carefully constructed stairs out of wooden blocks. The dominoes climbed the steps. The very last domino tile at the top was rigged to bump a marble when it fell. Then the marble would roll down a series of ramps and land on a cymbal with a clang.

Mia usually loved to help Dad, but that day, Michael noticed, she seemed happy to sit and watch, holding the kitten. Unfortunately, the kitten did not want to be held. He was busy trying to nuzzle his way out of Mia’s arms. “No you don’t, little kitty,” she said. “You need to stay put.” The
tiny cat’s whiskers twitched as he watched the building action. His eyes were bright and his ears stood straight up.

“How you doing, buddy?” Michael went over to rub the kitten behind the ear. The kitten swatted at his hand. “Hey, take it easy.” Michael pulled his hand away.

“We’re almost ready. I just have to make sure everything is lined up,” Dad said.

As Dad double-checked the curve leading to the marble ramp, the kitten watched. His pink nose twitched. His ears seemed to quiver. Then, with a giant arching leap, he jumped out of Mia’s lap. “No!” she yelled. But she was too late.

The kitten landed on all fours, still moving fast. Dad gasped. Michael turned just in time to see
the kitten skid right into the line of dominoes, which collapsed in both directions. A wild clatter filled the room as dominoes spiraled down, one after the other. The kitten jumped to his feet and followed the long line of falling tiles, racing after the action. Finally, the last dominoes climbed the wood-block stairs. The marble fell, and the clang of the cymbal rang out. Then the room grew quiet.

Everything was still. The kitten nudged a fallen domino with his paw. He leaned in and sniffed the black tile and then suddenly jumped back. His tail shot out and his hair stood on end as he stared at the dominoes.

The kitten looked at Michael with wide eyes and let out a confused meow. Michael started to laugh, and the rest of his family joined in. The kitten jumped back again, looking around the room.

Dad sighed. “Too bad I didn’t have my camera ready. I would have loved to have a video of that.”

“It was cool,” Mia said, “and the kitten sure did like it.”

“He sure did,” agreed Michael. “And now I know the perfect name for him.”

“I’ve got to put you down, Domino,” Michael said. “I have a game tonight, and I have to find my lucky socks.”

Domino really was a great name for the kitten. He was black and white, just like the tiles, and he was lots of fun. Plus, he had learned his new name quickly. He already came running whenever anyone called him. That morning, the day after the blizzard, he had scrambled into Michael’s room as soon as he’d heard his name.

Michael had petted him for a while, but now he put the kitten on the floor and rummaged through his drawer. He pushed the black dress socks he never wore to the back and sorted all the sports socks: white ones with blue toes, extra-long white
ones, gray with red-and-black stripes. Michael sighed. His lucky socks with the three green stripes were not in the drawer. He couldn’t remember the last time he had played a game without those socks, and now he couldn’t find them. He had looked everywhere. He had even emptied his gym bag, but no luck.

Michael grabbed a plain white pair and sat on his bed to put them on. The kitten scampered over to watch. Domino’s eyes were bright as he watched a loose strand of elastic dangle from the hem of one sock. When Michael pulled on the sock, Domino stood on his back legs and batted at the elastic string. Michael reached out and stroked the kitten from head to tail. “Thanks, Domino.” If the kitten was trying to help Michael forget about the missing socks, it worked.

The lucky socks were really nothing special, except that they had been from Gramps. The day Michael had gotten them, he and Gramps had gone to the basketball court in the park — the
one that still had its nets. Michael had worn his new socks and made seventeen free throws in a row.
Swish.
Michael thought it had to be the socks, but Gramps said it was in his genes. “Not jeans like your pants,” Gramps said, “your genes, like your family.” Both Dad and Gramps had played hoops in college.

Now Domino bit down on the elastic of Michael’s plain white socks and started to back away. The elastic pulled tighter until Domino let go. It sprang back with a snap.

“Hey, cut that out,” Michael said, rubbing his ankle. Domino looked at Michael and then lowered his head and licked his paw.

“You are too cute,” Michael said. He knew Domino’s real family had to be missing him. They
were probably worried sick. He bet that Domino was missing them, too. “We’ll check with the vet again tomorrow and see if she can help. I promise.” When Michael had called the vet’s office the day before, nobody had heard about a missing kitten. But Dr. Bulford had urged him to bring Domino by as soon as he could, and now that the blizzard was over Mom had made an appointment.

“Michael, you coming? It’s your game, after all.”

Michael shook his head. Dad always said that when Michael was running late.

“Coming!” he called. He stuffed his basketball gear back into his gym bag. Domino trotted after him as he headed toward the door.

“Have a good game,” Mia said. She looked up from where she was sitting on the floor with a fashion-design craft kit.

“Aren’t you coming?” Michael asked.

“Maybe later with Mom. I’m staying here with Domino for now. I’m going to teach him how to sit up for a treat.”

Michael grabbed his jacket, and Mia kept talking.

“He’s so smart. I bet I can teach him lots of tricks. Then we can have friends over and he can do a whole cat circus act.”

Michael took a deep breath as he zipped his jacket. Someone had to remind Mia that they were only fostering Domino. “He already has a family, Mia.” Michael tried to say it as gently as he could.

Mia didn’t answer. She just glued some sequins on her art project. Michael headed for the door. He didn’t want to make a big deal out of the fact that Domino would probably be leaving soon, but he worried that it was going to become a big deal no matter what.

Jackson slapped Michael on the shoulder. “It was a good comeback,” he said.

Sure,
thought Michael. Except that they’d still lost the game. The locker room after a losing game was never a fun place to be.

“Not good enough.” Michael shook his head. He sat hunched over on a bench, looking down at the floor.

“Maybe next time you’ll remember to wear your lucky socks.”

Michael sighed. The last thing he wanted to do was admit to Jackson that the socks were missing. Especially after Jackson had done everything he could to win the game. “That was a great last shot,” Michael said.

“Yeah. We just needed one more possession. Next time.”

Michael nodded, his eyes still on the floor. He usually was the one cheering up Jackson after a tough loss. This time, Michael was pretty sure it was his fault. His passes had been sloppy, and he just couldn’t keep up with the other team’s point guard. Defense was usually his strength. He knew he was distracted. He couldn’t stop thinking about Domino.

“Next time,” Jackson said again.

“Yeah,” Michael said. Maybe his luck would change, even without the lucky socks. The next day he and Mia and Mom would take Domino to the vet. Maybe she would help them find Domino’s people. And who knew? Maybe they would discover that whoever owned Domino was looking for a new home for the black-and-white kitten!