“No problem.” Papi pats Señor Norberto on the back, flips over the CLOSED sign, and locks the door.
“What do you think, Norberto?” Tío Diego asks. “Doesn’t Miguel need a pet? Especially since the poor child doesn’t have any siblings.”
Señor Norberto peels off his Yankees cap and points it at Papi. “A cat will keep the disgusting mice away,” he says with a shudder.
“Well…” Papi looks at Mami. “Maybe it can stay for a night, and we’ll see how things go.”
Mami nods. “Only if we get rid of the fleas.”
CHAPTER 3 Loner Cat
Uh-oh. I’ve heard the word fleas before. It makes humans turn up their noses and shove me out the door. When the man called Papi puts a bucket of foamy water in front of me, I don’t know what’s going on. Then Miguel holds me close and whispers into my ear.
“Don’t worry, gatito. We’re gonna get you all cleaned up.” He lowers me into the bucket slowly, back paws first.
I pull my paws up and yelp, “No! Stop! I’ll drown!”
Miguel doesn’t listen. “Sh-sh,” he says. “Don’t screech, little guy. This will feel good—I promise.”
The whole time he’s talking he puts me deeper into the bucket. The water is warm and feels soothing against my burning skin. But it’s still water, and that’s never a good thing. Miguel doesn’t seem to understand that, and I can tell he isn’t going to stop. I let my body go limp, close my eyes, and wait for this torture to end.
Miguel combs the itch out of my head and behind my ears so, so gently. Hmm, even though it’s water, this doesn’t feel bad. For now.
“You need a name, gatito,” Miguel says as he wraps me in a fluffy towel.
Papi clucks his tongue. “Don’t get attached, hijo. He might not stay.”
“We have to call him something,” Miguel says.
“What about Lobo?” says the man with the baseball hat. “That way he’ll be a fearless hunter of mice.”
“But wolves are dogs,” Miguel says. “And he needs a sophisticated name now that he’s clean and elegant-looking.”
Miguel stops rubbing the towel on me. I wipe my head with my paw to make sure I’m dry. I feel great now that I’m warm and not running for my life. This Miguel is pretty wonderful.
I lick his hand.
“Aw, he’s so loving!” The older man in the chair clutches his chest.
“I know.” Miguel holds me close. “And brave too.” He looks into my eyes and rocks me in his arms. “Hey, I have a great name for him! Lord Lovey Dubby Lobo!”
Huh?
“¿Lo-lo qué?” asks the older man.
Miguel laughs. “That’s brilliant, Tío Diego! We’ll call him Lolo for short. What do you think, Lolo, does that sound better?”
I blink at Miguel. I think he’s giving me a name. Lolo. That feels nice, and it sounds like a song. Okay then, I’ll allow it.
“He seems like a sweet cat,” says the older man, Tío Diego. “You should keep him.”
“I’m telling you,” the baseball hat man says. “You need him for rodent control.” He trembles like a frightened mouse.
Mami and Papi look at each other.
“Let’s see what the vet thinks,” Mami says. She places two bowls on the floor. “Are you hungry, little Lolo?”
As soon as Miguel puts me down, I pounce on the delicious-smelling bowl and gobble up every bit of the fishy paste. Then I slurp up some water from the other bowl.
My belly is full and my skin doesn’t itch anymore. I should be okay when Miguel puts me back on the cold sidewalk. But I don’t want to go out there again.
“He needs a bed.” Miguel leaves the room and comes right back with an empty box. He stuffs a pile of blankets inside and puts the box in front of me. “What do you think, Lolo? Do you like your bed?”
I stare at the comfy-looking box, not sure what to do.
The door jingles, and I bolt to a dark corner. If I hide, the humans won’t be able to toss me outside.
I watch as Tío Diego stands and leans on the baseball hat man. Together they step outside.
Papi waves and says “hasta mañana,” then closes the door.
“Where did Lolo go?” Miguel looks around.
He gets down on his hands and knees and calls out, “Lolo, come back! It’s okay!”
I hear the smile in his voice, so I tiptoe out and creep toward him until we’re nose to nose.
