The Kitten Caper

  Contents

  Chapter 1: Furball Farm

  Chapter 2: Mr. Layton Returns

  Chapter 3: Kit-napped!

  Chapter 4: Behind the Blue Door

  Chapter 5: A Suspicious Sneeze

  Chapter 6: A Third Suspect?

  Chapter 7: Caught in the Act

  Chapter 8: The Kittens Are Found

  1

  Furball Farm

  Kitty-cats rule,” eight-year-old Bess Marvin declared. “They’re so fluffy and adorable.”

  “I agree,” her cousin George Fayne said. “Nancy, what’s your favorite kind of pet?”

  Nancy Drew kicked some powdery snow with her boot as the three girls headed down the sidewalk. “Well, Chip is my favorite pet in the whole wide world,” she said. Chocolate Chip was her brown Labrador retriever puppy. “After Chip, cats are definitely number two,” she added.

  “I wonder how many kitty-cats Terry Smith has?” Bess said. “Fifty? A hundred?”

  “A million zillion?” George joked.

  “She would need a lot of cat food to feed that many cats.” Nancy giggled.

  Nancy and her friends were on their way to visit Terry Smith, who lived around the corner from Nancy and her father. Terry rescued stray cats and kittens and took care of them until she could find them new homes.

  The girls had been given a fun school assignment to do during winter break. They were supposed to interview someone with an interesting hobby. Nancy had heard about Terry from a neighbor. She, George, and Bess had decided that Terry would be the perfect person to interview. What could be a more interesting—or important—hobby than rescuing stray kitties?

  Nancy had called Terry last week to set up an appointment to visit her. The woman had agreed right away. Nancy couldn’t wait to meet her and all the kitties, too!

  The girls soon reached Terry’s house. It was lavender with purple shutters and had a big, sloping, snow-covered roof. There was a banner hanging above the front door with a picture of a black-and-white cat and the words MEOW! WELCOME!

  Nancy proceeded to the front door through a heavy blanket of snow, followed by George and Bess. When Nancy rang the doorbell, she could hear a series of chimes inside: Meow, meow, meow, meow!

  “I don’t think Chip would like this place,” Bess whispered.

  A woman opened the door. She had long, wavy brown hair and friendly brown eyes. She wore a colorful patchwork dress, thick purple tights, and matching purple boots.

  “Welcome!” the woman exclaimed. “You must be Nancy, George, and Bess. I’m Terry Smith. Well, my full name is Theresa Aspidistra Smith. But my friends just call me Terry. That’s what you should call me too.”

  “Aspi-what?” George asked her. “It’s a cool name, but it’s hard to pronounce.”

  “As-pi-dis-tra,” Terry repeated. “It’s a kind of plant. My parents studied plants for a living. Me, I like to study things that move around and make noise. Like cats!”

  Nancy reached into the pocket of her parka and pulled out a small notebook and pen. She wanted to write this down as background information for their interview.

  Terry held the door wide open. “You must be freezing cold. Come in! I’m sorry the walk isn’t shoveled. With all my cats to take care of, I never seem to have time to do anything else.”

  Nancy and her friends stomped the snow off their boots and entered the house. In the front hall, they were greeted by a large cat with long, golden fur. The kitty brushed up against Nancy’s leg and meowed loudly.

  “That’s Mr. Wiggles worth,” Terry said. “Those two over there on top of the radiator are Ruffles and Rufus. That’s General Dave racing down the hall. And there are Fanny, Ming-a-Ling, Maud, and Gray Mouse right behind him.”

  There were cats everywhere! Terry continued pointing them out and introducing them to the girls: Baxter, Fairycake Jones, Bonnie Blue, Mrs. Dinnertime, and Blossom. There was even a one-eyed cat called Cyclops, named after the one-eyed beast from the Greek myth.

  “Wow, you have a lot of cats,” Nancy said to Terry.

  “Oh, this is just a few of them,” Terry said with a shrug. “Most of my rescue cats are in the barn.”

  “They are?” Bess said, her blue eyes wide.

  Terry nodded. “Yes. Let me show you the barn. No, General Dave, you can’t go out! Bad kitty!” she said, shaking her finger at a fuzzy gray cat. “This way, girls.”

  Terry pulled on a long, black sweater and headed out the front door. Nancy and her friends followed. Nancy saw that Terry’s sweater had lots of scraggly-looking loose threads coming out of it. It was also covered with cat fur.

  Terry noticed Nancy’s glance. “The cats love this sweater,” she said with a grin. “Whenever I wear it, they sit on me, roll around on me, and use me as a scratching post.”

  “A scratching post! Doesn’t that hurt?” Bess asked her curiously.

  Terry shook her head. “Nah. I’m used to it. I’m even used to having all my clothes look furry and bedraggled.”

  Terry led the girls through the snow-covered yard. Icicles glistened in the December sun. A cardinal perched on a pine branch and fluttered its wings. Otherwise, everything was peaceful and still.

  They eventually came to a large barn out back. It was painted the same color purple as the main house.

  “Here we are!” Terry announced.

  She opened the barn door. Inside it was neither peaceful nor still. Dozens of cats and kittens rushed up to the door, meowing like crazy.

  “Quick, get inside, before the devilish little fiends escape,” Terry said, smiling at Nancy and her friends. The girls obeyed hastily.

  Terry closed the door and turned to them, grinning. “Welcome to Furball Farm!”

  Nancy looked around in wonder. There were cats and kittens everywhere: running around, sleeping on old rugs, eating and drinking out of big bowls. Bags of cat food and cat litter were heaped in one corner. Against one wall were a dozen steel cages, each with a cat curled up inside.

  “Some of them are sick and need to be alone,” Terry explained, pointing to the cages. “Some of them just don’t get along with other cats. They’re kind of like schoolyard bullies.”

  “Where do you find all these cats?” George asked her.

  “Well, for starters, some of them have been abandoned by their owners,” Terry began.

  Bess gasped. “What kind of people would abandon their kitty-cats?” she cried out.

  Nancy pulled her notebook and pen out of her pocket. She wanted to write all this down.

  Terry smiled sadly. “You’d be surprised. People who move away and don’t want to take their cats with them. People who adopt a cat, only to find out that they’re not ready for pet ownership. People who realize that their new cat doesn’t get along with their old cat or dog. The list goes on and on.”

  Nancy glanced up from her notebook. “But why would they abandon their cats? Why wouldn’t they try to find a new home for them?” she asked Terry.

  “That’s a very good question,” Terry replied. “Some people aren’t very smart or responsible when it comes to pet ownership.”

  Nancy thought about Chip. She would never abandon Chip in a million years—no matter what!

  “Anyway, some of these cats were abandoned and became strays,” Terry went on. “Some of them were born from other strays, so they’ve always lived outside. They never knew what it was like to live in a cozy home.” She added, “They come to my door. Or people find them roaming in their neighborhoods and bring them to me. People who know me know that I can’t say no to a stray cat.”

  “So you just keep all of them?” George asked her.

  “I try to find new homes for as many as I can,” Terry replied. “If I can’t find homes for them, they’
re welcome to live here at Furball Farm. The barn has heat, electricity, the works. Or the cats can live in my house, if I have room.”

  Just then, a pair of kittens rushed up to Bess and began sniffing her red boots. One of them was chocolate brown with a dark brown tail and ears. The other one was cream-colored with a pinkish tail and ears. They had identical deep blue eyes.

  “Oh, they’re so cute!” Bess exclaimed.

  “The dark one is Cocoa, and the light one is Creampuff,” Terry said. “I found them last week, hungry and shivering in the woods out back. I think they’re brother and sister.”

  “Awwww.” Bess sat down on the floor. Cocoa and Creampuff immediately jumped onto her lap and began licking her hand.

  “They’re totally adorable,” Nancy agreed. She reached down to pet the brown one, Cocoa. Cocoa gave a tiny meow and rubbed against Nancy’s fingertips. Nancy could feel the little kitten purring happily, like a motor.

  “How old are they?” Nancy asked Terry.

  “I think they’re about three months old, or maybe—” Terry was interrupted by a knock on the barn door.

  “Probably someone with another stray cat,” Terry said. “Come in!” she called out loudly.

  The door opened, and a man walked in. He was tall and big-shouldered, with round pink cheeks. Curly blond hair peeked out from underneath his massive fur hat.

  “Good afternoon, Ms. Smith,” the man said, smiling at Terry. He ignored Nancy and her friends.

  “Hello, Mr. Layton,” Terry replied. She sounded confused. “What are you doing here? I thought-”

  “I came by to see if you’ve had a chance to reconsider my offer,” Mr. Layton cut in smoothly.

  Terry shook her head. “It’s like I told you yesterday. Creampuff and Cocoa aren’t for sale.”

  Creampuff and Cocoa? What was this about? Nancy glanced worriedly at the two little kittens.

  “I’ll double my price,” Mr. Layton insisted.

  Terry shook her head again. “My answer is still the same, Mr. Layton. Creampuff and Cocoa are not for sale.”

  Mr. Layton’s smile froze on his face. His mouth twisted into a snarl. “Then you’re going to be very, very sorry,” he said in a nasty voice.

  2

  Mr. Layton Returns

  Mr. Layton stared at Cocoa and Creampuff, who were curled up on Bess’s lap. Then he stormed out the door. A cold wind gusted in as he left. Nancy shivered.

  A scruffy-looking orange cat meowed loudly at Terry. “Yes, Pumpkin, I know. It’s dinnertime,” she said. She sounded distracted, as though she were deep in thought.

  “What does that man want with Cocoa and Creampuff?” Nancy asked Terry.

  “And why was he so mean to you?” George added.

  Terry lifted a big bag of cat food from the floor and began pouring it into large metal bowls. Cats and kittens swarmed around her ankles, meowing like crazy.

  “That man is Michael Layton. He breeds, buys, and sells fancy cats as a business,” Terry explained.

  Nancy nodded. It made sense now. “And he wants to buy Cocoa and Creampuff from you,” she said.

  “Exactly,” Terry replied. “He came by yesterday and offered me a lot of money for them. But I told him then what I told him just now: Cocoa and Creampuff aren’t for sale.” She added, “I don’t know why he’s interested in them. They’re stray cats, not some sort of special breed.”

  Bess looked up, frowning. “But I thought you wanted to find new homes for all your rescue cats.”

  “I do,” Terry said. “But Cocoa and Creampuff deserve to find a cozy home together with loving parents. There’s a good chance Mr. Layton would sell them to separate owners. Or, even if he sold them to one owner, that new owner could then turn around and sell them to separate owners. The people in Mr. Layton’s world are businesspeople, not cat people. Cocoa and Creampuff need to stay together!”

  Nancy glanced at the two kittens, who were eating some cat food side by side with their tails intertwined. She couldn’t imagine the brother and sister being apart.

  Nancy turned her attention back to her notebook and wrote all this down. The three girls continued asking Terry questions about Furball Farm for the next half hour. Then it was time to go home.

  “Please come back tomorrow afternoon if you can,” Terry said as she bid them goodbye. “From two to four, I’m having a holiday open house here at Furball Farm. It’s a chance for people who might be interested in adopting a kitty to come meet all my little guys. Also, I get a chance to ask people for donations, like cat food and litter and stuff like that.”

  The three girls looked at one another, smiling. “We’ll have to ask our parents first. But we’d love to come!” Bess said. Nancy and George nodded eagerly.

  • • •

  The next day Nancy, Bess, and George arrived at Furball Farm exactly at two thirty. Their parents had given them permission to attend Terry Smith’s holiday open house.

  “It looks like a lot of people are here,” Nancy noted. She pointed to all the cars parked on the street in front of Terry’s house and in her driveway.

  “It would be so cool if they all wanted to adopt one of Terry’s kitties!” George said. She jumped into a pile of snow and jumped back out again.

  “Especially Cocoa and Creampuff,” Bess said. “I really hope they find a good home. I asked my mom and dad if I could adopt them, but they said no. They said maybe one cat, but not two. And Cocoa and Creampuff have to stay together.”

  The girls reached the barn and went inside. It looked totally different than it had yesterday. There were holiday decorations all over the walls: wreaths with red and green kitty toys on them, and garlands made of holly and mistletoe. There was a CD of “Jingle Bells”—sung by cats!—blasting from a portable CD player.

  About twenty or thirty people were milling around the barn. They were talking, petting the kitties, and nibbling on catshaped cookies. Nancy recognized a few of them from the neighborhood.

  “Hello, girls!”

  Terry came hurrying over to Nancy, George, and Bess. She was wearing a long denim dress with sequined cat designs all over it.

  “I’m so glad you could make it!” she exclaimed happily. “Here, have a cookie!” she added, extending a tray piled high with delicious-looking treats.

  Bess took a cookie. “We wouldn’t have missed it for anything!” she replied. “Mmm, this cookie is yummy.”

  “Plus, it’s research,” George said. She pulled a notebook and pen out of her pocket. The three girls had agreed to take turns jotting down notes for their school project. “We thought we might interview some of your guests,” George told Terry.

  “What a great idea,” Terry said.

  Just then, a girl rushed up to Terry. She had long, golden brown hair and was dressed in jeans and a pink top. She looked like a teenager to Nancy.

  “Hey, Terry?” the girl said breathlessly. “That lady over there with the big nose and the weird blue hat says she might want to adopt a couple of cats.”

  “Ella!” Terry whispered. “Don’t insult the guests, okay?”

  The girl hung her head. “Uh, okay. Sorry.”

  Terry sighed. “Girls, this is my assistant, Ella Gurney,” she said. “She works parttime for me after school. Ella, this is Nancy, George, and Bess. They’re doing a story about me.”

  “Oh, wow. Cool,” Ella said.

  “Why don’t you introduce me to the woman with the big—I mean, the woman who wants to adopt a couple of cats?” Terry suggested to Ella. “Excuse me, girls.”

  “Sure,” Nancy said.

  Terry and Ella walked away. “I wonder where Cocoa and Creampuff are?” Bess said, glancing around.

  “You mean Turboslayer and Titan?” a boy’s voice spoke up.

  The three girls turned around. A boy was standing there. He had short, dark brown hair and brown eyes. He was holding Cocoa and Creampuff in his arms. The kittens wore matching red collars with silver bells.

  “Hi, kitties!”
Bess squeaked. She reached over to pet them. “Wait. Turboslayer and Titan?” she asked the boy.

  The boy nodded eagerly. “Turboslayer and Titan are my favorite characters from my favorite comic book and TV show, Destroyers of Doom. That’s what I’m going to name these guys—if my mom lets me adopt them.”

  Then he frowned. “My mom said no the first twenty-four times I asked, though. But maybe twenty-five will be my lucky number.” He grinned, revealing a mouthful of blue-tinted braces.

  Nancy and her friends exchanged a glance. “I’m Nancy, and these are my friends George and Bess,” she said to him.

  The boy introduced himself as Richie Feathers. He told the girls that he was in sixth grade at a nearby private school. He also said that he lived right next door to Terry, on the other side of a clump of trees.

  “Why won’t your mom let you have a cat, Richie?” Bess asked. Nancy could tell Bess felt bad for him.

  “She’s super allergic to cats,” Richie explained. “They make her sneeze and get really watery eyes and stuff like that.”

  Richie paused and smiled confidently. “I’ve been doing lots of research on the Internet, though,” he went on. “I’m trying to find her a cure for cat allergies. Did you know that back in the old days, people used to chew on a piece of honeycomb to cure allergies? Like gum? Maybe that would work for my mom.”

  “Uh, yeah,” George said doubtfully.

  “Excuse me,” a man’s voice interrupted.

  It was Mr. Layton. He tapped Richie on the shoulder. “I need to borrow those felines from you for a second,” he said.

  “Felines?” Richie repeated. “You mean cats?”

  A woman was standing next to Mr. Layton. “My, they’re precious, aren’t they, Michael?” she exclaimed.

  The woman was dressed in a strange-looking fur coat. Bess stared at it, her blue eyes wide. “Is—is that made of cats?” she blurted out.

  The woman gasped. “Of course not! It’s fake fur.”

  “Oh! I’m sorry,” Bess apologized.

  “The felines. Now.” Mr. Layton reached over and plucked Cocoa and Creampuff out of Richie’s arms. The kittens squealed in protest.