Karen's Kittycat Club

  For Jennifer Esty —

  a big sister

  Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

  1 Karen Two-Two

  2 Cats and Dogs

  3 Pat the Cat

  4 The Kittycat Club

  5 Kristy’s Club

  6 Bring Your Cat!!!

  7 Cats, Cats, Cats

  8 Karen’s Cat-sitting Service

  9 We Are Cat-Sitters!

  10 Two Best Friends

  11 No Jobs Yet

  12 Fighting

  13 The Kittycat Club’s First Job!

  14 Back to the Big House

  15 Go Home!

  16 Help!

  17 No More Kittycat Club

  18 Sad, Glad

  19 Karen and Nancy

  20 The Fun Club

  About the Author

  Also Available

  Copyright

  Karen Two-Two

  This year, in second grade, my teacher read a very funny book to our class. I liked it a lot. The book was called Jacob Two-Two Meets the Hooded Fang.

  My name is Karen Brewer. But sometimes I think it should be Karen Two-Two. Why? Because of all the twos in my life. The biggest two is my two families. That’s right. I have two families. So does Andrew. He’s my brother. I am six and Andrew is four.

  Andrew and I have two families because of our parents. A long time ago, our daddy was married to our mommy. Then they got divorced. Daddy married a woman named Elizabeth. She’s our stepmother. After that, Mommy married a man named Seth. Mostly, Andrew and I live with Mommy and Seth. But every other weekend, we live with Daddy and Elizabeth. Two houses, two families.

  Mommy and Seth’s house is little. The only people who live there are Mommy, Seth, Andrew, and me. Oh, and Rocky and Midgie. But they’re not people. Rocky is a cat and Midgie is a dog.

  Daddy and Elizabeth’s house is big. It’s gigundo. Which is a good thing, because a lot of people live in the big house: Daddy, Elizabeth, Andrew, me, Charlie, Sam, David Michael, and Kristy. Oh, and Boo-Boo and Shannon. Boo-Boo is Daddy’s fat, mean cat. Shannon is David Michael’s puppy. She is sweet and fluffy and playful. I love Shannon. But Shannon loves David Michael more than me. That’s because she sees David Michael more than me.

  Charlie, Sam, David Michael, and Kristy are Elizabeth’s kids. They are my stepbrothers and stepsister. Sam and Charlie are really old. They go to high school. David Michael is seven, just a little older than me. Kristy is thirteen.

  So, two houses, one big and one little. Two families, one big and one little. And two of lots of other things. Since Andrew and I go back and forth between our houses so often, we each have two pairs of sneakers, two pairs of jeans, two bicycles (well, Andrew has two tricycles), two teddy bears, and more. I have two stuffed cats, Moosie and Goosie, and two pieces of Tickly, my special blanket. We keep one of each thing at the little house, and one at the big house. That way, we don’t have to pack a lot of stuff when we go to Daddy’s or Mommy’s.

  Karen Two-Two. Andrew Two-Two.

  But there is one thing I do not have two of — and I wish I did. That is my stepsister. Kristy is really great. I wish I had another sister just like her at the little house. Kristy is my friend. She plays with me. She reads to me. She talks to me. I love Kristy so, so much.

  Kristy also takes care of me. She is a baby-sitter. She and her friends have a club called the Baby-sitters Club. It is very cool. The girls meet three times a week, and they get baby-sitting jobs. They earn lots of money. Sometimes the girls in the club have sleep-overs. Or parties. I wish I could be in a club like Kristy’s. But how do you start a club? Anyway, I’m not old enough to baby-sit. Yet. Someday I will be. Then I will join the Baby-sitters Club.

  I looked out my bedroom window. I was at the little house. Andrew and I were waiting for Mommy to drive us to the big house. We were going to spend the weekend with Daddy and Elizabeth and Kristy and all our brothers.

  We could not wait. Weekends at the big house are fun. Something exciting usually happens. Once my friend Hannie and I had a scary adventure. Once I broke my wrist. Sometimes Daddy takes everybody for a drive, or we go to an amusement park.

  “Karen!” Mommy called. “Andrew! Time to go! Get your knapsacks!”

  “Hurray!” I shouted.

  “Hurray!” shouted Andrew from his room.

  We clattered down the stairs.

  We were on our way to the big house!

  Cats and Dogs

  Saturday morning is the best, best time of any weekend at Daddy’s. That’s what I think. I wake up in my room at the big house, and the day stretches ahead of me. And I know I’ll go back to sleep that night in my room at the big house.

  I try to make Saturdays as nice as I can. That Saturday, the day after Andrew and I went to Daddy’s, I put on my lucky rabbit’s foot. I fastened it to my belt loop. My rabbit’s foot is orange and fuzzy. But it is not as fuzzy as it used to be. That’s because I pat it so much the fur is coming off.

  Maybe I should have been wearing my rabbit’s foot the day I fell roller-skating. If I had been wearing it, I might not have broken my wrist. But I did break it. I had to go to the hospital and get a cast and everything. It was exciting. Well, it was exciting at first. After awhile, the cast was boring. I could not go roller-skating or ride my bike or anything. But guess what? The cast is gone! Dr. Humphrey took it off two weeks ago. My wrist is all better.

  After I put on my rabbit’s foot, I put a lucky stone in my pocket. Then I tied my favorite purple ribbon in my hair. I was ready for Saturday.

  “Good morning! Good morning, everyone!” I called as I ran downstairs.

  “Good morning, Karen,” five voices answered.

  I found Daddy, Elizabeth, David Michael, Andrew, and Kristy in the kitchen, just beginning their breakfasts. Shannon and Boo-Boo were eating, too. Shannon was eating on the floor near the dishwasher. Elizabeth had spread about three thousand newspapers under her dishes. Shannon makes a gigundo mess when she eats.

  Guess where Boo-Boo was eating? Up on the counter. My friend Hannie thinks that’s gross, but we have to let Boo-Boo eat there. Shannon is just a puppy. So she’s a big tease. Sometimes she pesters Boo-Boo while he’s trying to eat.

  In case you’re wondering, Shannon is a Bernese mountain dog. She’s black and white and fluffy. She’ll grow up to be a pretty big dog. Boo-Boo is a gray tiger cat. He’s old and fat and mean. I hardly ever play with Boo-Boo. He doesn’t play much anyway. Mostly he sleeps or scratches people.

  Rocky, Seth’s cat, is much nicer than Boo-Boo. For one thing, he is young. I think he is only about a year old. Maybe a little more. And he is polite. He does not scratch people. He does not scratch other cats. Rocky is pretty, too. His fur is orange-y, and he licks it a lot to keep it sleek and clean. Midgie, Seth’s dog, is a mutt. But that’s okay. He’s a nice little dog, even if we don’t know what kind he is. Andrew loves Midgie. Sometimes, when we’re at the little house, Midgie sleeps on Andrew’s bed.

  Boy, are Andrew and I lucky to be two-twos. This way, we have four pets.

  I thought about that after I had finished my breakfast. I went outside and sat on our front steps.

  Nancy Dawes is my best friend at the little house. She lives next door to us. She does not have any pets at all.

  Hannie Papadakis is my best friend here at the big house. Hannie and her brother and sister have two pets. They have a poodle named Noodle and a turtle named Myrtle. Myrtle is not much fun, but Noodle is.

  Amanda Delaney is a friend who lives sort of across the street from the big house. She and her brother have one pet, a cat named Priscilla.

  “Karen! Karen!” a voice called just then.

  It came from acro
ss the street. It was Hannie Papadakis, my big-house best friend. She sounded very excited.

  Pat the Cat

  “What is it?” I shouted.

  I stood up. I saw Hannie running across our lawn.

  “Guess what? Guess what?” she called.

  I began jumping up and down. That was how excited Hannie was making me. “I can’t guess. Tell me,” I cried. “Tell me quick!”

  Hannie slowed to a stop. She could hardly catch her breath. “We,” she began, and then she had to start over. “We — we got a kitten!”

  “A kitten?! Oh, Hannie. You are so lucky!”

  “Linny and I have always wanted a cat,” said Hannie. Linny is Hannie’s older brother. He’s eight. He and David Michael are friends. Hannie is seven. We’re in the same class at school. (I skipped first grade.) Sari, Hannie’s little sister, is just two.

  “What did you name him?” I asked.

  “Her,” Hannie corrected me. “She’s a her. And her name is Pat.”

  “Oh!” I exclaimed. “So when she’s all grown up she’ll be Pat the cat.”

  “Right,” replied Hannie. “Pat the cat, Noodle the poodle, and Myrtle the turtle.”

  “Three pets,” I said.

  Hannie nodded proudly.

  I could not help thinking again about how lucky Andrew and I are to be two-twos and have more pets than any of my friends. Maybe that wasn’t a nice thing to think, but I thought it anyway.

  “Karen, come over and meet Pat,” said Hannie.

  “Okay,” I replied. I stuck my head in our front door. I told Daddy and Elizabeth where I was going. Then Hannie and I ran to her house.

  “Pat is on the sun porch,” Hannie told me. “We put all her stuff there. We put her toys and food and litter box on the floor. We spread out an old sweater for her to sleep on. I think she feels safe on the porch. She’s too little to go roaming around the house.” (Hannie’s house is as big as Daddy’s.)

  Hannie and I tiptoed through the door to the porch.

  “She might be asleep,” Hannie whispered.

  We checked the sweater. No Pat.

  “Sometimes she hides,” said Hannie.

  We peered under the chairs and tables. No Pat.

  Then something furry brushed against my ankle. I looked down. There was a fuzzy black kitten. She was carrying a toy in her mouth.

  “Aw, Hannie,” I exclaimed. “Look at her! She’s so cute.”

  Hannie grinned. She and I tossed Pat’s toy around for her. While we were playing, I thought of something.

  “Hey, Hannie,” I said. “It’s neat that you have a cat.”

  “I know. Pat is our very first one.”

  “But there’s something even better. Now you and Amanda and I all have cats,” I pointed out to her. “We have Pat, Priscilla, and Boo-Boo. And Rocky at the little house.”

  “Yeah,” said Hannie. She didn’t sound too interested. I guessed that was because she doesn’t like Amanda very much.

  But I was interested. Hannie and Amanda and I live right near each other. And now we all have cats.

  “Look!” said Hannie. “Look what Pat can do.”

  Hannie held up a piece of string. She dangled it above Pat. Pat leaped up on her hind legs. She batted at the string.

  I began to giggle. “Pat’s dancing!” I cried.

  Hannie laughed, too.

  We let Pat dance until she got tired. Then she lay down on the sweater and fell asleep. Just like that.

  “She’s so cute,” I said to Hannie. I think I had already said that about three thousand times.

  “Yeah,” agreed Hannie softly.

  “I better go,” I told her. “It’s lunchtime. I’ll see you later.”

  “Okay,” replied Hannie. “See you!”

  I left Hannie’s house.

  I was getting an idea.

  The Kittycat Club

  This was my idea. Hannie and Amanda and I all had cats. That meant we had something in common. And since we had something in common, we could start a club. We could start a cat club.

  Let me see. What could we call it? The Cat Club? The Cat-Lovers Club? The We ??Cats Club? The … the Kittycat Club! That was it! It sounded great. The name was perfect. No, it was purrfect. (Get it?)

  I was so excited that I began to run. I ran to our front steps and flopped down on them. I thought for awhile.

  The Kittycat Club.

  What would we do at our club meetings? I mean, what would be the reason for having the club?

  Three people, three cats … Hmm.

  Maybe we could learn about cats. We could learn where they came from and how their insides work and how they meow and purr. But no. The more I thought about that, the more boring it sounded. We’d probably just have to look up a lot of stuff at the library. I wanted our club to be more fun. And I wanted our cats to come to the club meetings. Cats would not be allowed in the library.

  Maybe we could teach our cats tricks. Priscilla knows how to shake. And Pat is young. She could learn lots of tricks. But not Boo-Boo, I thought sadly. Boo-Boo is too old and fat and grumpy to learn tricks.

  I was sitting on the steps with my chin in my hands. I had run out of ideas.

  “Hey, there!” said Kristy. She came out of the house and sat down next to me. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m thinking about the Kittycat Club,” I told her. “Hannie got a kitten. Now she and Amanda and I all have cats. I think we should start a cat club. The Kittycat Club.”

  “But Hannie and Amanda don’t like each other,” Kristy pointed out.

  “I know. Maybe they could learn to like each other if we were in a club, though. I think it would work. I really do. I just don’t know what our club would be for. And I don’t know how to start it. Tell me about the Baby-sitters Club. Please, Kristy. Please? How did you start it?”

  Kristy sighed. “Okay,” she said. “But it’s a long story. Let’s go inside. We’ll get our lunches and take them in the backyard. We’ll have a picnic. And I’ll tell you how I started the Baby-sitters Club.”

  Kristy’s Club

  Kristy and I went into the kitchen. Another good thing about Saturdays is lunchtime. We have several names for Saturday lunch. One is “Smorgasbord.” One is “Every Man for Himself.” One is “Fantasy Food.” What it means is that we put practically all the food in the house out on the kitchen table. We put out bread and mustard and mayonnaise and cheese and cold cuts and pickles and olives and peanut butter and jelly and fruit and salad and potato chips and pretzels and carrot sticks and celery sticks and juice and milk. We can eat whatever we want.

  Each week, Sam makes a Dagwood. A Dagwood is a gigundo sandwich. In between the slices of bread he piles ham, bologna, cheese, pickles, potato chips, and lettuce. Sometimes he adds gross stuff like leftover meat loaf. Once he put in three olives.

  I always have the exact same lunch: an apple, a celery stick with peanut butter spread in it, some potato chips, and milk. That is a very wonderful meal.

  I put my lunch together and waited for Kristy. She was making a peanut butter and banana sandwich. She said that I would not throw up if I took a bite of it. I didn’t believe her.

  At last we were ready. Kristy and I carried our lunches outside. We did not spill one thing.

  “Here’s a good spot,” said Kristy.

  We sat on the ground in front of an oak tree. We balanced our plates in our laps.

  “Now tell me about the Baby-sitters Club,” I said. Then I remembered to add, “Please.”

  Kristy smiled. “I thought you were going to say, ‘Now tell me a story.’ ”

  “No, tell me about your club.”

  “All right,” said Kristy. “Well, it’s really a business. I started it when I saw how hard it sometimes was for Mom to find a sitter for David Michael. She would have to phone lots of people, looking for someone who was free to baby-sit. So I thought it would be great if a mom or a dad could make one phone call and reach several baby-sitters at the same time. O
ne of the sitters would probably be free.”

  I nodded.

  “So I got together with some of my friends. We decided we would meet three times a week. Then when parents needed sitters, they could call us during our meetings.”

  “How did they know when you would be meeting?” I wondered. (I was getting another idea. I needed some important information.)

  “We advertised,” said Kristy. “We made up fliers.”

  “Fliers?”

  “You know, little posters. We took a piece of paper and wrote down all the information about our club. Things like when we meet, how old we are, what we do, the number to call to reach us. Then we made lots of copies of the paper. We left the fliers in people’s mailboxes. We also put an ad in the newspaper.

  “People really paid attention to the fliers,” Kristy went on. “Right away, they started calling us. We got lots of jobs.”

  “You did?” I said excitedly.

  “Yup. Now we’re very busy. So we run our club in an official way.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We elected a president — that’s me — a vice-president, a secretary, and a treasurer. Everyone has a job. We think it’s the best way to run the club.”

  “Hmm. A president and stuff. That’s neat,” I said. I bit into my celery. It crunched nicely. KER-RUNCH!

  Kristy bit into her apple. It crunched, too. KER-RUNCH!

  We smiled at each other.

  I could not wait to get to my room. I had big plans.

  Bring Your Cat!!!

  Kristy and I finished our lunches. We carried our plates back to the kitchen. Then I ran to my bedroom.

  “Moosie,” I said to my stuffed cat, “are we ever going to be busy! We need to make two invitations. And they have to be really good.”

  In my room are a table and four chairs. They are just the right size for me and Andrew and David Michael. Everyone else in the house is too big for them. Even Kristy.

  I put Moosie in one chair. I found my crayons and some plain paper. Then I sat down next to Moosie.