“Where’s the cat?” my mother wanted to know.
“I don’t know,” answered my sister Marge.
“It better not be in your room.”
“It’s not,” Marge insisted.
“Come out here in the hall and talk to me!”
My sister ran into the hall. A suspicious bulge on the right leg of her pajamas appeared.
“You don’t have the cat?” my mother’s voice grew angrier.
Just then, a wagging cat tail appeared from under the pajama leg. The cat meowed. From the look on my sister’s face, I’m guessing the cat’s claws dug into my sister’s leg. She insisted, “The cat is not in my room.”
Well, now. The jig is up!
My mother grabbed the cat away from my sister’s pajama leg and brought it downstairs. I went back to my room and muzzled my laughter for quite some time.
The cat mysteriously disappeared one day. This happened soon after it had jumped on the table and eaten my father’s chicken dinner while he was out working overtime.