Dewey

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A tiny kitten.

When Vicki the librarian found him the next morning, the kitten was cold and scared and very, very dirty. Vicki took one look and decided to give him a warm bath. The kitten went into the sink brown and crying, but he came out orange and purring.

“I’m going to keep you,” said Vicki, who already loved him.

“We’ll name you Dewey Readmore Books. You can live here and be our library cat.”

But Dewey had no idea what it meant to be a library cat. So he did what all kittens do—he played.

He lounged on the newspaper…

Rode the book cart…

And knocked pens to the floor.

He goofed around with Marty Mouse…

Snooped in every open drawer…

And always found at least one rubber band.

But what Dewey loved most of all was people. Tall ones. Round ones. Quiet ones. Loud ones. The little ones, however, surprised him. And not always in a good way.

“Look, Nathan,” said his mommy.

“There’s a cat in the library.”

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