The Necromouser and Other Magical Cats by Mary E. Lowd

Author:Mary E. Lowd [Lowd, Mary E.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Mary E. Lowd

In only a week, Sweet Tooth doubled in size. The Red-Haired Woman repotted the Venus flytrap into a glazed green pot, much larger than the terra cotta one. Sweet Tooth looked much more comfortable with a little more room.

That night, Shreddy came out to feed his pet plant and found the Venus flytrap missing. The glazed pot was empty. Then Shreddy heard crunching from the direction of the dog bowls.

A trail of fresh potting soil led from the glazed pot, across the counter and down to the dog bowls. Dirt clung to Sweet Tooth’s mess of thin roots, but its clamshell leaves chomped happily on the full bowl of kibble.

At first, Shreddy was delighted. The whole sight was hilarious—Cooper and Susie would have been incensed if they could see a Venus flytrap eating their food. As Sweet Tooth finished off the second bowl, however, Shreddy decided that things had gone too far. The Red-Haired Woman would surely notice if the dog bowls were completely empty, and she couldn’t possibly miss the potting soil all over her counter.

Grumpily, Shreddy snapped at the funny plant, “Get back in your pot!”

Sweet Tooth’s clamshell head turned to look at Shreddy, almost guiltily. The green clamshell leaves with their sharp, spiny teeth opened and closed a few times before finally forming the word, “Hungry.”

Shreddy was startled that Sweet Tooth could talk, and he felt strangely bad about the idea of sending his pet plant back to its pot hungry. “You’ve eaten all the dog food,” he said. Shreddy looked around the kitchen, but there wasn’t much to offer Sweet Tooth. The cupboards were mostly filled with cans and boxes of useless, uncooked pasta. “All of the good food is in the refrigerator.” He gestured toward the giant white box with his nose. “And I can’t open it.”

“Open.” Sweet Tooth’s voice was high and reedy, but eerily commanding.

Shreddy didn’t like being commanded. He was no dog.

“Can’t,” Shreddy growled. He also didn’t like to admit weakness, but opening the refrigerator was something he simply couldn’t do. He had tried. When he was a kitten, he’d scrabbled at the heavy, white door with ineffectual claws. Kittens have less pride than cats.

While Shreddy glowered, the hungry Venus flytrap clambered across the linoleum floor on its many dirt-clad roots. It came to the Monolithic Trove of Taunting and lifted its foremost roots to feel the impenetrable white surface. The dirty tendrils roved over the clean flat front of the refrigerator until they came to the edge. Suddenly, Sweet Tooth reached with more of its roots, pushing itself root-first into the crack at the edge of the refrigerator’s door.

Shreddy had clawed at that door. It didn’t budge. He expected Sweet Tooth’s efforts to be equally fruitless. He began to laugh at the little plant, but he had to swallow his chortles—Sweet Tooth may have been no larger than a kitten, but its roots had leverage that Shreddy’s claws hadn’t.

The door popped open.

Shreddy’s eyes widened.

Holy catnip. The refrigerator was open.

Thinking of catnip... The refrigerator was where the Red-Haired Woman kept it.

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