Daisy the cat strolled into the living room and went to the bottom shelf of the end table. Mrs. Wiggles kept her knitting basket there. The cat poked the top of the basket with her paws until it opened.
“Daisy,” yelled Bruce. “You know you’re not allowed to touch that.”
“Oh, be quiet, old dog. You never want to have fun. All you do is lay around.” Daisy grabbed a ball of yarn and played with it all through the house.
The yarn unraveled and left a trail over the sofa, under the snack table, and through the dining room. It went on through the kitchen, up the stairs, and in the bedrooms.
“Woohoo!” hollered Daisy. “That was fun!” She pranced back into the living room and onto the sofa.
Bruce sat up. “You’ll be in trouble when Mrs. Wiggles gets home.”
“She’ll have to catch me.” Something suddenly caught Daisy’s attention. “Oh, boy. There’s a package of meat on the kitchen counter.” She jumped off the sofa and bounded into the kitchen. Jumping onto the chair, she leapt onto the counter.
“NO!” screamed Bruce. “Don’t do it. That’s for Mrs. Wiggles’ dinner. Listen to me!”
Daisy ignored the old dog. She tore into the package of meat. As she finished the last bit, she licked her lips. “Yummmm. That was DELICIOUS!”
Bruce shook his head. “That was horrible. Mrs. Wiggles’ doesn’t have a lot of money. She bought that meat to make meatloaf for the week.”
“Ha! I feel like causing trouble today.” Daisy jumped off the counter and raced out into the yard. She glanced over at a pond. “Hey, Bruce. Do you know where that pond came from? I don’t remember ever seeing it.”
“No,” said Bruce as he moved closer to the pond. “It doesn’t look right. There’s a funny yellowish film over it. You’d better stay away from it.”
Daisy walked around the pond. She sniffed it. She dipped her paw in it. “It seems fine. I think I’ll take a drink.”
“Don’t do it! You don’t know what’s in it,” warned Bruce.
Daisy looked over her shoulder at Bruce. She put her mouth just above the water then took a drink.
POOF!
“Oh, no,” said Daisy. “I feel funny.”
Bruce inched toward Daisy. He sniffed her then backed up. “You’re not a cat anymore.”
The hair on Daisy’s back would normally rise when she was scared. Her tail would slink between her legs. But none of that happened.
Daisy looked in the pond . . . a frog looked back. “AHHHHHHHHHH!” she screamed. “I should have listened to you, Bruce!”
