“Tigger’s missing?” Kristy squeaked when I’d given her the bad news.
“For almost twenty-four hours.”
“Then there’s only one thing to do. I’m calling an emergency meeting of the Baby-sitters Club. Can you be at Claudia’s in an hour?”
“Definitely.”
“Great. I’ll see you there then.”
* * *
The members of the Baby-sitters Club gathered in Claud’s room slightly less than an hour after I got off the phone with Kristy. I couldn’t believe we’d all been able to make it.
We were a somber group. I think that was because most of the club members’ families have at least one pet, so my friends were imagining how they’d feel if their pets were missing. I, of course, was thinking of Tigger. And trying not to cry. I’m a champion crier. Ask anyone in the club.
Kristy got right down to business, and for once I was glad to see her acting in charge, even slightly bossy. “We have a problem,” she said briskly. “It’s not a baby-sitting problem, but it effects one of the members of our club. Tigger is missing, and we have to do something about it. Mary Anne, why don’t you tell us what’s happened so far?”
“Well,” I began. My voice quavered, so I started over again. “Well, when I came to our meeting yesterday, I left Tigger outside. He didn’t want to go in. He’s been outside alone a few times now, so I thought it would be okay. Only … only …”
I had to stop. I couldn’t go on. I looked at the faces surrounding me. Kristy was in her director’s chair, but she wasn’t wearing her visor, and the pencil that was usually stuck over her ear was resting on Claud’s desk. Claudia and Dawn were seated solemnly on the bed, and Jessi and Mallory were on the floor. Their knees were drawn up to their chests, their hands clasped around them, and they were looking at me sympathetically. I was seated in Claud’s desk chair, facing everyone.
I cleared my throat. “Only,” I said again, “when I got back from the meeting, he wasn’t around. Dad and I looked for him outside, but he didn’t show up. And he didn’t show up last night or today. I guess — I guess that’s it.”
“Oh, Mary Anne,” said Dawn. “I’m so sorry.”
“Me, too,” murmured the other girls.
“So what are we going to do?” asked Kristy. When no one said anything, she answered her own question. “We’re going to find him, that’s what. We’re going to pretend Tigger is a missing person.”
“We could put up posters!” said Mallory.
“With Tigger’s picture on them!” exclaimed Claud. “I could draw Tigger.”
“Yeah, and the posters could say something like ‘Lost or strayed. Gray kitten. Answers to the name of Tigger,’” added Jessi.
“We should say more about what he looks like,” said Kristy. “A more complete description, I think. You know, how big he is, how old he is, his markings.”
“And we should put, ‘Last seen on Friday afternoon,’” I spoke up.
“Then add something about if you’ve found him, call Mary Anne’s phone number,” said Mal.
Over in the director’s chair, I could see Kristy getting another of her ideas. I’m not unusually perceptive. It’s just that it’s hard to miss Kristy getting excited. I could hear this big intake of breath, and then — I swear — she began wriggling around like a puppy.
Claudia saw, too, and said, “Kristy? Is there anything you’d like to tell us?”
(Dawn, Jessi, and Mal tried to hide their giggles.)
And Kristy exploded with, “Yes, I’ve got a great idea! We could offer a reward. Then we could add, ‘Ten-dollar reward for the safe return of Tigger’ to the poster. Or something like that.”
Well, we had to admit — it was a great idea.
“Except for one thing,” said Dawn, our treasurer. “Where are we going to get the money?”
“I’ve got four dollars,” said Jessi.
“I’ve got three-fifty,” said Claudia.
“Five-fifty,” said Mal.
“Only two,” said Dawn. “I just bought earrings. Sorry, Mary Anne.”
I shook my head, smiling. Who cared? I couldn’t believe what my friends were doing.
“I’ve got five sixty-four,” said Kristy. “I know exactly.”
“And I,” I said softly, “have four seventy-five. I would spend my last penny to find Tigger. I wish I had four hundred seventy-five.”
Dawn was busy with a pencil and a pad of paper.
“Let’s see here,” she said. “Um, all together we’ve got … twenty-five dollars and thirty-nine cents!”
We gasped.
“Hold on, you guys,” Dawn went on. “Let me check something.” She reached for the club’s treasury envelope and rooted around inside. At last she emerged with a fistful of bills and change.
“What are you doing?” asked Kristy.
“I just took four sixty-one from the treasury,” Dawn replied. “If we add it to the money we’re donating, our reward will be an even thirty bucks. Won’t that look nice on the poster?”
Five heads nodded. And I began to cry.
“Mary Anne? What’s wrong?” asked Dawn. “Don’t worry. There’s still plenty of money in the treasury. I just took out enough to make thirty.”
“Oh, it’s not that,” I said, sniffling. (Claudia handed me a tissue.) “It’s all of you. Donating the money you worked so hard for. I know you’re saving for things. And now, you’re giving up your money for Tigger.”
“And,” added Dawn, “for you.”
Well, that started a fresh flood of tears. I was crying for me, for Tigger, but mostly because my friends were being so wonderful.
I cried until Dawn slid off of Claud’s bed, crossed the room, and put her arms around me. Slowly, my tears subsided.
Just as I was getting under control again, I heard Mal say, “‘What shall we do about poor little Tigger?’”
“Huh?” said Kristy.
“It’s from The House at Pooh Corner,” she replied. “Our family’s been reading it aloud. That line is the beginning of one of Pooh’s hums. You know, his poemy-songs. The rest of it is about getting Tigger the tiger to eat. But that first line makes me think of Mary Anne’s Tigger.”
“Yeah,” I said, nodding slowly. “What shall we do about poor little Tigger?”
I almost started to cry again, but Kristy said, “Come on, we have work to do. If we can get a sample poster finished, my mom could go to her office tonight and run off copies. Then we —”
“She’ll go to the office on a Saturday night?” interrupted Claud.
“Maybe,” replied Kristy. “For something this important. How many copies do you think I should ask her to make?”
We decided on a number. Then we got to work on the poster. When we were finished, this is what the top part looked like:
Underneath this information, Claud drew a picture of Tigger that really looked like him. She kept sending me home for photos of him so that she could work from them, but I didn’t mind. I’d do anything that would help find him.
And at the bottom of the poster in huge letters we wrote:
We laid the poster on the bed, and the six of us leaned over to look at it.
Mimi came in at that moment. “What is picture?” she asked. (Mimi had a stroke last summer and it affected her speech.)
“It’s Tigger,” Claudia told her grandmother. “He’s missing, and we’re going to help find him.”
Mimi looked puzzled. “Eggplants,” was all she said. Then she left.
A moment of silence followed.
“I think the poster looks perfect,” I said.
“I just hope it works,” added Dawn.
“It will. It has to,” Jessi said vehemently.
“Where will we put the posters?” asked Claud. I could tell she was trying not to think about Mimi. I hoped she knew the rest of us didn’t mind the funny little things that happened.
“Oh, we’ll put them on phone poles, in people’s mailboxes. We’ll go all ov
er our neighborhood. I mean, your neighborhood,” replied Kristy. “Well, I better call Charlie for a ride. Let’s meet back here at noon tomorrow.”
We agreed to the plan and I ran home, hoping to find Tigger.
No Tigger.
I called Logan instead and gave him the news.
“Gee, that’s too bad,” he said vaguely.
That was it? Tigger was missing and Logan said, “Too bad”? Where was his brain?
“Logan, he’s been missing for twenty-four hours.”
“I’m really sorry…. Oh! Darn. Now I see.”
“See what?”
“What went wrong in practice today. I’m watching tapes of our games.”
I couldn’t believe it. But I just calmly said good-bye and hung up.
I could tell, just from reading this notebook entry, how close Jessi and Becca and Squirt are. That is so nice. Boy, do I wish for a brother and sister. Or for just one of them.
Or for Tigger.
Anyway, as soon as Mr. and Mrs. Ramsey left, Becca said to her big sister, “Jessi, I’m hungry.”
“I know,” replied Jessi. “Me, too. But I want to give Squirt his supper first. I think that’ll be easier. Then you and I can eat together when he’s finished.”
“Okay,” said Becca reluctantly. She didn’t want to wait — but she did want to eat dinner with Jessi.
Jessi fixed Squirt a cheese sandwich and some grapes. She cut the sandwich into small pieces, since Squirt is learning to feed himself. Then she put the food in Squirt’s airplane dish, set the dish and a bottle of milk on the kitchen table, sat Squirt in his high chair, and placed his dinner in front of him.
Squirt smiled.
He picked up a piece of sandwich. He opened it. He put the cheese in his mouth and let the bread fall to the floor. Then he mashed a grape in his hands. And laughed.
“Der-bliss!” he cried.
He took another grape, tried to bite it in half, and sent it sailing across the room. More laughter.
Half an hour later, Squirt’s bottle was empty. So was his airplane tray. But cheese was squished in his hair, his hands were covered with mashed grapes, and the kitchen was littered with bread, cheese, and grapes.
“You know what?” said Jessi to her sister. “I don’t think he ate anything. He drank his milk. Well, he did eat that one piece of cheese, but everything else is somewhere in the kitchen.”
Becca giggled. “The best part was when he shot that grape at me. Right out of his mouth. And right at my nose. I know he did it on purpose.”
Becca helped Jessi clean the kitchen. Then Jessi cleaned up Squirt. And then she and her sister sat down to their own supper while Squirt watched them from his playpen.
“We get toasted cheese sandwiches,” said Becca happily.
“Yes,” replied Jessi, “because we’re older and know how to eat. But if you spit anything across the table at me — I’ll make you sit in the high chair.”
Becca giggled.
They began to eat.
“What shall we do about poor little Tigger?” murmured Jessi a few moments later.
“What do you mean?” asked Becca.
Jessi told her about Pooh’s hum, and about the missing Tigger.
“Gosh, that’s awful,” said Becca. “You know who’s going to be really upset? I mean, besides Mary Anne?”
“Who?”
“Charlotte. She loves Tigger. She wishes Tigger were hers.”
“I can understand that. Tigger’s pretty cute. And Charlotte doesn’t have a pet.”
“I’m sure glad Misty lives in his cage,” said Becca. “He can’t run away.”
Misty is the Ramseys’ hamster. He’s their first pet ever. Jessi and Becca think he’s so adorable they could practically eat him up. He is cute. Because he’s young, he’s very small. Everything about him is tiny and adorable. (Kind of like Tigger.) He’s got itty-bitty feet with claws on them you can barely see. And by his nose, which is pink, are pale, pale whiskers. They’re almost transparent. Misty is also pretty. His fur is patches of golden brown and white, and his eyes are shiny and black.
Guess how Jessi got Misty. She didn’t go to a pet store and buy him. He came from some of her neighbors, the Mancusis. They were going away on vacation and needed a pet-sitter. So they called the Baby-sitters Club! Ordinarily, Kristy doesn’t like for us club members to pet-sit, but Jessi had a free week, so she took the job — and found herself caring for cats, dogs, hamsters, rabbits, a disgusting snake that got loose one afternoon, some fish, and I don’t remember what else. Anyway, while she was on the job, she discovered that one of the hamsters was going to have babies. Misty is one of those babies, of course, and the Mancusis were delighted to let Jessi have him. (By the way, Mal’s family also took a hamster baby.)
“I’m glad Misty lives in a cage, too,” said Jessi. “Being cooped up might seem cruel, but at least it’s safe.”
“Hey!” cried Becca. “I just got an idea. Maybe the Mancusis have a kitten they could give to Mary Anne. I mean, if Tigger doesn’t come back.”
“Maybe …” Jessi replied slowly. “Two of their cats are going to have kittens.”
“One of the kittens might look like Tigger!” exclaimed Becca.
“Maybe,” Jessi said again. Then, “I’m just wondering about one thing. Would Mary Anne want another kitten? I mean, let’s say something happened to Misty —”
“What would happen to Misty?” cried Becca.
“Nothing. I’m just saying if something happened —”
“If what happened?”
Becca had put her sandwich down on her plate. She looked worriedly at her sister.
Jessi sighed. “Nothing. But think of it this way: If you didn’t have Misty, would you want a different hamster? Sort of as a replacement?”
“No way!”
“Okay. That’s what I’m thinking about with Mary Anne and Tigger. I’m not sure she’d want a replacement kitten. Not right away.”
“But it’s nice to know the Mancusis are here,” said Becca.
“Yeah,” agreed Jessi. “It’s nice to know they’re here.”
“Ah-choo! Ah-choo!” called Squirt from his playpen. He was standing up, his arms hanging over the sides, looking at his big sisters.
Jessi and Becca began to giggle. Squirt’s newest trick is pretending to sneeze. Only his sneezes don’t sound real. He just yells, “Ah-choo!” which sometimes comes out “Ah-shoo!” or even “Ah-too!”
“Hey, Squirt,” said Becca, “if you eat all your vegetables, will you get” (she lowered her voice dramatically) “big … and … strong?”
Squirt’s face broke into a dimply smile. Then he squeezed his hands into fists, and posed his arms like a strongman.
Jessi and Becca were now giggling so hard they could barely eat. But they calmed down. As they finished their dinners, Becca said, “Jessi, can I help Squirt walk later?”
“Sure,” answered Jessi, wondering why her sister had even asked. Squirt was a new and unsteady walker, but Becca had helped him toddle around plenty of times.
“Oh, goody,” replied Becca. She was quick to help Jessi with the dishes. Then she ran to Squirt’s playpen and lifted him out.
Squirt squealed with happiness.
“Jessi, Jessi, come watch Squirt!” called Becca.
Jessi was sponging off the table. “Becca, I’ve seen him walk.”
“Well, you haven’t seen this. Please come here.”
“Okay.” Jessi abandoned the sponge and crossed the room to her brother and sister.
Becca had set Squirt on the carpeted floor of the rec room and he stood there unsteadily. She backed away. “Okay, Squirtles,” she said. “Come here!” She held out her hands. “Come here!”
Squirt lurched toward Becca. As he walked, he cheered himself on. “Yea! Yea! Yea!”
So that was what Becca had wanted Jessi to see. Jessi began to laugh. “Who taught him that?”
“He did. I kept cheering for him when he
was walking. Now he cheers for himself.”
“Group hug!” announced Jessi. She and Becca and Squirt moved together for a three-person hug.
After that, it was Squirt’s bedtime. Jessi read him some nursery rhymes before he went to sleep. Squirt is too little to understand them, but Jessi thinks reading is important at any age. Then she let Becca read to her from Baby Island, and finally, when Becca was asleep, too, Jessi brought her copy of Sounder downstairs and curled up with it on the living room couch. Sounder is about a dog, but Jessi found herself thinking of Tigger the cat, wondering the same things I was wondering. What had happened to him? Was he safe? Was he hurt? If he was hurt somewhere, would we find him? And … where was he?
“Mary Anne, Mary Anne! My mom did it!”
“Did what?” It was Sunday morning and I hadn’t been awake very long. My brain was barely working. All I knew was that Kristy was on the other end of the line and she was very excited.
“She copied the posters!” said Kristy. “I’ve got the whole stack right here in my lap. So I’m on my way over. We can paper the neighborhood.”
I wanted to find Tigger more than anyone else did. But it was only eight-thirty in the morning. I wasn’t dressed. And I had a pretty good idea that Claudia and Dawn weren’t even awake. All I said, though, was “Paper the neighborhood? What does that mean?”
“You know, put up the posters. Distribute them. Cover the neighborhood with them.”
“Oh…. Wow, Kristy, it was awfully nice of your mom to go to her office last night. She had to go all the way into Stamford, just for the posters.”
“Well, Tigger is important.”
“Thank you,” I said, “and listen, I can’t wait to start, um, papering the neighborhood. But don’t you think it’s a little early in the day? I’m still in my nightgown. And … and … okay, I’m walking across Dad’s room, now I’m looking out the window … Yup, Claud’s shades are down. I’m sure she’s still asleep. I bet Dawn is asleep, too. And I’d kind of like to call Logan. Maybe he’ll come help us. Can we meet at noon?”
“Noon?” repeated Kristy. She sounded slightly disappointed. “Well, okay. And how’s this? I’ll phone Jessi, Mal, and Claud, if you’ll phone Dawn and Logan. Tell them to meet in your yard at twelve o’clock.”