The Good, the Bad and the Bossy (Best Babysitters Ever). Caroline Cala

said Dot.

      “I think there’s something wrong with that one,” said Malia.

      “There is nothing wrong with her!” said Bree. She felt insulted on the maybe-cat’s behalf.

      Dot crouched down so she was close enough to read the tag around the cat’s neck. “McDuffin. What kind of name is that?”

      “It sounds like fast food,” said Malia.

      “You know I love fast food, but that sounds like a mistake,” said Dot.

      “I’m in love with her!” said Bree, clasping her hands together.

      “You’re in love . . . with that?” asked Malia, wrinkling her face up like she smelled a fart. “Are you sure?”

      “We’re not even sure what that is,” said Dot. “Is it a cat?”

      “It is the most beautiful cat,” said Bree. The cat visibly brightened. Watching this cat, Bree suddenly understood how Malia felt about Connor Kelly. It was like seeing a unicorn in a forest, and then having all your friends insist it was just a regular horse. Why couldn’t they see the magic?

      Bree’s mom, who had lingered silently a few feet away from the girls, finally spoke up. “Oh,” she said. “That’s, um, that’s interesting.”

      Bree sighed. “Everything about her is perfect.”

      “I beg to disagree,” said Dot. She began counting off the reasons on her fingers. “For one, it doesn’t have any fur. Two, do we need to be concerned that it’s standing like that? Like it wants to maybe kill us? Three, its expression is . . . highly concerning.”

      “No! Her face is sweet,” argued Bree. “So sweet and wrinkly. She just needs lots of hugs.”

      “And a sweater,” said Malia.

      “Oh my goodness, yes! Or a hoodie!” Bree was already planning her extensive wardrobe, mentally putting aside some of her former dolls’ clothes that might be a good fit. Bree had dreamed about dressing up her cat, but this hairless cat would actually require it!

      “Excuse me, um, Bartholomeow?” Bree called to the nearest volunteer. “Can you tell me more about this one?”

      The volunteer shuffled over to the scratching tower. He looked to be a college student, and his name tag read BARTHOLOMEW. (Though Bree had clearly misread it as “Bartholo-meow,” which only added to her excitement.)

      “This here is a sphynx cat,” he said, “a very special breed.”

      “You can say that again,” said Dot, prompting a giggle from Malia.

      “Sphynx cats are highly social cats that enjoy more attention than your typical housecat,” Bartholomew explained. “They tend to get along well with other animals, and they have LOTS of energy. They love to be held and snuggled, almost like dogs!”

      Attention? Snuggling? Bree was sold.

      “I’ll take her!” said Bree, with the kind of enthusiasm usually reserved for people on game shows or reality shows or home makeover shows or really any kind of show where people win stuff.

      “Um, perhaps he can tell us some more facts about this specific cat before we sign on the dotted line,” Bree’s mom cut in.

      “Yes, it’s best to be absolutely sure of your decision.” Bartholomew nodded sombrely. “We’re looking to find each of these animals forever homes, and we wouldn’t want to cause the cat any undue stress.”

      “Where did this particular animal come from?” Bree’s mom asked.

      “McDuffin was an owner surrender.” Bartholomew frowned. “McDuffin is quite young, you see, but the original owner had change-in-life circumstances and could no longer handle pet ownership.”

      This prompted an “Aww” from Bree.

      Bartholomew paused before adding, “And neither could either of the families who adopted him since.”

      “I’m sorry, did you say this cat has been returned three times?” Dot asked.

      Malia and Dot elbowed each other.

      “Now, not exactly. I mean, technically yes, but not for any real reason!” Bartholomew added quickly. “No, no, there’s nothing wrong with McDuffin. McDuffin just has the worst luck.”

      “And the worst name,” Malia added.

      “And the craziest eyes,” Dot continued.

      “And the sweetest face!” Bree concluded. “I LOVE YOU, HONEY MUFFIN!” she whispered at the cat’s face.

      The cat hissed softly.

      “Anyway, it’s best to make sure you and the cat have good feelings about each other,” Bartholomew insisted.

      Bree turned her attention back to Bartholomew, and then to her mom. “Yes, I’m absolutely sure. This is the cat for me.”

      Bree’s mom hesitated, then nodded.

      “All right, let’s make it official!” Bartholomew clapped his hands and led Bree’s mom over to the front counter so she could fill out the adoption paperwork.

      While her mom took care of the boring stuff, Bree picked out a rhinestone collar and a trio of sparkly toy mice. She got a little choked up, imagining her new best friend romping joyfully around her room with the new toys. Bree couldn’t wait for McDuffin to discover her wonderful new life. Just a few moments later, McDuffin was in a cat carrier, bound for the Robinson house.

      “So you have a new baby,” Malia said, eyeing the feline cargo. “How does it feel?”

      “I can’t believe it!” Bree said. “This is the best day of my life.”

      “What are you going to name her?” asked Dot. “I mean, clearly you can’t keep calling her McDuffin.”

      “I shall name her . . .” Bree paused for effect. “Veronica.”

      “I’m sensing a theme here,” said Dot.

      It was only fitting. For years, Bree had tried to change the family cat Chocolate Pudding’s name to Taylor Swift and had been met with much resistance. But now she could name her own cat whatever she wanted. From this moment forward, Veronica would forever be known as Veronica.

      “I suppose this Veronica doesn’t have a last name, either?” Malia asked.

      “MEOW,” Veronica said, somewhat aggressively.

      “Okay, then,” said Malia. “No last name necessary.”

      “You guys, thank you so much for being part of my big day!” Bree said, getting a little choked up. “You’re going to be the best cat aunts ever.”

      “We wouldn’t have missed it for the world.” Dot smiled. “Although I’m not sure I’m cut out to be a cat aunt. But I’ll certainly try my best.”

      “We should celebrate,” said Malia.

      “Ooh, yes! Do you guys want to hit up the food court?” Dot asked.

      “Yeah!” Malia visibly brightened at the mention of food.

      “We should probably get going,” Bree said, tilting her head toward Veronica, who was now rubbing her bald, wrinkly head against the inside of the carrier door. “You know, introduce her to her new home and all.”

      “Oh, right,” Malia said.

      “Yeah. But you guys go on without me!” Bree said.

      She gave each of her friends a one-armed hug with her right arm, with the cat case cradled in her left. There was something bittersweet about this moment. Of course she was sad to miss out on the food court, but she was embarking on a much bigger journey – the path of pet parenthood.