Domino (3 page)

After school the next day, Michael and Mia met Mom at the vet’s office. Michael and Mia liked Dr. Bulford. She had helped them with their other foster cats, and they often saw her when they walked by Wags and Whiskers on their way home from the rec center.

Michael wasn’t sure what would happen on this visit to the vet. When Michael had called to tell her about Domino, Dr. Bulford had said something about checking to see if Domino had a microchip. Michael had never heard of that before, and he wondered what it meant.

“You said Domino might have a microchip. Does that mean he’s a cat spy or part robot or
something?” Michael asked as Dr. Bulford prepared to examine Domino.

The vet laughed. “It does sound high-tech, doesn’t it?” she said as she lifted Domino out of the pet carrier. “But putting a microchip ID in a pet is pretty common, especially for animals adopted from shelters. It’s just a tiny chip the size of a grain of rice. A vet puts it between an animal’s shoulders, just under the skin. It can give us the information we need to find an animal’s owners.”

“How can you tell if Domino has a chip?” Mom asked. She looked as confused as Michael felt.

“I have a special scanner that can find a microchip if Domino has one. It can also read the information on the chip,” Dr. Bulford explained. “It’s not much different from scanning a can of soup at the grocery store.” The vet set Domino down on her examination table. “But before we do that, let me take a better look at this little guy.
Hey there, Domino.” She tickled him under the chin with two fingers. Domino rolled over on his back and stretched out, showing Dr. Bulford the bright white fur on his belly.

“Well, you aren’t shy, are you?” Dr. Bulford said to Domino. She laughed as she stroked the long fur on his tummy. “He’s definitely been around people before. And he looks well fed and healthy. I agree, he probably has a family. Let’s see if I can help you find them.”

Mia’s shoulders slumped. Michael felt bad. He knew how attached she was to Domino. Michael loved the mischievous kitten, too, but he made sure to keep reminding himself that Domino did not belong to the Battellis. At least, not yet.

Dr. Bulford reached for a cream-colored scanner. It looked a lot like an electric razor.

“Will it hurt?” Mia asked.

“No,” the vet said. “It’ll feel like I’m petting him.” Michael saw Mom squeeze Mia’s shoulder. He held his breath as he watched Dr. Bulford run the scanner down Domino’s head and all around his neck and back. “It doesn’t even hurt much when the vet first puts a microchip in,” Dr. Bulford explained. “The chip is so small. It goes in with a needle. A lot like when you get a shot.”

Mia squinched up her face. “I don’t like shots. And a piece of rice sounds big to me.”

“Well, I guess Domino never had to deal with that, because the scanner isn’t picking up a chip.” Dr. Bulford sighed. “If it were, it would give me an ID number, so I could look up the owner’s information.”

Michael was surprised at how relieved he felt. Sure, he wanted to find Domino’s real owners. But he also wanted to have more time with the kitten. He was already used to having Domino
around, and he was not quite ready to give him up.

“Here’s what we can do,” Dr. Bulford told them as she wrote notes on a clipboard. “You can make posters, lots of them, to hang up in the neighborhood.” She picked up Domino and handed him to Michael. “And I can send an email out to the other vets in the area.” The vet put the carrier on the examining table and held it open. “I’ll let you know if I hear of anyone who lost a friendly tuxedo kitten,” she said as Michael lowered Domino into the bag. “And you be sure to let me know if you find his family.”

On the way home from Wags and Whiskers, Michael looked at all the light poles. The last flurries had stopped earlier that day, while he and Mia were at school. But so far no one had posted a sign for a lost kitten matching Domino’s description.

After Michael finished his math homework and practiced his oral report, he started work on the
poster. He sat in the dining room with the digital camera. Mia dragged a shoelace along the floor, trying to get Domino to chase it. Michael wanted a good shot for the poster.

“Why do we have to make a poster, anyway?” Mia said. “If they were good owners, they would be out searching for him, putting up their own posters.” Mia wrapped the purple shoelace around the leg of a chair. Domino crouched down to watch the string inch along.

Michael could see Mia’s point. But they had to make the posters. He knew that whoever owned Domino, whoever had put that collar on him, probably loved him very much and wanted him back.

“So, what do you think?” Michael asked, showing Mia the camera screen. In the picture, Domino looked extra cute and curious: ears pricked, eyes
bright, and chin up. Then Michael pointed to the laptop screen. “The picture will go right there. Right above our phone number.”

“The poster looks good. And the picture’s cute,” she said. “Too cute. What if we don’t find his owner, but someone else calls and wants to adopt him?”

Michael hesitated. “Well, I guess that would be good. That’s what fostering is all about.” Michael knew his parents would be happy to hear him say that, but he didn’t really feel that way. The truth was he wanted to keep Domino as much as Mia did.

“Don’t get mad at me,” Michael said through chattering teeth. “Dad’s the one who said you should come.” He was tired of hearing Mia whine as they trudged along the snowy sidewalk together, looking for light poles to tape posters onto.

Mia splashed through a pile of slush. “Why do I have to help put up posters? I don’t even want to find Domino’s family.”

Michael’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t let Mom or Dad hear you say that,” he advised. “We won’t be allowed to foster any more cats if you act that way.”

The sun was just a hazy glow, low in the slate-gray sky. It was getting late. Michael wondered if
anyone would even see the posters before morning. His bare fingers ached from the cold, but he couldn’t separate the posters with his gloves on. The next light pole was on the corner by John’s Pizza Place. When they got there, Michael held up a poster and Mia ripped off a long piece of tape.

“I wouldn’t care as much if we knew Domino was going to a good home. With the other cats, we got to help choose their forever families. But we’ll have to give Domino back to his real family even if we don’t like them.” Mia ripped off another piece of tape and wrapped it around the bottom of the poster. “I mean, why was Domino out in the cold in the middle of a snowstorm, anyway? He had to have crossed some busy streets to get into the park. How dangerous was that?” Mia looked at Michael. Her chapped lips were pressed together in a thin, angry line.

Michael put his hand on her shoulder as they walked toward the post office. Dad always said that Mia had strong opinions, and that sometimes
it was their job to help her see the other side of things. “Maybe they didn’t let him out,” Michael suggested. “Maybe he ran out when no one was looking.”

Michael held the door open for Mia, and they walked up to the post office bulletin board. Michael looked for an open spot for their poster.

“But if he had a good home, why would he run away?” Mia asked, hands on her hips.

“What about Callie?” Michael said. “She ran away from us, remember?”

Mia frowned. Callie was the first cat they had fostered, and she’d had a habit of slipping out the door. She was good at it, too. She didn’t like to be stuck inside.

Michael used a green pushpin to stick up a poster in the middle of the post office bulletin board.

“That was different.” Mia blew on her hands.

“Maybe it was different with Domino, too.” Michael rolled up the remaining posters and slid
them up his sleeve. Then he pulled his gloves out of his pocket. “That’s enough for tonight. Let’s go home.” They had put posters up and down High Street, from the movie theater to the gift shop. They had also posted signs along the park. Michael was sure they would get a call from Domino’s owner soon.

Michael and Mia ran the whole way home. Michael’s frozen fingers fumbled to unlock the door. Mia rushed past him into the hallway. “Can I have ice cream?” she asked as soon as she’d kicked off her boots.

“Are you kidding?” Mom said. “It’s like the Arctic out there.” Mom sat on the family room couch, sorting laundry. She was surrounded by piles of clean clothes.

“She yelled at me when I threw a snowball at her,” Michael said, hanging up his jacket. “She said it was too cold.”

“It is cold out, but it’s warm in here. And we
don’t have any cookies or cupcakes, so ice cream will have to do,” Mia said.

Mom raised her eyebrows. Mia walked over and gave Mom a kiss on the cheek. “Can I? Please?”

Mom shook the wrinkles out of one of Dad’s white undershirts, folded it, and added it to a pile. “Only if you bring me some,” she said, tweaking Mia’s nose.

Mia jumped up and ran into the kitchen.

“You haven’t seen my lucky socks with the green stripes, have you?” Michael asked. He poked through the clothes still in the laundry basket.

“Not in this wash,” Mom said. “If they were dirty, they’d be in here. I did all the whites.”

Michael nodded. Maybe they were in his drawer and he had missed them. “Where’s Domino?” he asked.

Mom looked up and tucked her long bangs behind her ear. “I don’t know. Come to think of it, I haven’t seen him for a while.”

Michael frowned. Domino usually liked to be where the people were.

“He’s got to be around here somewhere,” Mom said. “He’s probably sleeping on one of your beds.”

“Yeah,” Michael replied. “I’m going to look, just to be sure.” Michael headed down the hallway toward his bedroom. On the way, he peeked into Mia’s. Domino wasn’t on her bed, one of his favorite spots. Michael bent down and looked under the bed. Nope. There weren’t many other places for the kitten to hide. Mia kept her room way too neat for that.

Michael’s room was another matter. There were piles of clothes and books for Domino to duck behind. Michael straightened his comforter, hoping the kitten would bound out from under one of the fluffy folds. No such luck. It was dark under his bed, but Michael knew he’d be able to see Domino’s white fur, even if the kitten was crouched in the corner. The closet door was open,
so Michael checked in there, too. “Where are you, Domino?” he said out loud.

Michael couldn’t think of anything worse than losing Domino. The kitten’s picture was plastered all over the town. His owners would probably call any minute, eager to hear that their adorable, playful kitten was okay. What could Michael say? “Sorry. We did find your kitten, but then we lost him.”

Michael heard voices. He rushed to the family room. “Did you find him?” he asked.

“Who?” Dad asked. He and Mom were both standing up, folding sheets.

“Domino.”

“He wasn’t in either of your rooms?” Mom asked.

“No,” said Michael. “I can’t find him anywhere.”

“I was just in the office,” Dad said. “He wasn’t there.”

“Who wasn’t where?” Mia paraded into the room with two bowls of mint-chocolate-chip ice cream held high.

“Domino’s missing,” Michael said.

“What?” Mia put down the ice cream.

“We’ll have to check every corner of the apartment.” Mom dropped an unfolded sheet back into the laundry basket. “If he isn’t here, we’ll have to check the streets.”

Mia’s chin trembled. “He has to be here,” she said. “He wouldn’t run away.”

Michael knew how she felt, especially since they had just talked about Callie. Still, Michael didn’t think Domino had gotten out. The little kitten would have had to get past their apartment door, and then he’d have had to slip through the front door at the end of the hallway when someone opened it. Michael was sure no one could have let him out without noticing. Someone would have seen him, a speedy flash of black and white. Besides their family, only one person lived in the building: Katherine Brennan, whose apartment was upstairs. Michael and Mia called her Nonna Kate, and she was like family. Nonna Kate was retired, and she loved cats. She’d never let Domino out on purpose.

“Well, there’s only one way to make sure,” Dad said.

The Battellis rushed around the apartment, calling Domino’s name. They opened cupboards, closets, and even the refrigerator. They checked the back door and all the windows to make sure they were closed. They shook the kitten’s food dish to make it rattle and listened for a meow. Finally, Mom and Mia went up to Nonna Kate’s while Dad and Michael headed toward the basement. With each passing minute, Michael was getting more and more worried. If Domino was able to sneak out of their apartment, he could probably have gotten past the main door, too.

Dad flipped the switch by the basement stairs. He and Michael waited for the old lights to flicker on. Michael held the railing as he followed Dad down the creaky steps. The Battellis shared the basement with Nonna Kate, but Michael didn’t go down there too often. There was a small laundry room in one corner, plus the building’s water
heater and fuse box. The rest of the space was used for storing lots of stuff: old bikes, toys and clothes that Michael and Mia had outgrown, Dad’s extra sports equipment, and Mom’s extra potting soil. The basement floor was concrete and the whole place was dark and dusty.

“Coming down here makes me sneeze.” Dad sniffed and rubbed his nose. “I remember when you and Mia used to think this place was haunted.”

“Used to?” said Michael. “Mia still does. Why do you think she wanted to go up to Nonna Kate’s?”

Dad opened a metal storage locker, pulled out a flashlight, and turned it on. “Oh, and you don’t think it’s spooky?”

“Kind of.” Michael looked around. Long, dusty cobwebs hung from the pipes along the ceiling. The light from the three bare bulbs didn’t reach the corners. A kitten could hide anywhere.

“Domino!” Michael called. “Domino, here boy. You can come out.” Michael paused and listened.
He could hear only the buzz of the lights. Then he heard the stairs creak as Mom and Mia made their way down.

“No sign of him?” Mom’s face was creased with worry.

“No,” Dad said. “But we haven’t really looked yet.”

“We didn’t lose him. I know it. I have a feeling,” Mia insisted. “Just like I have a feeling that he could be ours.”

Michael ignored Mia. Finding Domino was more important than arguing about what would happen to him if they did. “Domino!” Michael called again. He headed toward the laundry room at the back of the basement. “Domino!”

Everyone searched behind cardboard boxes and inside giant plastic bins.

“Quiet!” Michael yelled. “I hear something.” Slowly, he opened the laundry room door and flipped the switch. The bulb cast a pale blue light on the small room. “Domino?” Michael said more quietly. He heard a scuffle. He bent down and
looked between the washer and dryer. “Domino? Is that you?”

Mom and Mia rushed into the tiny room. Dad stayed by the door.

“I heard something. He might be behind the dryer,” Michael said.

“Did he follow me down here when I was doing the wash?” Mom was on her knees in a second, sliding between the two machines. She reached behind the dryer. “It’s okay, Domino. Let’s get you out. It’s a dust trap back there.”

Michael held his breath until Mom said, “Gotcha.” She pulled out Domino, who was covered with a hazy blue film of lint. He gazed innocently at Michael, then twitched his nose and let out a small sneeze.

“Thank goodness,” Mom said to the kitten. “You could have been lost down here.”

“Thank goodness,” Dad said. “It could have been a rat down here.”

“Joe!” Mom frowned at Dad as she scratched Domino under the chin. She cradled him in her arms as he playfully pawed at some fluff that was stuck to his whiskers. “Oh, you!” Mom laughed and touched her finger to his nose. “Why did you have to make us worry?”

Mia gave Michael a knowing look. He knew what she was thinking, but he also knew it didn’t matter if Mom was falling for the kitten. Domino belonged to someone else.

Three days passed, and no one called about Domino. In that time, Michael finished painting his model of the
Friendship 7,
the first manned American spacecraft to orbit Earth. He practiced his speech out loud, over and over. Once, he thought Domino was actually listening, but then
the kitten attacked his shoelaces. But no matter what Michael was doing, he listened for the phone. It was all he could think about. When would Domino’s family call?

On Wednesday afternoon, he went to Jackson’s house after school to practice his report, but he still couldn’t concentrate.

“Mia might be right,” Michael told Jackson during a snack break. “Maybe Domino’s family doesn’t deserve him. Our posters are all over the place, but no one has called. Dad and I even put up more, all the way down to the new playground.”

Jackson shrugged as he popped a cracker into his mouth. “Maybe his owners haven’t seen them.”

Michael sucked on a juice box straw and looked out the kitchen window. Maybe Jackson was right. Some of the posters could have been torn down or covered up by other posters. Maybe the owners were thinking about finding Domino as much as Michael was thinking about finding them.

“Let’s go through our speeches one more time. Then I’m going to put up a few more posters on my way home.”

“Okay, dude.” Jackson let out a sigh. “But I think you might have to face it. You might not ever find the kitten’s owners. He might end up with you guys forever.”

Michael smiled at Jackson. “I’m beginning to think he just might,” he said.