Crisis in Crittertown Read Online Free PDF Page B

mouse seemed to run right into a book pile. At the last second, I saw the narrow gap between stacks. We slipped in after General History. Behind us, Dot chattered and chased the stragglers.
    My heart pounded. General History seemed oddly calm. “Dot likes exercise after dinner. She’ll nap again soon.”
    Dot leaped onto Cookbook’s tail. The chubby mouse turned to bite the cat’s paw. Dot lifted it, leaving Cookbooks free to run—and be pounced at again! Dot’s paws landed on either side of the terrified chef. General History darted out to distract Dot, while Cookbooks escaped.
    Dictionaries emerged from the shadows. “Dot rarely kills or even draws blood. Did you know the meow word for ‘mouse’ means ‘delicious toy’?” I shuddered. He added, “In the ancient human language called Sanskrit, the word for ‘mouse’ means ‘to steal.’”
    I only half-listened as Dictionaries tried to explain ancient languages to Nilla. I even almost forgot Dot. Here was a clue to the mystery. Humans hate mice because to them, we aren’t brave foragers feeding hungry families; we are thieves! If this were true, I wondered what, if anything, could be done about it.
    As General History predicted, Dot soon went back upstairs. Nonfiction emerged from an old envelope box. Four soldiers followed him, carrying a large piece of folded paper. Nonfiction told Grayson, “This is a map of Crittertown. Shall we study it together?”
    With great ceremony, the four soldiers stepped backward to unfold the map. Soon all of Crittertown spread out before us. Mike sometimes showed this map to people who asked for directions. It listed the roads in Crittertown, and had squiggles for rivers and blobs for lakes.
    Nilla gasped. “I had no idea the town was so big!”
    â€œFifty-eight streets on Route 1; thirty-seven on Route 2,” I muttered.
    Nonfiction said, “I didn’t know that. Thank you, Cheddar.”
    Grayson began, “In all this area there must be some place for our colony.”
    Poetry’s sweet voice suggested, “Couldn’t we make room here?”
    After Dot’s evening friskies, my desire to live in the library had departed faster than Express Mail.
    Nonfiction sighed. “If we increased our numbers, Miss Davis might bring in a younger cat, set traps, or even call an exterminator.” He whispered to a soldier, who scurried off. Then he said, “Have you been to the Crittertown Bed and Breakfast?”
    Nilla replied, “I know what a bed is and I love breakfast, but…”
    Dictionaries recited, “A B&B is a private home where travelers stay, like at a hotel. Breakfast is included in the cost of lodging.”
    The absent soldier returned with some slick paper balanced on his head.
    Nonfiction announced, “Here’s the B&B’s brochure.”

    Grayson and Nilla bent over the booklet. Grayson said, “What a big house! Ten bedrooms, four bathrooms, dining room, breakfast ‘nook,’ whatever that is…”
    Nilla read, “This quaint farmhouse was built in 1937. That’s old, right? There should be plenty of holes!”
    Cookbooks said, “Our scouts report delicious smells. And Mrs. Hill, the lady who owns the place with her husband, is always checking out cookbooks. The food must be superb!”
    Grayson asked, “Your scouts haven’t entered?”
    Nonfiction replied, “We have rules about avoiding human contact. The less they see us, the less chance of extermination.”
    Grayson turned a page. “Look! Vegetable and herb gardens, and a grape arbor! I love grapes!”
    Acorns stirred in my stomach. This reminded me of the Crittertown Market, because it seemed too good to be true. “Have your scouts smelled or seen a colony?”
    Nonfiction turned to General History. “I don’t recall reports of a colony, do you?”
    General History