Sneaky Pie for President Read Online Free PDF

thread from a chair would be very nice.” Tally liked chewing things, and silk or satin was a rare treat.
    “ ’Tis,” Tucker agreed.
    In the old larder, they found the opening, a gap behind a back shelf.
    “I can’t see.” Tally coughed as she squeezed into the space, careful not to knock over crockery. Fortunately, it was heavy.
    “Stick right behind Pewter,” ordered Sneaky, from outside.
    “Just what I want, Tally on my rear end,” Pewter complained.
    “Oh, Pewter, shut up,” the diminutive dog snapped back. “You can see better in the dark than I can.”
    “I can’t fit,” Tucker half boasted as she tried to squeeze in.
    Sneaky took a quick look around. “Stay here and guard us.”
    “I’ll miss all the fun,” the corgi whined.
    “We won’t be long,” Sneaky promised her.
    And it wasn’t long before they emerged from under the bed in Monticello’s little front bedroom.
    “Come on,” ordered Sneaky. “We’ve no time to waste, gawking at old furniture.”
    The tiger cat hurried across the polished floors ahead of Pewter and Tally, past the Great Clock, powered by heavy cylinder-like weights descending through a hole in the floor into the cellar. The beautiful dining room had been rehabilitated, thanks to a gift from Ralph Lauren for which the famous designer asked no advertising. He just did it because he loved Monticello. Just behind this room, the small party found a wooden door, its handle just out of reach.
    “Stand here and stand still,” Sneaky ordered Tally before climbing on the dog’s back, reaching up, and easily turning the old doorknob. “Onward,” the cat ordered.
    The back stairway reverberated with four beats each for the two cats and the dog. They came up to the Dome Room, empty but for gleaming moonlight streaming through the large circular windows and oculus skylight.
    A walkway surrounded Jefferson’s famous dome. Doors at intervals allowed workmen to get to the dome itself for repairs—fixing leaks, mostly. At the bottom of each door was an opening, just about cat size. The two cats zipped in, and Tally, a bit bigger, squeezed through.
    Four busy mice stopped cold in their tracks.
    The boldest shouted, “You get out of here!”
    The tiger cat challenged them: “You aren’t supposed to be here, either.”
    “We are descendants of Mr. Jefferson’s mice. Who elsewould be here?” The big mouse took a precautionary step backward.
    “Well, we are FFV, First Felines of Virginia,” countered Sneaky, “so we have every right to be here. And Pewter here is descended from a Bolling who married Mr. Jefferson’s daughter. If indeed you are descended from Mr. Jefferson’s mice, you know perfectly well about the marriage to John Bolling, a fat fellow who drank too much. So there.”
    This caused a moment of confusion.
    The smallest mouse piped up. “There haven’t been cats up here in forever.”
    “That’s obvious.” Pewter could smell all the mice and see the little treasures they’d dropped around their mouse holes.
    “So why are you here? Don’t think you’re about to have any mousy treats. We’re close to our escape routes; you can’t catch us,” the big mouse defiantly pronounced.
    “I don’t want to kill you,” Sneaky declared.
    “Speak for yourself,” Pewter muttered under her breath.
    Tally whispered, “Pewter, don’t piss Sneaky off. We have to ride all the way back home, remember?”
    “Well, what do you want?” demanded the biggest mouse.
    “I want you and all the mice here to help me run for president.”
    “A cat for president?” The little mouse lifted up on his hind legs, putting his front paws together in delight. “You’re even stupider than I thought. Who would want to be president, much less a cat? Isn’t it all just a wee bit far-fetched?”
    “Far-fetched, maybe, but it was far-fetched to think we could break free from England,” said Sneaky, “and who would have thought that the skinny redhead who wrote the Declaration