Socks Read Online Free PDF Page B

fence and meowed pitifully at the neighbor’s back door, because the back door was closest to the refrigerator. When the elderly woman who lived there opened the door, Socks lifted his nose and breathed in the fragrance of stew simmering on the stove. Mrs. Bricker had not cooked anything that smelled this good since Charles William had arrived.
    â€œNow Socks, you old fraud, don’t you come begging around here.” The neighbor was kind, but she meant what she said. “You can’t tell me you haven’t had anything to eat, because I know better.” As she spoke shetossed a handful of peanuts onto the grass for the blue jays that came swooping down from the television aerial.
    Socks hated jays, noisy yammering birds that dived at him every chance they got. While the jays were busy picking up peanuts and storing them under the shingles of the Brickers’ roof, Socks sneaked across his own yard to the house on the other side.
    Unfortunately, Tiffy opened the door to his meow, but Socks took a chance and rubbed against her legs. Charm was often helpful.
    â€œMommy, Socks likes me!” shrieked Tiffy.
    â€œLucky you,” answered her mother from another room.
    Socks tactfully led the way to the refrigerator. “Mommy, Socks is hungry!” Tiffy called out.
    â€œDon’t let that cat kid you,” her mother called back.

    â€œCan I feed him?”
    â€œSure. Go ahead,” said Tiffy’s mother.
    Juices ran in Socks’s mouth as Tiffy pulled open the white door. She took out a plasticpitcher, poured something in a cup, and set it on the floor. “There you are, Socksie,” she said tenderly. “Nice Hawaiian punch.”
    One whiff was enough. Socks gave Tiffy a look of reproach. How could she disappoint him like this?
    Tiffy squatted beside him. “Try it, Socksie. You’ll like it,” she coaxed. “How do you know you won’t like it if you don’t try it?”
    Socks’s answer was a long look at the refrigerator. Tiffy got the idea. This time she offered him leftover chocolate pudding, which he also disdained. Obviously this household had nothing fit for a cat to eat. He walked to the back door and asked to go out. These people were not worth bothering with. Tiffy, eager to do something to please the cat, opened the door. “Bye, Socksie,” she said in a voice sad with disappointment. Socks walked out with his tail erect and quirked at the tip like a question mark.
    Where could Socks beg next? Cars and dogs made the territory in front of the house dangerous. The evil jays, having hidden their peanuts, were now finding them and rapping them on the roof to crack them. The sight of the jowly black cat sunning himself on the back fence was discouraging.
    Socks slunk home and let himself in through an open window. As his paws hit the floor there came a sound he had not heard since the arrival of Charles William, the sound of Mrs. Bricker tapping down the hall in her going-out-for-the-evening shoes. Instantly he was alert for the answers to two important questions. Would he be fed before his owners left, and would he be shut inside or outside the house?
    â€œPrreow.” Socks half purred and half meowed as he rubbed against the legs of Mr. Bricker, who was sitting on the bedtying his shoes. Mr. Bricker responded by rubbing his cat’s head roughly and affectionately, but he made no move in the direction of the refrigerator.
    Mrs. Bricker tapped down the hall into the bedroom with Charles William in her arms. “Is our big boy going to miss his mommy and daddy?” she asked.
    â€œPrreow,” begged Socks at his most charming. “Prreow.”
    â€œYes,” said Mrs. Bricker. “The kitty’s talking to the baby.” She was wrong. Socks was not talking to the baby. He never talked to the baby.
    â€œDo you think Charles William will mind our going out?” the young mother asked anxiously, as Charles