Pinky Pye (23 page)

When the little owl saw Papa, he hopped off his perch and marched to the door of his cage for a stroke and a scratch on the head, which he liked although throughout this show of affection his expression remained frowning and fierce.

"Can't help his looks," said Rachel. "He's awfully cute, anyway."

How were Pinky and Gracie getting along with this new member of the family? When the owl in his cage was permitted downstairs, the cats hugged the walls. The owl and they scrutinized each other constantly, the owl turning around as on a pivot whenever a cat slinkily circled around him. The cats were not given an opportunity to tear open Owlie's cage, and Papa was having a hardier one made of very strong wire so that it would be impossible for them or even for mountain lions to tear it apart. So Owlie was assured of a pleasant, yet just dangerous enough, sort of life ahead; and his presence lent spice to the lives of the cats, who could always imagine how good he would taste if they could only taste him.

Pretty soon the sound of Papa's typewriter could be heard busily clicking in the night air. Pinky pricked up her ears. Should she stay here and purr on Rachel's lap or go upstairs and help with the typing? Unable to decide, she polished her paw. Mama was busily scraping the dinner dishes downstairs and of course Uncle Bennie was back in his real right home with his real right mother and father. The house seemed empty without him.

"Can you believe it?" said Jerry. "School starts tomorrow. Book reports, physiology..."

"Physiology! Will you have physiology now?" asked Rachel, who was one year behind Jerry in school.

"Yop. Physiology and all kinds of things, even harder things," said Jerry.

Rachel gently scratched Pinky behind the ears. Pinky soon had enough of this. She shook her head, stretched, yawned, and jumped down. Crying "Woe," she walked into the house. In the doorway they could see her little black outline as she stood listening, white paw raised.

"She hears Papa typing and she wants to do some herself," saia Rachel.

"Yop," said Jerry.

"Now isn't it funny?" said Rachel. "All the while that Papa was sitting under the green army umbrella typing, he was not writing about birds at all. He was writing about a cat. This is a secret but it's true. Don't tell anyone," said Rachel.

"How do you know?" asked Jerry.

"I found it out that day when you and Mama and the bird man and Uncle Bennie left me and Papa at home, the day I discovered Owlie."

"But how?"

"I happened to glance, just out of curiosity, at Papa's paper and it was about a cat. It was written as though a cat had written it. A lot of it was in the 'I' person."

"I don't mind 'I' books anymore," said Jerry. "But I tell you what I do mind, and that's book reports. Do you like book reports?" he asked Rachel.

"Well," said Rachel, "I like books but I'm not crazy about book reports."

"There are four things about book reports that I don't mind," said Jerry. "Name of book, name of author, setting, and time. Those four things. I hate moral, meaning, and plot."

"Names of characters is not bad either," said Rachel.

"Yes, but then you have to say whether good or bad," said Jerry.

"Yes, but that's not so hard," said Rachel.

Jerry got back to the subject of Papa and Pinky and their typewriting. "Suppose that that book that Papa or Pinky, or whoever it is, is writing, supposing we should get it from the library someday and have to write a book report on it?"

"Yes, imagine writing a book report on your own cat!"

Pinky was still standing in the doorway, listening. She looked at them as though she thought they were both nuts, and then she bounded up the stairs to the little eyrie. She leaped onto Papa's lap, watched the keys hop up and hop down, and then she thought it was her turn and so she typed.

"Let's go and look over Papa's shoulder," suggested Jerry.

"Oh, no," said Rachel, aghast. "He doesn't like that, you know. He never has liked that."

"I know," said Jerry rather reluctantly. "But I should like to see some of the words coming out of the mind and onto the paper. Well, anyway, it's nice right here. My, it's nice to be home again, isn't it!"

"M-m-m," said Rachel. "That tree. And that star! And smell it, smell the air, just smell it."

They both smelled the air and then they continued with their conversation. Is there anything pleasanter than to sit in the evening time on a little porch under a large and rustling tree and talk with your brother? Rachel wondered. And no one calling anyone nuts.

Yet, after all, Jerry and Rachel had not been able to resist going upstairs to the little eyrie. Their eyes nearly popped out as they saw the following words hopping onto the paper.

BOOK REPORT
by
Pinky Pye

on the book called
Meditations of Pinky Pye

Name of book: Meditations of Pinky Pye.

Author:
I wrote it. Pye put in the commas.

Setting:
No setting. Since a book is not exactly an egg, no setting on it was necessary.

Time:
A very good time.

Characters:
Pinky, ah-h. That's myself. A good character.

Pye, the man. That's him. A good character, good at games.

Typewriter. That's this. A good character.

Gracie. That's her. An old New York cat. A shady character.

Ginger Pye. A dog here. A noisy character and bad.

Bugs. Good characters.

Uncle Bennie. A lively boy in charge of the bugs. A shady character.

? in the eaves. A shady character.

Owlie. A shady character.

Pye, the lady. A cook. A good character.

Rachel Pye. A girl. A watcher. A good character.

Jerry Pye. A boy. A shady character and noisy.

Birds. Shady characters. To be caught.

Grasshoppers. Shady characters.

Peepers. Noisy and shady characters.

String beans. Good characters.

A girl with red hair. A catcher of kittens in crab nets. A shady character.

A man named Bish. A clever catcher of fish. But a stealer of my bird. A shady character.

Describe three
of
these characters briefly:

a. 
Ginger Pye.
Ginger Pye is a jealous, noisy, stubborn, greedy, foolhardy, pathetic, untidy dog.

b. 
Gracie Pye.
Gracie Pye is a mean old cat. She is a talented watcher, however, and a brilliant mouser (they say). She is a spiteful, jealous creature, but she is neat and quiet.

c. 
Pinky Pye.
Pinky Pye, ah-h, is the main character of the book, the "I" of the book. In this description, out of modesty, I'll refer to myself as "she," not to have I, I, I every minute. She is brilliant, charming, beautiful, winning, brave, clever, cute, wonderful, irresistible, and full of ingenuity. She has a sweet nature, loving, spirited, and gay. She is inquisitive. She has unlocked screens in windows and exited. She is a keen observer and a great watcher, and she made
the ascent to the eaves.
She is adorable, lovable, enchanting, and fascinating. A whole book could be written about her and has been. Look in the library for it. Don't skip a word of it, it is all true.

Tell what the plot is, enough to show that you have read it:

The plot is this: There was I, Pinky, living in the reeds and the rushes in that other land across the waters. There were peepers to catch, grasshoppers, too; minnows to watch and my reflection in the salty pools; the dew in the morning to drink, my brother to box with; butterflies, ten to a dozen. Then one day along with my sisters and brother I was caught in a crab net by a girl with red hair. Where are my brother and sisters now? It is not in the plot of this book to tell, for I am the plot. A good character, Mr. Edgar Pye, and his girl, Rachel Pye, rescued me from the bad character with her nets and contraptions. Liking them, I took up residence with them. In this household everyone is a watcher of some sort. Some are better than others. What is in the eaves is the main thread of this story, and in the end I reveal the secret. Gracie is apt to boast that she knew it all along. Old cats are boastful. Don't listen to her. As though you'd have a chance! She can't type.

Tell what the style is:

The book is written in the latest style. When the man, Pye, does the typing, the style is wordy. When I do the typing, there are plenty of interesting dots and dashes and exclamation points and the going is swifter. Do not skip the parts that the Pye man writes, however, for they are not bad, being mainly about me. I prefer to use this sign ($) instead of the exclamation point (!), but the Pye man always erases it. It looks greedy, he says. I think it's prettier though.

Criticism:
(This means tell what is good or bad about the book. And if you like it.) Yes, I like it. It is too short, that's all.

Climax:
(This means the most exciting part.) As though I have to tell you—The Ascent to the Eaves, of course.

Illustrations:
Excellent, though they do flatter Ginger.

Moral:
The moral is, watch and you shall be rewarded.

Comments:
I have heard of one cat already who is named after me, Pinky Pye Cohen. There will probably be others, and to them all I send greetings. Since I caught, or rather led to the discovery of the you-know-what up in the eaves, I am as famous as the dog here named Ginger Pye. I, too, got my picture in the paper, though Ginger had to horn in of course. It is in the
Cranbury Chronicle
for yesterday.

"$#&?*-"

This is the way that Pinky wrote "good-bye." Some cats do speak and type in different languages, you know.

The mouths of Jerry and Rachel Pye were hanging open. They were speechless, foreseeing, as they did, a new era in book reports.

"Well," said Papa, "since we have finished with the book and we have finished with the book report, what do we do now, Pinky Pye?"

Pinky cast a slurring glance at the little owl, and she made a slinky exit. At the door she looked back at Mr. Pye and then, for a long and thoughtful time, at the owl. "Woe," she replied sadly.

Eleanor Estes
(1906–1988) grew up in West Haven, Connecticut, which she renamed Cranbury for her classic stories about the Moffat and Pye families. A children's librarian for many years, she launched her writing career with the publication of
The Moffats
in 1941. Two of her outstanding books about the Moffats—
Rufus M.
and
The Middle Moffat
—were awarded Newbery Honors, as was her short novel
The Hundred Dresses.
She won the Newbery Medal for
Ginger Pye.