By Jon C. Picciuolo
Illustrated by Roger Vanderlinden
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The mayor swallowed hard and asked: "Tell me, lad, how do you plan to do it? How long will it take?"
"I promise I won't hurt the animals. Saturday will be rainy, so the job will be done by Sunday dawn."
The mayor of Huppville counted on his chubby fingers. "Only three days? And what has rain got to do with cats? Are you sure you don't want to be paid?"
Sammy thought quickly. "Well, a parade would be nice."
"What?"
"A parade," repeated Sammy. "If I get rid of the strays, you must give me a parade. A small one would be acceptable."
The mayor was about to tell Sammy no, but he remembered the election. He didn't think the boy could get rid of cats, but he needed votes. Mayors who save tax money often get bundles of votes. "All right, lad. Next Monday night I'll hold another council meeting. If the cats are gone, you'll be rewarded. If they're still here, the town will hire a consultant." He rustled his papers. "Next on tonight's agenda is..."
On the way home, Mister Harris said, "We'll both look silly if you can't do it. How can I help?"
"Can you borrow Uncle Jim's moving van on Saturday, and can we visit Aunt Mae's farm?"
"I think so. Why?"
"Don't worry, Dad -- you won't look silly. Here's what we're going to do..."
At noon on that showery Saturday morning, Mister Harris parked the big yellow van near the town square and opened the rear doors. Not far away, under a black umbrella, Sammy began his work. Huppville is a small town, so it is easy to walk along all the streets. At the middle of every block, Sammy paused. From under cars and bushes emerged the strays. They trotted up to Sammy and rubbed his legs, purring. Big cats and kittens. Black ones and white. Limping old cats. Tough young cats.
"The things I must do for a parade," Sammy muttered as he gently shoved away a kitten with his toe. From street to street he walked in the rain. Townsfolk peered through tightly-closed closed windows and marveled at the sight. The procession of homeless wet felines grew. Five, ten, then thirty and more, followed happily.
At last Sammy neared the town square. He jumped into the back of the truck and slid a thick plank to the street. "All Aboard!" he called. The cats scampered up the plank. Sammy tore open two cat food bags and filled several tin plates. The strays, hungry from marching in the rain, ate greedily.
"Enjoy your ride," Sammy muttered as he hopped down from the van, brushing away soggy clumps of fur. His father helped him close the big doors.
A half-hour later they parked the moving van next to the old barn on Aunt Mae's farm. "Dad, are you sure that Aunt Mae doesn't mind our leaving all the cats here?" asked Sammy.
"I'm sure, son. She told me on the phone that she needs cats to chase away all the mice in her barn. She loves cats, so they'll have a good home."
In a few minutes the doors were open and the cats were romping in the barn. They didn't notice Sammy sneaking back to the truck.
"Let's go home," said Sammy. "I have to decide what to wear for my parade."
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