The Cat Who Got Hired

The bakery was much bigger than it looked from the street. Ovens hummed along one wall. Trays clattered on a long wooden table. A pair of swinging doors opened and shut so quickly that Milo could hardly tell where they led.

Flour sacks stood in tall rows. Some were tied with blue string. Some leaned against one another like sleepy white bears.

Milo took three careful steps.

A bell rang above the front door.

“Two berry buns, please!” called a customer.

“Coming right up!” answered a bright voice.

Milo crouched behind a flour sack. He wanted to find the door again, but every path seemed to twist around tables, baskets, and trays.

A small gray mouse darted from under a shelf.

Milo’s ears perked up.

The mouse wore a dusting of flour from nose to tail. It looked as if it had rolled through a snowdrift.

Milo forgot about the bakery door again.

The mouse zipped between two sacks.

Milo followed.

The mouse slid beneath a table. Milo ducked after it and bumped a basket. The basket wobbled. Three wooden spoons rolled across the floor.

“Oops,” said Milo.

The mouse popped out near the ovens.

Milo scampered after it. Warm air brushed his whiskers. He skidded past a tray of little buns and landed beside the swinging doors.

The doors swung toward him.

Milo jumped back.

The mouse slipped through.

Milo sprang forward.

The doors swung again, and this time Milo shot through with a great whoosh.

He landed in a room filled with flour clouds.

“Goodness!” cried someone.

Milo blinked. A woman in a blue apron stood beside a table. Her brown hair was tied up in a scarf, and a white smudge covered one cheek. She held a mixing spoon in one hand.

The mouse sat on a sack behind her. Its nose twitched.

Milo tried to move quietly.

His back paw stepped into a bowl.

The bowl tipped.

Flour flew everywhere.

It landed on Milo’s ears, his nose, and the very end of his tail.

The woman stared.

Then she laughed. “Well, hello there.”

Milo sat very still.

The mouse scampered away, leaving tiny white paw prints behind.

“Oh no,” said the woman. “Not again.”

Milo looked toward the swinging doors. He had found a way into the back room, but the bakery seemed even more puzzling now. The ovens hummed. The doors flapped. A rolling cart blocked the way to the front.

He hurried left.

A sack stood in his path.

He hurried right.

A stack of empty trays stood there.

He squeezed between them and became stuck for one wiggly second.

“Mrrrow!”

The woman set down her spoon and hurried over. “Easy, little cat. Don’t push.”

Milo stopped pushing.

The woman moved one tray. Then another. The path opened.

“There you are,” she said. “You don’t have to rush. Look first.”

Milo looked.

The bakery was busy, but it was not a maze if he watched carefully. The cart had wheels. The trays had handles. The swinging doors moved back and forth in the same slow rhythm.

Milo took a breath.

“Are you lost?” the woman asked.

Milo gave a small meow.

“I’m Poppy,” she said. “Poppy Crumb.”

Milo glanced toward the front door. Through the glass, he could see the street and the far-off garden lane. Home was somewhere beyond the red gate.

Poppy followed his gaze. “You want to go out?”

Milo nodded.

“Then we’ll get you there.” Poppy pointed to the cart. “Wait until it rolls past. Then walk behind it.”

Milo watched.

The cart rolled left with a gentle squeak.

Milo walked behind it.

He reached the front room, where the door stood only a few steps away.

At that very moment, a customer opened the door from outside. A cool breeze swept in. The bell jingled. Milo’s fur lifted.

He dashed toward the opening.

A tray of warm rolls sat beside the door.

Milo stopped so quickly that his paws slid.

The rolls smelled buttery and soft. One roll tipped toward the edge.

Milo reached out and caught it with his paw.

“Good catch!” Poppy called.

The customer blinked at Milo. “Is that your new helper?”

Poppy came hurrying from the back room. She picked up the roll and set it safely on the tray.

“I don’t think he planned to help,” she said.

Milo tried to step around the tray.

His tail brushed a small bowl of flour.

The bowl tipped.

A white puff landed on his head.

The customer smiled. “He certainly looks ready for work.”

Poppy looked at Milo. She looked at the busy bakery. Then she looked at the mouse’s floury footprints leading toward the shelves.

“You know,” she said, “I could use an extra pair of paws today.”

Milo’s ears turned sideways.

“Only if you want to,” Poppy added. “You can help me watch the rolls while I carry this tray.”

Milo wanted to say that he needed to get home. He also wanted to say that the rolls smelled wonderful. Instead, he sat beside the tray and placed one paw on the floor.

Poppy tied a little blue apron around him.

It was much too big.

The apron dragged behind Milo like a blanket. He took one step and tripped. He took another step and stepped on the corner.

Poppy folded the bottom twice and tied it again.

“There,” she said. “Now you look like a proper helper.”

Milo looked down. The apron had a pocket. His tail poked through a loop in the back.

The customer clapped softly. “What a fine baker!”

Milo puffed out his chest.

For the next few minutes, he tried his new job. He sat near the cooling rolls. He watched the mouse peek from behind a sack. He nudged a loose napkin away from a puddle of water. When Poppy carried a tray, Milo walked beside her, careful not to bump the table.

The bakery felt less confusing when he had a task.

But Milo still wanted to go home.

When the front door opened again, he saw the street. Beyond the flower shop, he could just see the road that led back toward the garden.

Milo slipped away from the tray.

He hurried to the door.

“Milo!” Poppy called.

Milo stopped.

Poppy stood behind him with a round basket in her hands. Inside were golden rolls tucked beneath a clean cloth.

“I have a delivery for the clockmaker,” she said. “The shop is on the next street. Would you carry this with me?”

Milo looked at the basket.

Then he looked at the door.

The clockmaker’s street was not the street to his home. But it was outside. It was a step in the right direction, even if it was a very wiggly step.

Poppy placed the basket in his front paws.

It was light enough to carry, though the rolls made a soft, warm smell rise around his nose.

“There we are,” she said. “Hold tight.”

Milo held tight.

A bell jingled above the door. Poppy opened it wide. Sunlight spilled across the floor, bright and golden. The fresh air touched Milo’s floury whiskers.

He stepped outside wearing the blue apron, carrying the basket of rolls.

A passerby pointed. “Look! Poppy’s new helper!”

Milo tried to look serious.

His apron pocket caught on the door handle.

He took one more step.

The apron tugged.

Milo stopped.

Poppy gently freed the pocket. “Careful, helper.”

Milo nodded as if he had meant to do that.

Together, they started down the street. The bakery door swung shut behind them, and the warm smell of bread followed like a soft cloud.

Milo had wanted only to find his way home. Instead, he had earned an apron, a basket, and a job he had never asked for.

Still, the basket was snug in his paws, Poppy was walking beside him, and the road ahead was sunny.

Sometimes a wrong turn can lead to a kind new beginning.

End of chapter one. 4 more chapters and about 7,914 words in the full book.