The Case of the Missing Ninth Fish

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Mary was a cat who took fishing very seriously. She had caught nine different kinds of fish at Cattail Pond — nine! — and she had written every single one in her red fishing log. The log had a little fish doodle on the cover that she had drawn herself. She carried it everywhere. “The log is the whole point,” Mary always said. “Any cat can catch a fish. Only I know which nine.” This particular Tuesday, she arrived at the pond at exactly half past seven and reached into her vest pocket.

The pocket was empty. Mary checked the other two pockets. Tackle. Hooks. A squashed biscuit from last Wednesday. No log. She set her rod down very carefully, the way she always did when she needed to think hard. “Right,” she said to no one. “It was there yesterday. I wrote in it. I put it back. So.” She looked around the pond. Three familiar faces were already settled at the water's edge. Hmm. That was interesting.

There was Wren, the frog, hunched over a large green backpack. Wren collected bottle caps and was always stuffing things away. There was Otto, the otter, who fished at the far rock every morning and whose pockets were famously enormous. And there was Pip, the small hedgehog, who had arrived before Mary — which was unusual — and was reading something flat and red. Mary blinked. Something flat. And red.