This is my great-grandmother's cat, so docile on her lap. She's knitting and he's not even chasing the yarn. But I have a cat that looks remarkably like this one and my cat can act demure and innocent one moment, then get into mischief as soon as I turn my back.
So it is with The Luck of the Buttons's Leopold, who belongs to the elderly Thompson sisters but, unbeknownst to them, finds adventures all over town.
Leopold outsized most raccoons. His belly hung so low he collected all manner of leaves and ground scraps, which he then left on the library carpet every time someone let his shaggy self through the door. You could always tell where Leopold had been when you went into the library, as there was a trail of leaves and grass marking his path, like Hansel and Gretel's crumbs. Usually he went to the children's area, because he got lots of attention there until somebody's mother shooed him out. Then he went scurrying in a straight line for the door, mewing as if maimed.
How a cat that fat had gotten himself up in the apple tree Tugs couldn't imagine. But sure enough, there he was, the tiny sisters carrying on beneath the tree.