Bixby’s Bell Undercover — Every afternoon, Bixby practiced tiptoeing across the zigzag rug while the house napped. Jink, jink, said his collar bell anyway. Read the full story →
Every afternoon, Bixby practiced tiptoeing across the zigzag rug while the house napped. Jink, jink, said his collar bell anyway. He wanted one silent trip to the flowerpot, where the daisies smelled dusty-sweet and dared him to sniff them. Then one day the bell gave a cough instead of a jingle.
Because of that, Bixby froze so hard his tail forgot to swish. Because of that, the tiniest voice squeaked from the brass cup at his throat: “Quit shaking my ceiling!” Bixby gulped. He had never answered a bell before. “Who’s in there?”
A crumb-sized cricket crawled out, wearing a speck of lint like a hat. It had been hiding where nobody thought to look, safe from the broom. Bixby puffed up, then stepped carefully to the flowers and let the cricket hop into the cool leaves. Next time you see his bell, listen close for the afternoon’s almost-silent jink, jink.
