Sir Pickles and the Terrible Tuesday

The first thing people noticed about Sir Pickles was that he walked backward.

Not all the time.

Just whenever he was feeling important.

He also hissed at butterflies for “looking suspicious,” fell off fences at least twice a week, and firmly believed that every cardboard box belonged to him by royal decree.

He was, without question, the strangest cat on Maple Street.

He was also Lily’s best friend.

Every afternoon, she’d race home from school, and before she could even open the gate, Sir Pickles would come charging toward her…

…except halfway there he’d remember he was “important,” spin around, and finish the trip walking backward.

Lily laughed every single time.

“I don’t know why you do that.”

Sir Pickles answered with a loud, dramatic “Mrrrp!”

One rainy Tuesday, Lily came home crying.

She dropped her backpack and buried her face in her knees.

“I don’t have any real friends.”

Sir Pickles didn’t know what those words meant.

But he knew tears.

So he climbed into her lap.

Then sneezed directly into her face.

Lily gasped.

“…Did you just sneeze on me?”

“Mrrrp.”

She laughed so hard she snorted.

Mission accomplished.

From then on, whenever Lily cried, Sir Pickles made it his personal responsibility to do something ridiculously embarrassing.

He’d wear a grocery bag like a cape.

He’d accidentally scare himself with his own tail.

Once he got his head stuck in a cereal box and proudly marched around the house as if he’d invented fashion.

Every single time…

Lily smiled.

Until one afternoon…

She didn’t come home.

Sir Pickles waited by the window.

Then by the door.

Then on the porch.

The sun set.

The porch light flicked on.

Still no Lily.

For the first time in his wonderfully ridiculous life…

Sir Pickles forgot to walk backward.

He ran.