Kitten Kaboodle Read Online Free

plan in the first place,’ I said to Jazz on Day Three, slumping into her purple beanbag with the stars on. ‘I don’t know why I thought I could change
my life overnight with some stupid babyish pet-sitting idea.’
    ‘Hey, don’t get stressy!’ Jazz said, sounding, if I may be so bold, quite stressy herself. ‘Maybe the neighbours haven’t gone through their post yet. We get so many
pizza leaflets and stuff. Mum just chucks them all on the side and goes through everything at the weekend.’
    ‘Oh, huge amounts of thanks for your undying support, dear friend,’ I said sarcastically. ‘So my leaflet is like junk mail, you mean?’
    Jazz ignored me and carried on pacing up and down her room, ticking off possible reasons for our neighbours’ non-communicativeness. ‘Or maybe no one needs a pet-sitter right now.
It’s not the holidays yet. Maybe they’ve pinned your notice up and they’ll call you when they need you.’
    I huffed and puffed and took out all my grumpiness on Jazz, which was unfair, but luckily for our friendship Jazz is pretty good at putting up with my moods (i. e. ignoring them), and
double-luckily I didn’t have to keep up the grumpiness for long as someone finally called the next afternoon.
    Unfortunately it was at a very inconvenient time and completely took me by surprise. This was mainly because it was the one day when Dad had actually offered to pick me up from school rather
than making me take the bus.

    ‘What the—?’ Dad leaped about a mile and a half out of his seat and the car lurched dangerously to the right, causing the traffic coming in the other direction to swerve and
honk noisily at us. A man leaned out of his car window and shouted and made a sign with his hand that was definitely not a friendly kind of sign.
    ‘It’s just my phone,’ I said, rummaging in my bag and trying to push down the excited and flut-tery feelings in my tummy and smother them with a layer of calmness instead.
    ‘Your what ?’ Dad snapped, glaring at me in the rear-view mirror.
    ‘My phone – you know, that extremely modern invention which allows humankind to converse with other members of the species from a distance while— I’d better answer
it,’ I said hastily and not at all calmly. ‘Hello?’
    ‘Hello, sweetie!’
    I froze.
    ‘Hello?’ the voice continued. ‘That is Roberta Fletcher, isn’t it?
    No,it’s BERTIE Fletcher, I screamed inside my head, all tangled up with panic and annoyance and confusion.
    ‘It’s Fenella Pinkington, your neighbour from over the road?’
    I’d kind of guessed that, SWEETIE. Why on earth was she calling?
    ‘I’m ringing in response to your imaginative business idea . . . ’ She paused. ‘The Pet-Sitting Service?’
    Of course – the kitten! My tummy clenched itself into a ball as tight and spiky as a baby hedgehog.
    ‘Ye-es?’ I said hesitantly.
    ‘Well, darling, I was wondering if you might like to come and meet my little kitty-cat.’ Pinkella wittered on in my ear while I was quietly freaking in my seat. How was I going to
talk about my Pet-Sitting Service right that instant with Dad listening in?
    ‘I was wondering if you’d be free—’ Pinkella continued.
    ‘Oh, right, sorry . Wrong number,’ I said quickly, and cut her off.
    Darnation and hell-busters! I was in a right state. Why did she have to call while I was in the car with Dad? This was my one and only call from a true and genuine client wanting my Pet-Sitting
Services, and I’d just gone and put the phone down on her! Even if it was Pinkella Deville, I still wanted her custom – especially since she was the only person to bother replying to my
advert and double-especially since she was the owner of that seriously cute, ink-splodge-to-die-for kitten.
    ‘Bit odd, you getting a call,’ said Dad, glancing at me in the mirror again, his eyebrows raised in a suspicious expression.
    ‘Hmm,’ I said, in a non-committal way, looking out of the window.
    ‘Why have