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Hello friends and welcome to Sleep Tight Stories.
Libby comes home with a project to do and is very excited to get started.
She tells Margarita all about it and then puts on her headphones and gets to work.
When mom comes into her room to see what she is doing, she is surprised.
Libby, of course, can't hear her mom until she taps her on the shoulder, and then they chat about her project.
After dinner, Libby wants to get back up to her room to finish up, but when she gets to her room, there is a surprise waiting for her.
Libby walked in the front door of her house, her arms overflowing with all kinds of art supplies.
She carefully nudged the door closed behind her with a foot, but as soon as it clicked shut, everything she was holding tumbled to the floor with a thud.
Oops, that's not what I hoped would happen, Libby sighed.
Hey, Margarita, would you like to come help me pick this up?
She joked. laughing at the thought of her orange cat helping out.
Margarita trotted over from her favorite nap spot in the living room.
Her orange fur fluffed from sleep and sat in front of Libby, meowing loudly.
Did you come to help or are you just saying hello?
Libby grinned, crouching down to give her silly cat a scratch behind the ears.
After kicking off her sneakers, she plopped onto the floor beside Margarita to give her some pets.
You must have the softest cat fur in the whole world, Libby said as she ran her fingers through Margarita's fur.
Do you see all this stuff I brought home?
Libby asked, pointing at the scattered art supplies.
My art teacher picked me to be in an exhibition at school and she gave me all these supplies to use.
It's not super serious or anything.
It's just for kids.
But I only have tonight to create something.
That's crazy, isn't it?
But I'm kind of excited too.
Margarita purred, closing her eyes as Libby continued petting her, enjoying all the attention.
I guess I never told you that I love painting.
It's one of my favorite things, right up there with reading and music.
It helps me relax, especially when I feel nervous.
I haven't done much art since we moved here, but this semester is cool because I have art class.
As Libby continued talking, Margarita rolled onto her back, batting at one of the brushes that had rolled near her paws.
You're a natural artist too, huh?
Libby laughed.
Maybe you can help me decide what to paint.
I was thinking pizza.
You love pizza, so it makes sense to paint a pizza slice, right?
You are my art muse.
Margarita lazily pawed at the brush, her eyes narrowing into contented slits as she stretched out her paws.
Clearly not planning to contribute much to the art project.
Oh, and guess what?
My art teacher is super cool.
She has tattoos and part of her hair is orange, just like you.
I didn't tell her her hair was the same color as my cat because that might not be nice.
But I did tell her about you and that you like pizza.
She laughed and said she wants to meet you someday.
Do you think that mom would let me color my hair?
Maybe not orange like my teacher, but I was thinking blue would be nice.
Or maybe red.
Meh, was Margarita's reply.
Yeah, I don't think she would let me.
It took me months to convince her to let me wear dark colored hoodies.
So I guess dyeing my hair might take a year.
She is super protective.
But I guess that is because she is my mom. and a bit old.
Libby stood up, scooping the art supplies into her arms.
Well, I better get to work.
I only have tonight, and I want to make the best pizza painting ever.
Margarita followed Libby to her room and jumped up on the bed, her tail flicking back and forth as she watched Libby set up her easel and canvas.
Later, after her mother came home and started dinner, she walked into Libby's room.
Oh, you're painting again, her mother said.
And this looks familiar, but where did you get all the painting supplies?
Libby didn't reply.
She was too focused on her brush strokes and with her headphones on, it would take a lot to break her concentration.
Her mother sighed, walked over, and gently tapped Libby on the shoulder.
Startled, Libby pulled off her headphones, her eyes wide.
Oh, hi, Mom.
I didn't know you were home.
I've been home for an hour, her mother said with a smile.
But you had your headphones on, as usual.
Libby shrugged sheepishly.
Sorry.
I just really get into the zone when I'm reading or painting.
What did you say?
Her mother pointed to the easel.
Where did you get all these supplies?
Paint, canvas, everything?
Oh, my art teacher gave them to me.
She asked me to join the school exhibition tomorrow.
I think I'm a last minute addition because I only have tonight to finish this.
She's a really cool teacher.
That's wonderful, Libby.
I'm glad you have the opportunity to do something you love.
Your pizza painting is looking great already.
Libby beamed.
Thanks, Mom.
I've missed painting.
It's kind of relaxing to just create.
Well, dinner's almost ready.
Why don't you take a break and come eat?
I want to hear all about your day.
Okay, I'll be there in a minute, Libby said. carefully placing her paintbrush down.
Walking into the kitchen, Libby asked, What's for dinner?
It smells delicious.
I made spaghetti and meatballs tonight, her mother replied, stirring the pot on the stove.
I used tomato sauce from a bottle this time, though.
I've just been too busy to make everything from scratch.
Are you hungry?
Yeah, super hungry.
I didn't have time to heat up a snack this afternoon, and I think Margarita might be too.
She usually shares my snack with me.
Those pizza snacks, her mother said, raising an eyebrow.
You should really have an apple or some nuts instead.
Those snacks are meant to be occasional treats, not everyday meals.
I know, Mom, Libby replied, smiling, but it's fun to share with her.
She practically does a dance when she smells pizza.
Yes, she certainly is one silly cat.
Speaking of which, where is Margarita?
Libby asked, glancing around.
She's usually out here at dinner waiting for her turn to eat.
She might be watching the birds at the window, her mother said, nodding towards the living room.
Ever since those crows started visiting the neighborhood, They've been teasing her non-stop.
I'm pretty sure she's plotting her revenge.
Libby laughed, picturing her orange cat on alert.
Those birds have no idea who they're messing with.
So, tell me about your art class, her mother continued.
This is new for the semester, right?
Yeah, it's way more interesting than music appreciation.
That class had too many essays and we always had to stand up in front of everyone to present our ideas.
Ugh.
But this teacher is much cooler.
She has tattoos and even dyed her hair the same color as Margarita.
Oh, no, her mother said, cutting her off.
And before you even ask, the answer is no.
You can't dye your hair orange to match the cat.
Libby grinned.
I was thinking more like blue or maybe red.
Her mother sighed with a smile.
Still no.
After they finished dinner, it was time to feed Margarita.
Right on cue, the orange cat came trotting into the kitchen just as Libby's mother started preparing her bowl.
It's time for our nightly game, you silly cat.
Libby's mom said with a smile.
Mom, why do you even bother?
You know she's just going to choose pizza.
Her mother sighed dramatically, but with a smile on her face.
I like to think maybe, just maybe, one day she'll surprise us and act like a regular cat.
As usual, Libby's mother began with her first offer saucer of milk.
Margarita sniffed at it and walked away unimpressed, as if to say really, this is what you're offering.
Okay, how about this?
Her mother said, setting down a bowl of salmon carefully flaked.
This is fancy restaurant grade fish here margarita, any normal cat would be thrilled.
Margarita gave it one look and turned her back, her tail swishing, like she was offended by the very idea.
Next, we have dry cat food, Libby's mom said, now almost narrating the event like a game show host.
Premium, organic, and highly recommended by veterinarians.
Margarita didn't even bother to look at it.
Instead, she stared up at Libby with wide eyes, like she was waiting for the real dinner to arrive.
You're one unusual cat, Libby's mom said, shaking her head.
Well, we all know what you really want.
Finally, she reached into the fridge, grabbed a slice of leftover homemade pizza and placed it in Margarita's bowl.
Cat's ears perked up immediately.
She bounded over to the bowl, purring as if she had just won the lottery, and devoured the pizza like it was the greatest meal of all time.
Libby giggled.
She doesn't even chew it.
I bet she could finish a whole pizza in under a minute.
Her mother chuckled.
You both could.
Like cat, like owner.
That's probably true, Libby said.
She watched as Margarita finished the slice, licked her mouth clean and padded over to the couch, curling up with a contented sigh.
You know, Libby said thoughtfully, the way she devours pizza, it's like her own little ritual.
Maybe I should make my next painting of Margarita with a pizza crown for my art class.
Her mother laughed.
I'd say she's earned that crown.
And I think our nightly game of what will Margarita eat is going to have the same result forever, Libby said, laughing along with her mom.
She'll always choose pizza.
Probably, her mother replied, but I like the game.
It's our thing now.
It's silly. but it makes the end of the day a little more fun, don't you think?
Libby smiled.
Even with all the changes in her life.
At least she could count on Margarita's pizza obsession to make her laugh.
Can I skip clean-up tonight, Mom?
I need to put the finishing touches on my painting before bed, Libby asked.
She was excited about finishing her pizza slice masterpiece.
It's fine, her mother replied.
There isn't much to do this evening anyway.
I'll drop by to see the final result when you're done.
Libby hurried down the hallway to her room, feeling proud of her work so far.
She turned the corner into her room and froze.
Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped.
Her art supplies were scattered all over the floor tubes of paint rolling around like marbles, and her canvas her precious canvas was face down on the rug.
Mom, she called, I think you better come see this.
Libby carefully turned the canvas over, and as soon as she did, she gasped.
Her beautiful pizza slice, her perfect pizza slice, was no longer perfect.
A large portion of her carefully painted pizza slice had been smeared across the canvas, making streaks of red and yellow.
And all over the bottom of the painting were tiny, unmistakable orange paw prints.
Margarita had struck again.
Libby, what's wrong?
Her mother asked. stepping into the room.
She took one look at the scene and let out a small laugh.
Oh my, it looks like a tiny orange tornado tore through here.
Mom, Margarita ruined my painting, Libby groaned dramatically, collapsing onto her bed.
I spent all evening working on this and now it looks like she was trying to eat the pizza right off the canvas.
Her mother knelt down beside the canvas, inspecting it with a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.
Well, I wouldn't say it's completely ruined, she said after a pause, studying the smudged artwork.
Let's say it's been modified.
Modified?
Libby groaned again, throwing her hands in the air.
Mom, it's a total disaster.
How am I supposed to take this to school tomorrow?
What will everyone say?
Maybe it's not a disaster, her mother said, trying to stay positive.
It's definitely unique now.
You could call it a pizza bite or something.
Just explain to your teacher what happened.
Libby slumped back onto her bed, staring at the ceiling.
Before she could respond, there was a soft, almost guilty meow from the doorway.
Both Libby and her mother turned to see Margarita sitting innocently with her tail twitching, as if to say Why all the fuss?
Look at her, Mom.
She doesn't even care that she destroyed my art project, Libby said, half laughing despite herself and half exasperated.
Her mother chuckled.
You know, in a way, Margarita made the painting a collaboration.
I mean, look at those paw prints.
They add character.
She tapped the painting gently. and it might actually make the painting stand out more.
How many kids can say their cat helped with their school project?
Libby raised an eyebrow, the corners of her mouth lifting into a reluctant smile.
I guess, but I still don't think my teacher will appreciate Margarita's artistic contribution.
Maybe not, her mother said with a grin. but it'll definitely be memorable.
You can tell people it's a mixed media piece.
Acrylic paint and cat paws.
I'm sure your teacher will understand.
And hey, who knows?
Maybe the painting will have a story everyone will love.
Libby finally let out a giggle.
Yeah, right.
Margarita's collaborative art debut.
Maybe she'll get her own gallery.
Margarita meowed again, this time with a bit more energy, as if she fully approved of the idea.
As they stood up to clean the room, Margarita stretched out lazily and rolled onto her back, showing no signs of regret for her artistic debut.
Her little paws still faintly smudged with paint.
Later that night as Libby crawled into bed, she looked over at her finished painting.
A pizza slice with a few smudges, a bite that seemed to have been taken out and a trail of tiny paw prints.
She couldn't help but smile.
Margarita, already curled up at the foot of the bed, gave a soft purr of approval.
Oh, Margarita, Libby whispered. grinning at her furry companion.
You really are an unusual cat.
And that is the end of our story.
Good night.
Sleep tight.
