Babushka’s Cat
    
I sighed as I looked around the room I’d just prepared for Babushka, my grandmother, who would be arriving from Russia in less than a week. Mama had ordered all the furniture from Pottery Barn so everything would be “just so.” I had tried to convince Mama that my puppy, Cony, could stay, but she had said firmly, “A trial run of three days. No more no less.” And there was no arguing with Mama when she was in that mood. You see, I loved Babushka, but she had one problem for my sweet little puppy . . . a cat. Lo was a mean old cat, but Mama claimed that he would need his rest in his old age. Ha!
    
Babushka arrived with hustle and bustle and lots of extra cleaning (for me). We ate a quiet supper of borsch, a Russian soup, and then Mama and Babushka sat down to a Russian movie, and I headed upstairs to finish my homework and read if I had the time. I spoke some Russian, but not enough to understand a movie in the language.
    
About three hours later, after I was in pajamas and ready for bed, I heard Babushka yelling in Russian, “My cat! Where is my sweet Lo? The dog has eaten him! I am sure of it!”
    
I ran downstairs, preparing to stand up to Babushka, but I couldn’t do it. So I helped her look for Lo. We looked high and low. Finally I checked in Babushka’s room, which was on the top floor, and there I found Lo and Cony. Cony had her eyes closed, and Lo was licking Cony’s ears.
 
I called Babushka and Mama up to the room, and all three of us stood for a moment, and at last Mama said, “Well, I guess cats and dogs can get along. What an unexpected friendship!”