The Baker's Cat

This story is part of a collection of original fairy tales I put together, mostly cobbled together from the stories my grandmother would make up and tell me. I published them on Amazon, and you can check them out here if you want. This is just one story.

There once was a baker who was renowned for his incredible pastries. His cakes were mildly decorated, but their taste was impeccable. He'd come to own his shop through hard work and years of self-denial. He'd been faced with more financial difficulties than most, had lost his apartment, and his wife had run off with a rich investor.

But his dream still became a reality. He owned his little shop on a little street corner. He had four assistants helping him cook, decorate, and deal with customers. He also had a cat, Mr. Cobbles, who was in charge of keeping the place free of mice and who regarded the entire bakery staff, not just the baker, as his family.

Mr. Cobbles took great pride in his job! Whereas other bakeries and restaurants had to resort to placing poison all over the place, the baker called Carston Winslow had only to look to Mr. Cobbles. He was good for business, too. Every child wanted to buy treats at the shop where the cat worked, and Mr. Cobbles enjoyed the attention he got from customers. He gladly chased out the mice, for Carston gave him ample treats for his work and the customers gave him a lot of love.

One day, a fierce competitor arrived just down the street. Winslow Olson was a celebrity baker who boasted of baking the cakes and other pastries for the most high-class weddings and of baking for well-oiled politicians. His cakes were a sight to behold! He could bake a cake that looked like a clock, or one that looked like a bust. They were decorated even more intricately than Mr. Winslow's, but to bake a beautiful cake is only one part of being a successful baker.

There was a fault with this new man's cakes in that they tasted very ordinary. Mr. Winslow's cakes were much more delicious, even if they weren't quite as decorative as this new man's, and so his customers remained loyal to him, even if they went down the street for autographs.

Despite the new baker's celebrity status, he grew jealous of Carston Windlow's bakery and plotted to ruin it. He began by releasing large quantities of mice inside the shop, expecting that the bakery would get shut down; but he forgot about the cat who lived there and the mice were quickly driven out.

Winston Olson was lost in deep thought as he paced around his supply room. There was no way for him to directly attack the other bakery without drawing suspicion to himself, and he had a reputation to maintain on top of it.

He called his son to him and asked, “Eddie, was not that other bakery infested with mice last week?”

“I doubt it,” Eddie replied, “for Mr. Winslow's cat keeps his shop clear of pests, which means he doesn't have to risk exposing his ingredients or pastries to poison. No mouse would last more than minutes with that cat on the loose!”

Winston's eyes lit up with the devious plan to kidnap Mr. Cobbles. With the cat gone, he could gather up the mice and release them near the bakery once again to wreak havoc on poor Mr. Winslow and his fine-tasting confections. Moreover, it wouldn't be hard to catch a cat, and no one would suspect him if he got rid of it quietly, or so he thought.

The next morning, Winston Olson took an old box from storage and bought a can of tuna. Then he went as inconspicuously as he could over to Carston's Corner Bakery where he spotted Mr. Cobbles sitting in a windowsill. He knew from watching Carston that he always left on Tuesdays to run some errands and that there was only one assistant on duty during this period – and his job was to stay at the cash register!

The window Mr. Cobbles sat at was in the back of the store. It was purely decorative with no screen, but it could be opened nonetheless. From inside, Mr. Cobbles watched with mild curiosity as the strange man, tall and suited up with a poncho villa mustache, waltzed over to his window.

“Hey kitty cat,” he said genially, “would you like a can of tuna? You should have a little fun in your life.”

Mr. Cobbles didn't understand human speech, but his curiosity was piqued when the man wriggled his fingers beneath the window frame and, with a little exertion, managed to lift it up just enough for Mr. Cobbles to fit under if he tried.

Then, with a sly smile and excited eyes, the man produced the can of tuna from his pocket and opened it right then there. His senses all ensnared by the delicious smell, Mr. Cobbles clambered out of the window and jumped onto the sidewalk below. The man placed the can inside a cardboard box and Mr. Cobbles, excited to be treated with tuna, happily jumped inside.

He was so enraptured as he ate that Mr. Cobbles didn't even notice the man closing the box up, and when he noticed the box was being lifted, he simply assumed the man was bringing him back to the shop, for Mr. Cobbles didn't often get to go outside. Mr. Winslow knew the Bird Watcher's Society would throw a fit, and the poor cat could get hit by cars or preyed upon by raptor birds, so Mr. Cobbles was often inside the bakery or Mr. Winslow's home where he would be safe and content.

He finished licking up the tuna, ensuring not a crumb was left before he noticed that he was still in the box, and the box was still swaying and jostling as though being carried! Looking up, he could see small glimpses of unknown shop signs whizzing past the thin cracks of the folded cardboard overhead.

It felt as though his heart dropped into his stomach. It was slowly dawning on him that this man was taking him away from his home, from his warm place by the bakery's ovens, the affection from Mr. Winslow and his customers, and from the treats he was so kindly rewarded with for doing his most important job!

The man stopped abruptly and entered his own bakery from the back. He opened the box and thrust Mr. Cobbles into a small cage he'd brought from home. Making one last check that the cat's paws couldn't undo the latch, he coldly walked into the main storefront, not even bothering to look back at poor Mr. Cobbles.

Mr. Cobbles began to mew mournfully, for this was not his bakery or the owner he loved so much. The strange man did bring him a small platter of milk to hush him up, but it did little to comfort him – a mere distraction from the pain of separation.

Some hours passed with the only company Mr. Cobbles receiving being the various staff as they collected ingredients to bring into the kitchen. He could hear people chatting, customers going in and out, and even a mouse or two scurrying to and fro, but there was nothing he could do and no one to see.

Then someone new came into the storeroom, a child of about nine or ten-years-old by the look of him. He was handsome like the strange man, his hair clipped nicely and well-groomed. He smiled at the cat and scratched his head. Mr. Cobbles began to purr at that, for it was the only attention he'd had all day, and he was eager for a friend.

The boy said a few words that Mr. Cobbles couldn't understand and then grabbed an apron from a peg and went into the kitchen. More hours passed, although the boy was kind enough to bring him water and snacks throughout the day until evening finally fell upon the little street.

Leaving Mr. Cobbles in his cage, the shop was locked up and its residents gone. It was suddenly very quiet and even more lonely for the poor cat. He tried in vain to open the cage door, but it was all in vain. Even if he'd succeeded, he'd spent the day looking for a way to get back outside, but he couldn't see any windows, and the door was always shut tight.

Just as he was about to lose all hope, a bright light suddenly flashed into being. Mere inches from the little cage, it had no source; and it did not stream but existed as though it were a tiny orb. Slowly it grew and began to take shape – the shape of a cat that made almost entirely of light, the calico patterns in its fur barely discernible.

“Who are you?” Mr. Cobbles asked.

The luminous cat seemed to flicker with joy. “Why, I'm your fairy godmother!” she replied. “You've been a very hardworking and kind cat, and we fairy godmothers reward those cats like you!”

Mr. Cobbles was filled with elation. Was this fairy godmother of his going to break him free? Would she whisk him away back to his bed at Mr. Winslow's house?

“Your hardworking nature does you well,” she continued, “and every hardship is a learning experience. I will give you the gift of Universal Speech to help you get home. With it, you can speak to any creature you like, not just cats. That means you can talk to humans, birds, spiders – anything!”

The fairy godmother suddenly flashed so brightly Mr. Cobbles had to shut his eyes. When he opened them, she was gone, the room pitch black once more. Mr. Cobbles tried calling out, but there was no one to hear him. At least not yet.

“I'll wait for that boy,” he thought to himself. “He'll help me, for he is kind and gentle.”

The night passed slowly, like sitting kenneled in the waiting room at the veterinarian's. He knew when morning arrived, though, as the strange man entered the room from the door, allowing the dawn's natural sunlight to pour in before turning the lights on and shutting the door.

“How are you doing today?” he asked Mr. Cobbles, who knew better than to answer the man. He slid another can of tuna in through the cage bars and continued, “I haven't decided what to do with you yet, but if I can't keep you, I promise not to destroy you. Maybe the animal shelter, although I can't guarantee they won't euthanize you.”

Now that Mr. Cobbles could understand all of human speech without difficulty, the man's words chilled him to the bone. He could only wait in his cage and hope that the boy would listen to him and get him out of this mess.

He waited as the day rolled on, unfamiliar staff going in and out of the storeroom as though he didn't exist. His mind was like a roller coaster, sometimes being so worried that he couldn't eat and felt as though he could vomit and other times feeling optimistic and hopeful, empowered by his new gift. After all, the fairy godmother wouldn't have given it to him if there wasn't a chance, right?

At last the boy came to work in the shop. He could hear his voice crying from the kitchen, loudly asking, “But why, Father, why? Can't you do it differently?” He heard the strange man's voice answer, but the words were muffled and sounded more like a growl.

Then he entered the storeroom, anticipating seeing the cat through his teary eyes. Setting down his schoolbooks, he stooped in front of the cage and scratched Mr. Cobbles behind the ears again. Having composed himself a bit, he now looked concerned. He wasn't the gleeful little boy of yesterday, but he wasn't in hysterics any longer.

“What's the matter?” Mr. Cobbles asked.

The boy was taken aback and scooted away from the cage.

“You can talk!” he exclaimed.

“Well, I can now,” Mr. Cobbles replied. The boy looked confused and frightened, so he elaborated: “I was catnapped by the strange man. He lured me outside my family's bakery with fish, then he stuffed me into a box and brought me here for some reason.”

“He brought you here so he can release more mice in Mr. Winslow's bakery! The man is my father, Winston Olson. I'm Eddie, by the way. Anyway, he's jealous of your bakery because you have the most loyal customers. My father wants to be the best baker, but he's mostly known for his decorating and serving high society people., you see.”

“From my windows, I see all kinds of people walking by. Enough people for two or even more bakeries!” Mr. Cobbles replied. “I can't eat most of the stuff in the bakery, but I know there's plenty of people.”

Eddie sighed. “I suppose there's no use in explaining business and economics to a cat, but my father wants his bakery to be the only one in this area. People like the way your bakery's cakes and things taste better, and since he doesn't get reviews like yours does, he wants to force your shop to close! He let some mice loose, but you got rid of them, so that's why he took you.”

“He's going to release more mice!” Mr. Cobbles cried. “And if he wants to be the best, why not make better treats?”

Eddie shook his head, replying, “He focuses too much on making his creations look nice. He'd rather quickly eliminate his competition and then work on his taste than lose customers to your bakery while he master's his own craft. That's just the way he is. I'd rather he do the opposite, but he says that makes me weak in business. I think it makes me a good baker!”

Mr. Cobbles just shook his head, glad that he didn't have to think about any of this, and glad that his own family didn't try to sabotage Eddie's father's business because of jealousy over the way his goodies looked. All he ever had to worry about was driving out the mice and seeing to it that the customers were satisfied.

“I have to find a way to get you out of here and back in your own shop without my father knowing I did it!”

“Eddie!” Mr. Olson shouted from the front. “Stop playing and get back to work! Time is money, you know!”

With a promise to return, Eddie donned his apron and went into the kitchen. Mr. Cobbles, though still away from home and shop, was feeling much better after talking to Eddie. For such a wicked man Winston Olson turned out to be, Eddie was the kind of child Mr. Cobbles liked to see in the bakery – the kind that would give him extra attention while his parents browsed for cupcakes or donuts.

He spent the rest of the day watching the staff go in and out, as usual. Sometimes Mr. Olson himself would come into the storeroom to check something, and Eddie came in as often as he could, and he usually brought a little snack with him for Mr. Cobbles!

Towards the end of the day, Eddie came back with a clipboard, telling his father that it was his turn to do inventory. Mr. Olson gave him a don't-spend-all-your-time-petting-that-call look and went about his own business at the front again.

“I have a plan!” Eddie exclaimed as he began counting the stock of frosting. “I was thinking, my father will be setting the traps up to catch all the mice again so he can release them in your store. Since you can talk, maybe you can get the mice to let you out! Mice can do almost anything, and I'm sure they've never met a talking cat before!”

Mr. Cobbles didn't like that plan, for he didn't like mice! Moreover, his family didn't like them, either. He wasn't sure why, but Carston was always angry if mice got anywhere near his storeroom and was always very pleased when Mr. Cobbles kept them away.

Still, he relented and decided it was worth a try. As Eddie replaced all he'd accounted for, he pulled out some cream cheese. Breaking the brick of cheese into small chunks, he scattered them all about the floor near Mr. Cobble's cage.

“That's how you get them to come out,” Eddie explained. “I have to keep the pieces small, though, in case my father comes back here before closing.”

Mr. Cobbles didn't need to know about using food as bait, as that's exactly how Winston Olson managed to entice him outside the safety of his little bakery and into the trap he'd laid.

When Eddie had laid it all out, he gave Mr. Cobbles a pat on the head with a promise to see him in the morning if he was still there. Otherwise, he vowed to leave the door to the front ajar and the side window slightly cracked open. His father shouldn't notice, and it would give Mr. Cobbles the perfect way to escape if he managed to get free.

Bidding him goodnight, Eddie left the bakery with his father and other staff. The room was black once more and Mr. Cobbles sat in wait.

Several hours went by as he amused himself by purring and thinking of how happy he would be when he got back home before his nose suddenly caught the familiar scent of mice. Scanning the floor, he suddenly saw a portly mouse come scurrying from beneath a pantry, stuffing his mouth full of the tasty morsels Eddie left.

“Excuse me, Mr. Mouse,” Mr. Cobbles said in as gentle a way as he could.

The mouse looked startled, then, as he turned towards the sound of the voice, he became suddenly overtaken by fear. Dropping the pieces of cream cheese he still had in his paws, he started to scramble back to the pantry.

“Wait, please! I can't hurt you!” Mr. Cobbles called. He was still trying to be pleasant, despite his dislike of mice and his lack of faith in Eddie's plan.

“A cat? Talking to a mouse?” The fat little mouse stopped in his tracks and slowly padded his way back to the cage. “And what is your business speaking to me? How is this even possible?”

Mr. Cobbles told his tragic tale to the mouse, who seemed to have a good laugh at his expense.

“You want me to help you?” he asked. “And why should I do that? You chase us out of your bakery whenever we wander in, even if we don't plan on eating that much. I am Mayor Mouse Helter-Skelter, and it's my job to see to it that my colony is safe and their bellies are full! You, sir, are a sworn enemy of ours, the antagonist of our history!”

Mr. Cobbles didn't like that tone. He looked over Helter-Skelter and it was plain that he wasn't anywhere near starving.

“You look very well-fed,” he replied, “and there's plenty of food for you in this city!”

Helter-Skelter shook his head and balled his tiny paws into fists. “That used to be the case, and so we didn't care about your crummy bakery! But then this city-wide cleanup happened and all the garbage we used to feed on got picked up, and what's worse is that people aren't leaving anything else! We're down to our last reserves, and where restaurants and bakeries are concerned, they're little more than a pit of poison lately! Mouse poison all over the good stuff, I tell you!”

“That's not my concern. If humans don't want your kind getting into their food, I can't change that. But I'm away from my home, and I miss my job terribly, just as you would miss your job as mayor of the colony!”

Helter-Skelter was unmoved by the cat's plight, replying that it was also of no concern of his if humans began fighting with each other and Mr. Cobbles became a casualty. After all, Mr. Cobbles never cared if Helter-Skelter or any of his colony suffered from his actions.

With that, the mouse scurried away into the darkness. Mr. Cobbles was alone once more and hadn't accomplished anything.

The rest of the night passed quietly, and the day went by as usual. When Eddie came through the door, he looked surprised to still see him in his cage.

“Didn't the mice come?” he asked, his eyes scouring the floor for crumbs.

“Yeah, the mayor of a local colony came, but he won't help. He says his priority is to feed himself and his colony, but the city cleanup is interfering. There's nothing I can do about it, though.”

Eddie promised to think about it and went about his afternoon chores. Mr. Cobbles spent the afternoon feeling bitter towards the mice and missing his house. When Eddie finally came back, he was wearing an expression Mr. Cobbles had difficulty reading.

“We'll have to get you out soon,” he began, “because my father says he made an appointment with the animal shelter. They'll be willing to take you in a few days, and once that happens, I can't help you unless I think of something really clever.

'Anyway, I told my father that there are missing posters all over the city now. Mr. Winston is very upset that you're gone. They say he's even closed the shop this week to look for you! But my father still won't do anything to help you.”

Mr. Cobbles suddenly felt very bad that while he'd been thinking of his own predicament, he hadn't put much thought into what his family might be feeling. Of course Mr. Winston would be missing him! He told him all the time how special he was!

“I've been thinking, though. The reason why the mice won't help you is because you're expecting them to help you, an enemy, without getting anything in return. Think for a moment what the mouse mayor wants most.”

Mr. Cobbles thought but a moment and replied, “To eat?”

“To eat safely!” Eddie correctly. “They can't eat at the restaurants and other shops because people are putting out poison. If they eat the wrong thing, well, that wouldn't end well for them.”

“I can't let them in my bakery!” Mr. Cobbles protested. “I'm supposed to keep them out!”

“I know,” Eddie said. “I don't plan on letting them have total run of anyone's bakery. I'm going to put more crumbs out. When the mouse comes this time, promise him that you'll always leave a little something for him somewhere in your own storeroom and won't bother him or his colony so long as they don't make themselves known. For example, they can't leave their droppings around the place, and they can't take anything you haven't set aside just for them.”

Mr. Cobbles sat in deep thought. Carston counted on him to keep their food safe from mice, but the mice were the only way he could get home and they wanted a way to eat without fear of poison or cats. But the memories of his dear family overtook all reason and he found that he couldn't help but agree to this one little thing. His family would understand.

That night he sat listening for the sound and smell of mice, and it didn't take long. Out from behind the pantry came Helter-Skelter once more, scurrying about the floor and picking up the delicious bits of food Eddie left just for him.

Spotting the cat's glowing eyes, he called out, “Ah! So you're still here, Mr. Cat!”

“No thanks to you,” Mr. Cobbles retorted. “I have an offer for you.”

The mouse stood up on his hind legs and perked his nose up.

“If you let me out tonight, I'll forever let you have some of my bakery's food. There's a little hole in the corner of the storeroom and I can cram it full of little things you and your colony would probably like. So long as you don't run about the bakery leaving evidence of yourselves, I won't harm you. In fact, I'll do my best to protect your little stash and all who are eating there.”

“Why, there isn't another colony out there as lucky as that!” the mouse exclaimed. “To have a cat as a defender instead of adversary – that's a mighty fine thing!”

He scampered to the cage and undid the latch. Mr. Cobbles, filled with jubilee, stepped out of the cage and into the storeroom proper. Helter-Skelter watched him closely just in case it was a ploy to catch a fat mouse!

Mr. Cobbles went into the bakery's main shop and out the window Eddie had left slightly open. Standing on the dark street, he felt elated to be free for the first time days and immediately went looking for his old bakery.

Sure enough, he saw posters all over with pictures of himself on them. Though he could understand human speech, he still couldn't read it, but he knew his family was doing everything they could to bring him safely home.

He wandered in and out of alleys and up and down sidewalks in search of anything familiar. It was growing colder now, but not so bad that he'd have to abandon his search to seek shelter. Still, he decided to take a break beneath a street lamp when he saw his car come crawling down the street. It stopped abruptly right next to him and Carston came bolting from the car, tears in his eyes and the biggest grin Mr. Cobbles had ever seen plastered on his face.

Plucking the cat from the pavement, he held him close and sobbed uncontrollably into his fur. Mr. Cobbles couldn't cry, for cats don't do that, but he purred more loudly than he ever had in his entire eight years.

That night, he was treated to two cans of tuna and a platter of milk. And the next morning, he was back in his bakery. True to his word, he found some flour and bread crumbs on the floor and carefully maneuvered them into the little hold in the wall he'd told Helter-Skelter about.

Eddie came into the shop, too, to see for himself that Mr. Cobbles had gotten back. He continued to come every day just to see Mr. Cobbles, and the two would occasionally talk in secret if left alone for a few moments.

“I'm learning how to bake more properly,” Eddie said, “so when I take over my father's business, my cakes will be as good as yours!”

Mr. Cobbles had no doubt that Eddie would one day be an excellent baker, but more important was that he was a good friend. In turn, Mr. Cobbles became a steadfast friend to the mice, managing to do his job of keeping them out of the bakery itself while still keeping them safe and full.

Winston Olson gave up his attempts to sabotage the little bakery, and Eddie managed to convince him to start working on his own skill as a baker before causing more trouble for Mr. Winslow.

And so Mr. Cobbles' unhappy adventure came to a pleasant end, not just for himself, but for everyone around him as well.