Tabby tells of big and warm houses, meals everyday, soft beds to sleep in and people who stroke your fur. While the other cats laugh at the stories, Alleycat believes. His belief is so strong that he sets out to find one of those big warm houses.

EXCERPT

“Tell me again about the house you used to live in, Tabby,” Alleycat said, blinking away the drops of rain that splashed in his gray eyes as they huddled together under the stinky green dumpster, shivering.

Tabby lifted his head off Alleycat’s back. “I’d curl up in front of a fireplace that sent out a warmth I can’t describe. The little girl that lived there loved me. She’d hold me on her lap and stroke my fur. I ate my meals out of a dark blue bowl. At night before everyone went to sleep, I’d get a bowl of warm milk, and then I’d go to sleep in a nice soft bed.” The orange and brown cat sighed and dropped his head back down. “I sure miss it.”

Alleycat licked a raindrop off his whiskers. “When the rain stops, I’m going to find me a house to live in,” he said.

The next morning Alleycat woke up and found the sun shining, but the alley was cold and wet. Today, he would to set out and find a home. A nice, warm home. He crawled out from under the dumpster and started down the long, dark, littered alleyway.

“Where are you going?” asked Tabby.

“I’m going to find me a house to live in. I’m tired of being cold and hungry.”

The other cats in the alley laughed. The meanest, scrawniest cat laughed the loudest. “You won’t find a house,” he said. “Once an alley cat, always an alley cat.”