From the time she was little, Meg loved animals, cats in particular. Living on a farm, her family was often given its fair share of stray "barn cats", and Meg loved each and every one. They were all so different, and had such unique personalities, that she couldn't help from loving them.

But one cat was especially special to Meg, and that was Sophie Cat.

    Sophie Cat had been found as a tiny stray kitten, wandering near the creek by the barn. Meg had been playing near the weeds at the water's edge when she heard the faintest "meow" she had ever heard, like a little bell tinkling. Out of the tall weeds came teensy-tiny, itty-bitty Sophie Cat. She was very hungry and she needed Meg. Meg decided right away to take Sophie Cat home.

  Sophie Cat was so small at first, Meg could hold her in the palm of her hand. She looked at this tiny creature, resting curled in her palm, with her little purrs sounding as loud as her small body would carry them. And Meg knew right away that she loved Sophie the most.

      In return, Sophie Cat loved Meg. She loved her bowls of warm milk. She loved sleeping on Meg's bed, purring like the hum of a motor as she billowed deep into Meg's hair and nuzzled her neck. She loved the barn with its hay loft and field mice. She loved the creek with its tadpoles in spring and the sound of splishy-splashy frogs in late summer. Sophie Cat loved her new home, and her family, and she grew and grew.

  Sophie peered around the corner, sniffing the bacon and eggs and dark coffee, the usual breakfast smells on the farm, but Sophie Cat was nowhere in sight.

  "Have you seen Sophie Cat?", Meg asked her mother. 

   Mother continued to stir the eggs. "No honey, I haven't. You know Sophie--Miss Adventure, I call her. She probably went out with Daddy to the milk barn to aggravate the cows for some fresh milk."

     So Meg went back home and changed into her jeans and favorite faded t-shirt. She gulped down a glass of juice and headed toward the door. Sophie Cat was probably at the creek, she decided. So off went Meg, calling "Sophie Cat, Sophie Cat, where are you?" as she tromped down through the overgrown meadow-path that led to the water.

  Meg came from out of the bright sun of the meadow, and walked along on a dusty, rocky path toward the forest. She crept down through the cool shade to the water's edge, eyes open and ears listening intently. The tadpoles Sophie had enjoyed trying to capture in the spring were now full-grown frogs, singing their frog song to all who would listen. Sophie Cat often came here to try to snatch one in her paws, but today, there was no sign of her.

  Meg checked all the usual places...the barn loft, the dusty attic of the farmhouse, the broom closet, under the beds....even the bee tree, as Meg called it. Sophie had discovered a tree with a bee hive in it, and thought it was great fun to agitate the bees. Meg was afraid of the bee tree, but still, she went anyway. This was not like Sophie Cat to disappear. Not at all.

"Sophie is almost a grown cat now, Meg," said her mother. "She is more independent of you now. She is safe here, Meg, and she knows this farm. When she is good and ready, she'll come home."

  Meg's mother placed a helping of steaming chicken on her plate and waited for her to take a bite. Meg only pretended to eat, as she shuffled the food around on her plate. Normally Meg would have devoured her favorite dish. But the more she thought about Sophie Cat being alone and sick, the more nervous she became. What if she really WERE sick? What if she had wandered too far into the woods and gotten lost?

  That afternoon Dad announced that a storm would be moving in. The sky was a brilliant azure and the soft, billowy clouds moved lazily across it, like white sailing ships on the sea. Storm? How could there be a storm?

  Yet Meg found herself admitting her father was right as the August heat intensified. Drops of sweat ran down her face as she took the dry clothes from off the clothesline for her mother. The clouds, so spectacular only a few hours before, were being replaced with ominous black clouds that looked angry and full of malice. Meg could think of only one thing, and that was Sophie Cat, being alone in a storm.