Now the entire family is staring at the poster I made, and I start to get a little tingle in my fingers, a familiar queasy feeling in my stomach. As Gramps leans over to get a closer look at it, he meets my eyes and sort of squints at me and turns his head, almost like he’s trying to telepathically communicate something to me. It’s a look that makes me wonder if he’s figured out that this was the thing I had printed out just that afternoon.

I start to worry he might say something, but just then, Catniss jumps up on the counter and sits herself right down on top of the paper. She stretches out her front leg and starts licking her paw, then draws it over her face again and again.

Perfect timing, I try my telepathy on Catniss.

In response, Catniss yawns in that way that shows her tiny sharp teeth, making her look like a miniature tiger.

“Catniss,” Mom scolds, “the kitchen counter is not a place to take a bath.”

Mom pulls the sheet of paper out from under the cat. Catniss meows and it sounds like she’s whining “Mo-oo-om” just like a real human kid would.

I silently thank Catniss for creating a diversion.

Mom pulls her phone out of her pocket, looking back and forth between the phone and the paper as she dials the number. I hold my breath as I hear ringing through the other end. It rings once, twice, three times—Macy, pick up—four times, and then, “He-hello?”

“Hello,” Mom says. “I’m with the county animal shelter, and I’m calling about a lost dog notice that I saw for Dewey. I think we may have her.”

I can’t tell exactly what Macy is saying, but I can hear her voice muffled through the phone.

“Okay, well, is there a grown-up I could speak with?” Mom says, and after a few seconds continues, “They’re busy right now? All right, well, do you think you could ask them to give us a call back at the shelter tomorrow? Great, can you write down this phone number—I’ll wait. Okay, it’s five, five, five . . .”

Macy did it!

“You’re welcome,” Mom says into the phone, smiling warmly. “I’m glad we found her too. Okay, goodbye.”

She really did it!

“Well?” Mama prompts.

“It sounds like this dog belongs to them.”

“That’s great!” I shout.

“Wait a minute.” Mom scrunches up her forehead. “Why are you so happy about that—I thought you wanted to adopt her?”

“But you said we can’t, right?” I double-check, just in case.

“That’s right.”

“So if we can’t have her . . .” I pause, thinking fast. “Then I’m glad she’s at least going to be reunited with her family.”