The Supercats and the Great Baby Heist

By Tamara Spell

When their humans' baby is kidnapped, mischievous cat Hazel and her feline companions worry life at home will change forever. Fortunately, a lightning strike to the house—along with a touch of old magic—gives the cats superpowers like fast speed, earth-rattling purrs, and hairballs on demand.
Armed with their new abilities, Hazel and her friends decide to rescue the baby. To do so, the normally independent felines must work together to escape a hungry coyote, sneak into a party supply warehouse, resist tempting laser pointers, and outsmart the kidnappers.
Written by a veterinarian, The Supercats and the Great Baby Heist is a fun, fantasy, cattitude-filled tale that fans of Bunnicula and The Secret Life of Pets will love. Ten percent of profits from book sales will be donated to charities that benefit animal welfare.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Jul 1, 2024
• ISBN: 9798350945423

Tamara Spell

Tamara Spell is a mother, veterinarian, and writer who lives in Arizona with her husband, son, and—of course—a cat. She writes feline-inspired stories filled with mischief, magic, and hairballs. When not working or spending time with her family, Tamara loves relaxing at coffee shops, solving puzzles, and ballroom dancing.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

The Stranger

Hello, human. My name’s Hazel, and before we get started, there’s one thing you should know: I’m in charge here.

Everyone in the house listens to me. The humans only needed a little training, and now they do exactly what I want. They feed me, and they jump to attention whenever I want to play. They even do the dirty chore of cleaning my litter box. As for my fellow felines? Some might try to tell you they’re the boss, but don’t believe them—just remember that I’m the head cat.

But don’t worry. I’m a kind and fair leader. Unless you’re a red dot or a bird, in which case you should cower in fear of my amazing hunting abilities.

I’m sure you’ve already concluded that I’m a fascinating cat. But you haven’t even heard about my most unique talent yet—my special powers. So, go ahead and cuddle up in your most comfy chair, preferably with your own feline friend purring in your lap. When you’re ready, I’ll tell you all about the big storm, how I got my powers, and the journey that threatened to steal one of my nine lives.

Let me start by taking you back to the day my adventure began—the day The Stranger came to my house.

That fateful day began with my favorite game—chasing The Dot (or, as you humans like to call it, a laser pointer).

After my second afternoon catnap, I spotted the tiny red light in the living room. Stalking quietly, I tracked it.

The Dot zigzagged behind the couch, taunting me. I swished my tail, waiting for the right moment. Then, I pounced.

Narrowly escaping my claws, the red speck zipped across the room. I followed. The Dot glided up a wall, and I launched myself after it. But the light slipped through my paws again.

Changing course, The Dot traced circles around me. I maintained my pursuit. The circles got tighter and faster. I got dizzy. Halting, I teetered sideways, struggling to keep my balance.

Through my wobbly vision, I watched The Dot vanish into thin air—just like it always did after one of our chases.

Someone giggled and scooped me from the floor. You’re so silly, Hazel. Come on, kitty. It’s time to get ready for my birthday. I’m ten today. It was Piper, my person.

Piper set me on the couch and brushed my fur from her white dress. She offered me a catnip mouse to play with, but what I really wanted was to catch that stubborn Dot.

I noticed Piper’s mom standing on a chair in the dining room. Mom tore pink paper strands from a circular roll and taped them to the wall. I crept toward the chair, eyeing one of the strands. Mom’s movements made it wiggle.

Mom called to Piper. Sweetie, we’re running late. Your friends will be here soon. Why don’t you go outside and help Dad with the bouncy house?

Bouncy house?

Piper always has the coolest toys, so I really wanted to see what a bouncy house was. Like me, Piper also loves playing games. That’s why she made The Dot dart around—so I could chase it. And not to brag, but I came close to catching The Dot a few times.

My person and I have other things in common, right down to our hazel eyes and orange hair—although her hair is longer, more of a dark orange, and curly, while my fur is short with black splotches. With all our similarities and our love of playtime, we were destined to be best friends.

As Piper stepped through the front door, I slinked to the big window, trying not to wake Gus as I passed.

Gus, one of my four feline housemates, slept on his back in a patch of sunshine, paws in the air. His round tummy jiggled with each snore.

The big cat opened an amber-colored eye. Get off the window ledge, Hazel. You’re blocking my sun.

But Piper went outside. I want to know what she’s doing and make sure she’s safe.

Yawning, Gus stretched. His brown tabby coat glistened in the afternoon sunbeams. Okay. I’ll make an exception to the Catnip Agreement today. But if you steal my sunshine spot tomorrow, you’ll owe me your breakfast.

Fine, I agreed. Plus, I want to scare the birds away. They’re mocking me again. They’re getting closer and closer to the window, knowing I can’t reach them through the glass. If only the humans would let me play outside. I’d show those birds who’s boss. On cue, a finch landed on the windowsill and peered at me through the glass. I tapped the window with my paw, making my most menacing eye contact. The finch held its position and stared back, defiant.

Gus joined me on the window ledge. Nice try, Hazel, he said, chuckling. I’m sure you can catch that bird, just like you caught The Dot. Oh, wait—you haven’t actually caught The Dot yet, have you?

Hey, I could catch that red spot if I really wanted to. I just hold back so the game with Piper lasts longer. It’s more fun for her that way. I’m a very selfless cat, in addition to being an expert hunter.

If you say so, Hazel.

In the front yard, beyond the big tree, Dad and Piper unrolled a bundle of sparkly pink and lavender fabric and spread it over the ground. A hissing sound emerged from the material, as if a giant tiger lurked inside. The fabric started to rise, growing to nearly the height of our home. Piper climbed inside the shimmery dome and jumped up and down again and again. She laughed and did some flips as she bounced.

Say, what’s going on today? Gus asked.

Piper says it’s her birthday.

Birthday. Ah, yes, I remember those. Lots of little humans come over, and they—

They’re incredibly loud, a voice said behind us. And incredibly obnoxious.

I turned to see Mini, my calico-spotted housemate, aiming a scowl at us. Her scarred left eyelid drooped, covering the top half of one of her green eyes. Her tail swished back and forth. Though Mini was the smallest in the house, she sure could be intimidating.

And, Mini continued, Mom has to manage all those little humans. That means my person can’t come to our room to pet me until the end of the day. Birthday parties—worst human idea ever.

Please, Mini, Gus said. Last week you said the vacuum cleaner was the worst human idea ever. And the week before, it was the scented candle. You’re just grumpy, as usual.

If I’m grumpy, there’s a good reason. I had a terrible night, I did. The stinkbug was awake at all hours, sniffling and wailing and making Mom get out of bed. I hardly got a lick of sleep. Neither did Mom. Look, she’s still in her pajamas. It’s been like this every night since my room’s been taken over by the hostile intruder.

I smiled. Hostile intruder? You mean baby Lyla?

The three of us looked toward the bright-eyed human baby in her swing near Mom’s chair. Lyla gurgled and drooled.

She’s harmless, I said. The human version of a little kitten. Sure, she’s noisy. And not potty trained, like us. But she can’t even walk yet. How much harm could she possibly do?

Mini sneered. Just because the mouse-brain doesn’t walk, that doesn’t mean she can’t move. She gets around on four legs, like we do. And she’s faster than you might think. She pulled my tail a couple of times. Plus, the diaper she wears smells rotten. It stings my nose if she’s in the room. That little terror is enough to make me want to hide in the basement, like Pixie does.

Gus and I laughed.

Mini opened her mouth. But before any words came out, her gaze shifted to the window. More noisy human invaders are arriving. I’m outta here. The old cat turned and bounded down the hallway toward the bedrooms, moving as fast as her uneven gait allowed.

Mom headed in the same direction with the baby, reemerging moments later in a dress similar to the one Piper wore. She looked so much like Piper, but taller and with darker hair. Carrying Lyla, Mom joined Piper and Dad outside.

Several little humans about Piper’s size found their way to our front yard. They squealed and giggled, jumped in the bouncy house, and played chasing games that looked fun.

In Mom’s arms, baby Lyla stared wide-eyed at the commotion around her.

Behind Gus and me, the vibrations of running footsteps approached from the hallway. Declan, Piper’s little brother, sprinted to the front door, wearing his superhero costume. The boy shouted, Stop, in the name of justice!—the same phrase his favorite cartoon superhero liked to exclaim. Snowball, another of my four feline housemates, frolicked after him, batting his cape with her paws.

Declan abandoned Snowball as he stepped outside, the wind of the closing front door rustling Snowball’s long white fur. Still shouting his superhero slogan, the boy charged to the middle of the group. The girls shrieked.

Mom, Declan’s ruining my birthday! Make him leave, Piper shouted.

As Mom placed herself between the two kids, Snowball approached Gus and me. Her blue eyes gleamed as she said, Aw, Declan doesn’t mean anything by it. He just doesn’t like being left out.

I held my nose high. Well, your person is disrupting my person’s special day. I don’t like that. And don’t you try to jump to the window ledge—there’s not enough room for all three of us up here.

Outside, Mom comforted Piper. Don’t worry, sweetie. It’s time for cake anyway. Let’s go inside. Declan, why don’t you stay out here and use your new electric scooter for a little while?

Declan followed Mom’s advice and rode his scooter. Meanwhile, the front door burst open. A troupe of little humans stampeded through the foyer. The herd bypassed us and headed into the dining room, where they placed wrapped boxes—decorated with pretty strings and bows that looked like they might be fun to play with—on the table.

Mom went to the kitchen. From the living room entrance, I watched Mom adorn a pink cake with little sticks. I smelled fire as Mom made the top of each stick glow with a small flame. Mom carried the fire-topped cake to Piper and her friends.

Next came more giggling and squealing. The partygoers sang, then devoured the cake as Piper opened presents. All the noise made my ears ache, so I stayed by the window and watched the birds. By the time Piper’s friends