He slept in hatboxes and shipping boxes, gift boxes and
takeout food boxes. He slept in Sasha’s sock drawer, if she
left it open. When he was a kitten, the size of a small
loaf of bread, he had slept in shoeboxes. But he grew and
grew, and now he was a lot bigger than a loaf of bread.
When he tried to sleep in a shoebox, his furry tummy
hung over the sides. He still fit in Sasha’s sock drawer, but
she remembered to close it now—most of the time.
Chester didn’t just sit in boxes, though. Sometimes
he sat in flowerpots, casserole pans, or laundry baskets.
One year Sasha got a beautiful dollhouse for her
birthday, a dark green three-story house with lots of fur-
niture. Sasha loved it. So did Chester. He liked to push
the furniture out of all the rooms and sit in the bedroomCHESTER THE CAT was born in a cardboard box with four other
kittens. He was in a smaller cardboard box marked “free kittens” when
Sasha met him and took him home. And from that moment on, he loved
boxes. In the mornings he sat, licking his paws and fur with his tongue, in
the rainbow-colored sunbeam that shone through Sasha’s aquarium.
When he finished grooming, he would watch the fish for a while
and dream of eating them all. Then he would look around for
a box to sleep in.
Illustrated by MIchael Chesworth
text © 2018 by Quillon Dayton, art © 2018 by Michael ChesworthBox Cat
by
Quillon DaytonThe
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