Mittens' First Night: a free five-minute bedtime story about a kitten's first night in a new home

Mittens was a very small kitten with grey fur, white paws, and a tail that stood straight up like a little flag. Today, Mittens had come to live in a new house. The new house had tall windows and a soft rug and a girl named Ada who had carried Mittens inside, very carefully, with both hands. All afternoon it had been wonderful. There was a bowl with her name on it. There was a ball with a bell inside. There was a patch of sun on the floor that was exactly the right size for a kitten. But now it was night, and the house was dark, and Mittens was in a basket by herself. Tick, tick, tick, went something on the wall. Mittens flattened her ears. What was that? She crept out of her basket and across the rug, one soft paw at a time, until she found it. A round thing with two thin arms, ticking away to itself. "Oh," said Mittens. "It's only a clock." It did not look dangerous at all. It was just counting, slowly, the way clocks do. She went back to her basket. She curled up. She closed her eyes. Hummmmm, went something in the kitchen. Mittens' tail puffed up. What was that? She crept through the dark kitchen until her nose touched something tall and cold and smooth. It hummed, low and steady, like a very big bee that was not going anywhere. "Oh," said Mittens. "It's only the fridge." She remembered now. Her bowl of milk had come out of it. It was keeping the milk cool for the morning. That was kind of it. She went back to her basket. She curled up. She closed her eyes. Plink. Plink. Plink. Mittens sighed a tiny kitten sigh and went to look. It was the tap over the sink, dropping one drop at a time into a cup. Plink. Like a little bell. Like her ball. "Only the tap," said Mittens. The house was full of sounds, but none of them were scary, once you knew their names. The clock. The fridge. The tap. They were just the house, breathing. Still, the basket felt very big for one small kitten. Then Mittens heard another sound. The softest one yet. It came from down the hallway, through a door that was open a crack. In. Out. In. Out. Mittens padded down the hall and peeped in. There, in a bed, under a quilt covered in stars, was Ada. Fast asleep. Breathing. In. Out. Mittens did not need to ask what that sound was. She knew it already. It was the sound of the person who had carried her inside with both hands. She hopped up, very lightly, onto the end of the bed, and turned around three times, and settled into the warm dip beside Ada's feet. The clock ticked. The fridge hummed. The tap went plink. And in the middle of all the sounds of her new house, Mittens tucked her nose under her white paws, and purred, and fell asleep.

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