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E very night, people left books in the
     return box of the library in the small town
     of Spencer, Iowa. Funny books, big books,
     truck books, pig books–they left them all.
    But one night,
    on the coldest night of the year,
    someone left a strange surprise…
    A tiny kitten.

    When Vicki the librarian found him the next
     morning, the kitten was cold and scared and
     very, very dirty. Vicki took one look and
     decided to give him a warm bath. The kitten
     went into the sink brown and crying, but he
     came out orange and purring.
    “I’m going to keep you,” said Vicki, who
     already loved him.
    “We’ll name you Dewey Readmore Books.
     You can live here and be our library cat.”

    But Dewey had no idea what it meant to be a library cat.
     So he did what all kittens do—he played.
     
He lounged on the newspaper…
Rode the book cart…
And knocked pens to the floor.
     
He goofed around with Marty Mouse…
Snooped in every open drawer…
And always found at least one rubber band.

    But what Dewey loved most of all was people.
     Tall ones. Round ones. Quiet ones. Loud ones. The
little
ones,
     however, surprised him. And not always in a good way.
    “Look, Nathan,” said his mommy.
    “There’s a cat in the library.”
    Nathan bent down and said, “Hi, Hooey Doowey Yooks.”
    “No,” said his sister, Hannah, “it’s Dewey Readmore Books!”
    Dewey squirmed. The boy was petting him in the wrong
     direction! Dewey loved to be petted, but he
hated
being petted
     in the wrong direction.

    Dewey was licking his fur back into place when
     he heard a strange noise.
    “Waaaa!”
    Dewey’s ears perked up. He looked around.
    “Waaaaaaaa!”

    “Waaaaaaaaaaaa!”
    Dewey sprang to attention and crept
re-e-e-e-eally
slowly toward the sound.

Surprise!
    The little people, Dewey discovered,
     came in tiny sizes too!
    And they loved to giggle.
    And grab.
    And pull.
    And coo.
    Babies are wonderful,
Dewey thought.
Cute and SMELL-icious, too.
     

    A few days later, Dewey went exploring and discovered, in a secret room,
     the most exciting thing he had ever seen. Children’s Story Hour!
    Wowzy whiskers, this looks fun,
Dewey thought,
     as he pushed into the room with his nose.
    Someone shouted:
    “There’s a cat in the library!”
    Dewey froze.
     
    It was quiet for one minute.

    Then everything went wild!

    And the next thing Dewey knew, he was being carried upside-down.
    Oh my,
Dewey thought,
what should I do now?

    L ate that night, Dewey talked to his friend Marty Mouse.
    The library is a wonderful place,
Dewey said,
but I’m tired of being
     pulled and poked and carried upside-down. I’m not just a cat in a
     library, I’m a
Library Cat.
A library cat helps people, I think, and
     I’m ninety-two percent convinced that that’s the reason I’m around.
    Marty Mouse didn’t say anything.
    I’m gonna do it,
Dewey said.
I’m going to help people.
And he felt so
     happy that he threw Marty Mouse into the air, kicked him with his
     back legs, then slept on him like a pillow.

    The next morning, when the first people arrived, Dewey was waiting to greet them right by the front door.
All morning, Dewey acted like a library cat. He read with the mommies and grandmas…
He helped the daddies work…
He even shelved books
     with the library clerk.
     

    When he saw little Nathan, he turned a circle and a half so the
     boy could pet his back from his head down to his tail—the
right
direction to pet a cat.
    “I’m glad we’re friends, De-woo-ley,” Nathan said.
    Dewey smiled at that.

    By lunchtime Dewey was worn out.
    So he found a good box.
    First he put his front paws inside, then his belly.
    He squished his back end down,
    wiggled arounduntil he was all the way in…
    and closed his eyes.
    “There’s an orange muffin in the library,” a girl giggled.
    But just as Dewey was about to drift off into sweet kitten dreams,
     he heard a heavy sigh. His eyes popped open, and he saw a girl on
     the other side of the