The Adventures of Bird and Kitty: Part 1

It Begins with Diary Lust

When I was in first grade, Annie—the nine-year-old deity next door—gave me a diary she never used anymore. It had a dirt-smudged, plastic cover stippled with little geometric designs and red, blue, and yellow flowers. The lock was broken and pages had been ripped out, but notebooks of any kind have always been preposterously sacred to me.

(In my late twenties, I became notorious among my friends for always having a notebook with me and writing stuff down—my friend, Sir, complained it was like having our own paparazzi. I think I received at least six new notebooks for my twenty-eighth birthday. In any given room of my then-apartment [nicknamed The Penthouse], there was at least one notebook within reach. It was getting to the point where I could lift a rock or reach into the hole of a tree trunk and retrieve a stack of bound pages and a pen.)

But back to Annie’s cast-off diary. The blank, lined pages made me want to write something important and beautiful. At six years old, the best I could do was write a sentence-long story on one page, and illustrate the story in crayon on the other. I took the diary to school with me, where I unapologetically helped myself to the heaps of proffered stickers for jobs well done. I’d paste my stolen stickers in the diary, and they’d only further contribute to the book’s magnificence.

Stephanie Gets Bold!

One day, most students went outside for recess, but I lingered in the classroom and asked Mrs. Schuller if she wanted to read my stories. She said not now; she was busy. Undeterred, I plunked myself on top of a desk near the front of the room, cracked open the diary, and started reading out loud. Such audacity! Such chutzpah! Where did it go?? If I still did shit like that, I’d probably be mad famous by now.

Mrs. Schuller abandoned her chalkboard washing or paperwork and drifted over with curiosity. Some other kids who stayed inside wandered over to look at the pictures. I demanded attention, I commanded the room. I think Mrs. Schuller knew how proud I was of my work, and she told me it was wonderful. In a further act of encouragement, she gave me a blank 1989 planner: a pale gray book with elegant pink and white flowers on it. It was far too grown-up for a first grader, but I filled it with diligence and used it to pen my first opus:

The Adventures of Bird and Kitty

Actually, it’s hard to say what the official title is. The cover of the book declares Kitty and Bird (with smiley faces dotting the Is and an outline drawn in the upper left corner awaiting the placement of its Caldecott Medal, the loftiest literary prize in the land). Meanwhile, the title page reads Kitten and Bird, followed by another title page declaring this collection of stories is actually The Best of Bird and Kitty. Consistency is hardly relevant, but capturing the experience of reading a real book is paramount. There’s even a preface of sorts:

Bird (or, interchangeably, “Brid”) and Kitty were best friends who rode bikes and sold lemonade and broke teacups—the crazy kind of shit that results in a real page-turner. I’ll just let the work speak for itself—here are the first two stories, penned in 1990, grammar and spelling intact:

The Brid and the Kitten

OH: said the Little Brid to the Kitten. Can you come to tea? said the Little Brid.
Yes. said the Kitten.
Good! said the Brid.
Then let’s go! said the Kitten.
So the two Buddys walk all the way home. The end

SURPRISE!

It was the little Kitten’s party. Yea! said the Kitten.
Today’s your day said Mother Cat.
Can I invit some Buds ovr?
Yes said Momy cat.
This will be the best party.

You’re just going to have to trust the very reliable narrator on that.

The following year, 1991, conflict was introduced within Bird and Kitty and the stories took on a more emotionally complex tone, such as demonstrated in the following tale:

Kitten Goes to Dance

One day Kitten ran into Bird. “Oh, Bird.” She said. “I got a problem.”
“What is it?” asked Bird.
“I start dance next week!” said Kitten.
“What’s so bad?” asked Bird.
“Oh dear. It’s that I don’t know how to dance!”
“You should have told me.” Said Bird.
“I know.” Said Kitten. [Now go home and give yourself twenty lashings, you withholding, close-lipped monster! How dare!]
“Good-bey!” They said.

A whole week passed. It was the day Kitten Dances!
“Oh dear.” said Kitty.She walked into the dance studio. She saw the black cat. “IH!” She called. [What if we spelled the word “Hi” backward? Let’s explore that!]
She came over. “IH.” She said. “My name is Jill.”
“I bet I’m going to love our teacher.” Kitten said. “My name is Kitty.”
“That’s a nice name.” said Jill.
“Tell me Jill, what is your mom’s name?”
“Mary. Mary Jane.” Said Jill. “What’s yours?”
“Jenny.” Said Kitty. [Has a getting-to-know-you chat ever been so relevant?]
They walked in the dance room. Their teacher was Miss May.

“How was dance?” asked Mother.
“Great!” said Kitten. “Mom,” she said. “Thank you for signing me up.” She gave her mother a hug.
“Your welcome sweetie.”
Then she ran outside to play with Bird and tell him the good news.

And now for some real drama—the time Bird moved away!

Bird’s Big Day

“Why, hello, Jane! What a surprise!” Mrs. Cat cried. “Won’t you come in? I have tea and cookies.”
Mrs. Bird looked down. “Oh, Jenny! I have to tell you something!” She said.
They sat down. “What is it, Jane?” Mrs. Cat asked.
“Oh!” Mrs. Bird began to sob. “Me, Bird, and Derek are moving!” [Derek Bird. I have no words. I also did not mean to rhyme just then.]
Mrs. Cat paused. She was in shock. Mrs. Cat dropped the team pourer. “You’re what!”
“What!” said Kitty who was hid up the steps listening to: Mary had a little lamb. [Kitty eventually went on to be the GM of her college radio station and then a journalist for SPIN, lauded for her cutting-edge musical tastes.]

She tip-toed back to her room and wrote what she just heard. “Dear Diary, Bird is moving! Help me!” She wrote.
“Oh, dear.” Kitty sighed. [Someone has a catchphrase!] Then she heard a knock at the door. “May I come in?” asked a voice.
“OK.” Said Kitty. She got up and opened the door.
“Hi.” Said Bird. “Hear that I’m moving huh?” He said. Bird started to cry.
“Do not worry.” Said Kitty. “Where are you moving?” asked Kitty.
“San Farnsoo.” Said Bird, wiping his eyes. [Could he mean “San Francisco”? Let’s not be presumptuous.]
“Oh,” said Kitty, making a face. “I thought you were going to move to Grove Street.” [I said let’s not be presumptuous, Kitty!]
“No,” said Bird. “My mother does not like Grove Street.” [Evidently, there are just two possible options here: Grove Street or across the country in San Farnsoo.]

“Kitty!” called Mother Cat. “Bird needs to go now.”
Kitty looked out of the top of the steps. She ran down them.
The next day, Kitty rode her bike in her neighborhood. No handed. [Like a bad-ass.] Then…she stopped in front of Bird’s old house. She wondered who would live there now.
Then a car turned the curb. It stopped in front of Bird’s old house.
“Who is there?” asked Kitten.
“It’s me.” Said….Bird!
“Bird?” said Kitten.
“I said I did not want to move!” said Bird. [“Oh!” Jane Bird must’ve said in response to her son’s declaration. She turned the wheel of the moving van stuffed with the family’s worldly possessions she’d spent weeks meticulously packing in anticipation of the exciting, new, prosperous career awaiting her in San Farnsoo. “Well, heck then, why didn’t you just say so?”]
“Let’s play.” Said Kitty.
They rode the bikes, play tag, and had fun all day long.

Rejoice—this groundbreaking tour de force continues!