Growing Up & Facts of Life
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Leonard (My Life as a Cat)
He's not a stray house cat, he's an immortal being. And now he must choose whether to return to his planet or remain with his new human friend in a humorous, heart-tugging story from the author of I, Cosmo.
The cat that Olive rescues from a flood has a secret: he's not really a cat at all, but an alien who crashed to Earth on a beam of light. The cat, whom Olive names Leonard, was prepared to visit the planet as a human-but something went wrong. Now Leonard may never know what it's like to hold an umbrella, go bowling, or host a dinner party. (And his human jokes still need some work: Knock, knock. Who's there? Just Leonard. It is me.)While Olive worries about whether she will have to move after her mom and her new boyfriend get back from their summer vacation, Leonard tries to figure out how to get from South Carolina to Yellowstone National Park, because if he's not there at the end of the month, he'll miss his ride home. But as Olive teaches Leonard about the beautiful and confusing world of humans, he starts to realize how much he cares about this particular one. A sweet and dryly funny story about what it means to be human-and what it means to be home.
The cat that Olive rescues from a flood has a secret: he's not really a cat at all, but an alien who crashed to Earth on a beam of light. The cat, whom Olive names Leonard, was prepared to visit the planet as a human-but something went wrong. Now Leonard may never know what it's like to hold an umbrella, go bowling, or host a dinner party. (And his human jokes still need some work: Knock, knock. Who's there? Just Leonard. It is me.)While Olive worries about whether she will have to move after her mom and her new boyfriend get back from their summer vacation, Leonard tries to figure out how to get from South Carolina to Yellowstone National Park, because if he's not there at the end of the month, he'll miss his ride home. But as Olive teaches Leonard about the beautiful and confusing world of humans, he starts to realize how much he cares about this particular one. A sweet and dryly funny story about what it means to be human-and what it means to be home.
Editorial Reviews
An alien hurtles toward Earth, expecting to shape-shift into human form and work as a Yellowstone park ranger until his scheduled rendezvous for departure. Instead, his shape is decidedly catlike, and his landing spot (a tree in South Carolina) is way off target...Readers will particularly enjoy Leonard's distinctive first-person narrative, sprinkled with an alien's refreshing observations about the language, habits, and idiosyncrasies of Earth's two- and four-legged inhabitants...Often amusing and occasionally moving, this imaginative chapter book is never less than fully engaging
-Booklist (starred review)
Leonard quotes Walt Whitman, has an affinity for knock-knock jokes and "I Love Lucy" and absolutely adores his shiny yellow rain slicker. Oh, and he's an alien trapped in the body of a cat. . . . Readers will delight in his feline-out-of-water wonder at things we humans take for granted, from cheese to thumbs to umbrellas. They'll also easily relate to his feelings of frustration, longing and excitement as he and Olive learn to accept and celebrate what makes them each unique. . . . Leonard is a witty, inventive and wonderful tale that encourages readers to step back and see the beautiful picture painted by our interrelated world. It invites us to appreciate the marvelous in the mundane, and to take a closer look at the animals we encounter, just in case they've got something important to say.
-BookPage (starred review)
An alien in the body of a cat visits Earth and bonds with a human girl... Humanity isn't just for humans in this earnest, heartfelt story told from Leonard's perspective. The characters experience loneliness and distress, but that makes the happiness and comfort of friendship all the more important. The alien aspect creates intrigue but mostly serves as a vehicle to showcase the preciousness of the human experience from an outsider's perspective... A comforting read about connection and compassion.
-Kirkus Reviews
-Booklist (starred review)
Leonard quotes Walt Whitman, has an affinity for knock-knock jokes and "I Love Lucy" and absolutely adores his shiny yellow rain slicker. Oh, and he's an alien trapped in the body of a cat. . . . Readers will delight in his feline-out-of-water wonder at things we humans take for granted, from cheese to thumbs to umbrellas. They'll also easily relate to his feelings of frustration, longing and excitement as he and Olive learn to accept and celebrate what makes them each unique. . . . Leonard is a witty, inventive and wonderful tale that encourages readers to step back and see the beautiful picture painted by our interrelated world. It invites us to appreciate the marvelous in the mundane, and to take a closer look at the animals we encounter, just in case they've got something important to say.
-BookPage (starred review)
An alien in the body of a cat visits Earth and bonds with a human girl... Humanity isn't just for humans in this earnest, heartfelt story told from Leonard's perspective. The characters experience loneliness and distress, but that makes the happiness and comfort of friendship all the more important. The alien aspect creates intrigue but mostly serves as a vehicle to showcase the preciousness of the human experience from an outsider's perspective... A comforting read about connection and compassion.
-Kirkus Reviews
Readers Top Reviews
The Kerr FamilyLaura
A wonderful MG novel that's very cute and comforting.
Eileen G. ferris
Leonard (My Life as a Cat) is one of those children's books that end up as gifts for children and adults of all ages. Leonard's visit is a trip to celebrate his 300th birthday. Something goes wrong during the intergalactic transmission and feline form instead of human results. He is rescued by a Olive, a girl who thinks he is an ordinary cat at first. Leonard helps Olive deal with some of the human problems in her life. She helps Leonard deal with some of the disappointments associated with feline vs human form. For example, Leonard had wanted to wear a raincoat. Olive finds a second hand dog raincoat as a solution. Both have bigger problems. Olive's mother wants to marry a life coach who hasn't a clue about life. Leonard has to get to Old Faithful or be left on earth. So far the three gift recipients of this book have described it as fantastic, creative, and full of empathy.
C
Never heard of this book until it was suggested by another Wall Street Journal reader in a daily forum post. Being a cat lover as well as an outer space junkie it fit the bill for me. It's actually intended for a youth audience (not a 71-year-old retiree). Regardless, it was a fun palate cleanser from my usual fare of non-fiction history and biographies. I intend to name my next cat Leonard and maybe I will get lucky, too!!
Eniko Darvassy
While the start was a bit slow. This book became very exciting and delivered a great massage. I loved it so much I’ve bought it as a present to my friend’s kiddo too.
Karen T
What a gem this book is. I borrowed it from the library and read it three times before returning it. It made me laugh every time. Then I bought a copy for myself (an almost 70-year-old grandma) and read it again. Then I mailed it to my 45-year-old son who loves his cat. I will be buying a new copy soon. This book is a hilarious treasure.
Short Excerpt Teaser
Humans have it all wrong about aliens. Sometimes I see images of us on television-with enormous eyes, with skin the color of spring leaves-and I wonder: Who thought of this? What reason could they have? Olive always tells me not to watch those shows. "You'll just give yourself bad dreams," she says. So we switch off the TV and curl up by the window, listening to the gentle hush of waves.
But the truth is, I really don't belong here-not permanently, not forever. That's why we're traveling in this Winnebago, zooming down dark roads at midnight. Olive is wearing her frayed overalls, and she's cradling me in her arms.
I don't squirm. I don't scratch. I am not that type of cat.
"You won't forget me," she says, pressing her forehead to mine. "Please promise you won't."
She smells of cinnamon toast and raspberry shampoo. There are daisy barrettes in her hair. And for a second, I consider lying to her-out of love. The words are right there: I will always remember. I could never forget. But I've been honest with her this whole time, and the rules of intergalactic travel are clear.
Tomorrow, I will forget everything I've ever felt.
In my mind, Olive will exist only as data, as pure information. I'll remember her daisy barrettes, our Saturday afternoons by Wrigley Pier-but not how it felt to share a beach towel, or read books together, or fall asleep under the late June sun. And Olive doesn't deserve that. She is so much more than a collection of facts.
Halfheartedly, I summon a purr. It rattles weakly in my chest.
"You get to go home," Olive says, the ghost of a smile on her face. "Home."
The Winnebago speeds faster, then faster still. Outside, the sky is full of stars. And I want to communicate that I will miss this-feeling so small, so earthly. Am I ready to go back? Half of me is. And yet, when I close my eyes, I picture myself clinging to the walls of this motor home.
Olive sets me down on the countertop, the plastic cool under my paws. Opening her laptop, she angles the keyboard toward me, a gesture that says, Type, will you? But I shake my head, fur shivering.
"You don't want to talk?" she asks.
What can I say? I owe it to Olive not to make this any harder. So I won't use the computer. I won't tell her what I've been hoping-to maybe carry one thing back. Maybe if I concentrate hard enough, a part of Olive will imprint on a part of me, and I will remember how it felt. How it felt to know a girl once.
"Okay," she says, shutting her laptop with a sigh. "At least eat your crunchies."
So I eat my crunchies. They're trout-flavored and tangy on my tongue. I chew slowly, savoring the morsels. This is one of my last meals as a cat.
I haven't always lived in this body. Leonard wasn't always my name.
Olive pats my head as I lick the bowl clean. "I know you didn't want to be a cat," she says, so softly that my ears prick to hear her, "but you are a very, very good cat."
I want the computer now. My paws are itching to type: You are a very, very good human. Because she is. And she will be, long after I'm gone.
If you allow yourself, you might like our story. It's about cheese sandwiches and an aquarium and a family. It has laughter and sadness and me, learning what it means to be human.
On my journey to Earth, I was supposed to become human.
That is where I'll begin.
But the truth is, I really don't belong here-not permanently, not forever. That's why we're traveling in this Winnebago, zooming down dark roads at midnight. Olive is wearing her frayed overalls, and she's cradling me in her arms.
I don't squirm. I don't scratch. I am not that type of cat.
"You won't forget me," she says, pressing her forehead to mine. "Please promise you won't."
She smells of cinnamon toast and raspberry shampoo. There are daisy barrettes in her hair. And for a second, I consider lying to her-out of love. The words are right there: I will always remember. I could never forget. But I've been honest with her this whole time, and the rules of intergalactic travel are clear.
Tomorrow, I will forget everything I've ever felt.
In my mind, Olive will exist only as data, as pure information. I'll remember her daisy barrettes, our Saturday afternoons by Wrigley Pier-but not how it felt to share a beach towel, or read books together, or fall asleep under the late June sun. And Olive doesn't deserve that. She is so much more than a collection of facts.
Halfheartedly, I summon a purr. It rattles weakly in my chest.
"You get to go home," Olive says, the ghost of a smile on her face. "Home."
The Winnebago speeds faster, then faster still. Outside, the sky is full of stars. And I want to communicate that I will miss this-feeling so small, so earthly. Am I ready to go back? Half of me is. And yet, when I close my eyes, I picture myself clinging to the walls of this motor home.
Olive sets me down on the countertop, the plastic cool under my paws. Opening her laptop, she angles the keyboard toward me, a gesture that says, Type, will you? But I shake my head, fur shivering.
"You don't want to talk?" she asks.
What can I say? I owe it to Olive not to make this any harder. So I won't use the computer. I won't tell her what I've been hoping-to maybe carry one thing back. Maybe if I concentrate hard enough, a part of Olive will imprint on a part of me, and I will remember how it felt. How it felt to know a girl once.
"Okay," she says, shutting her laptop with a sigh. "At least eat your crunchies."
So I eat my crunchies. They're trout-flavored and tangy on my tongue. I chew slowly, savoring the morsels. This is one of my last meals as a cat.
I haven't always lived in this body. Leonard wasn't always my name.
Olive pats my head as I lick the bowl clean. "I know you didn't want to be a cat," she says, so softly that my ears prick to hear her, "but you are a very, very good cat."
I want the computer now. My paws are itching to type: You are a very, very good human. Because she is. And she will be, long after I'm gone.
If you allow yourself, you might like our story. It's about cheese sandwiches and an aquarium and a family. It has laughter and sadness and me, learning what it means to be human.
On my journey to Earth, I was supposed to become human.
That is where I'll begin.
