MOVING

A cat that treasures its independence (``No one knows what I do./No one knows where I go'') and its freedom to choose when to join its humans (``they have me to tickle,/I have their laps'') suffers the indignities of a move. In a carefully crafted text whose repetitive phrases perfectly evoke the cat's behavior and priorities, Rosen describes its disorientation as the old house is emptied (``Still they had me to tickle,/but I had no laps''), outrage at being caged for the journey, and bolting once freed at the new place (there's a touch of anthropomorphism here—``Now they will worry,'' the cat speculates. ``I vanished myself./I warmed a new nowhere and I waited''). In time, of course, food is an irresistible lure, and things get back to normal. Williams's soft, painterly double spreads, in muted earthtones warmed with reds and greens, capture the family's feelings and the cat's expressive movements with equal facility. A familiar drama, developed with unusual sensitivity and style. (Picture book. 3-8)