Long ago in a village in Quebec, an old woman named Tante Odette lived with her cat, Shooshoo. Tante Odette was a careful, quiet woman. She never wasted anything. A pot of soup always boiled on her stove, and every day Tante Odette added more water and a few cabbage leaves. In this way she never had to throw the soup away.
On Sundays she baked a loaf of bread, and if by Thursday the bread was stale, she softened it by dipping it into the soup. Shooshoo was okay to live on cabbage soup and crumbs. Every evening after supper, Tante Odette sat down at her loom to weave. Shooshoo lay upon the striped rug at her feet and purred contentedly.
Tante Odette smiled wistfully at Shooshoo. "What a perfect companion you are, Shooshoo, though sometimes I wish you could talk." One evening Tante Odette sat at her loom and Shooshoo lay on his rug. Suddenly they heard a thumping at the door. When Tante Odette opened it, she saw a strange old man wearing a bright red sash around his waist, a red-checkered shirt, and a cap with a black feather tucked in the brim.
"Madame," said the man, bowing slightly, "I am Pierre LeBlanc, and I have come to offer my services to you as a workman. I am too old to trap furs or to work in lumber camps, and I am looking for a job in a nice cozy house like your own." Tante Odette pulled her shawl close. "I don't need any help," she said. "I'm quite able to do all my work by myself. And besides, I have my cat."
She began to close the door in Pierre's face, but he reached out and held it open and looked at Shooshoo. "Ahh, yes," he said, "he looks like a very wise cat. Why don't you ask him if you should take me in? All I ask for my services is shelter."
"Ha!" Tante Odette laughed. "Cats can't talk." But just then, to her surprise, Shooshoo began to speak.
"I can indeed," Shooshoo said. "I simply haven't come upon a serious enough matter until now. This Pierre LaBlanc looks to me like a good, hard worker and an honest man. I think you should take him in."
