He heaved a deep sigh and felt sorrier for himself than he’d felt in a long time.
“What are you doing here?” asked a voice that cut like a knife.
He recognized that singular voice. And when a familiar head popped out of the dumpster moments later, he actually felt happy.“Hey, Clarice,” he said. “How are you?”
“Oh, it’s you,” said Clarice, and disappeared into the dumpster again, only to pop out once more seconds later. “You don’t look so hot, Brutus. Are you sick and dying?”
“Well, I did almost die this afternoon,” he admitted. “But Chase saved me. And then I was chased out of my own home by my own girlfriend, so I have seen better days.”
Clarice hesitated, then finally said,“You look hungry. I’ll share my food with you.”
“Gee, thanks,” he said, perking up. After that visit to Vena, he’d been looking forward to having a nice bite to eat. Harriet had put a stop to that. “What are you having?”
Clarice jumped out of the dumpster and gracefully landed on all fours. She was a feral cat, and looked as mangy and flea-ridden as any cat that lived on the street. She was also tough as nails, though, and she was Brutus’s friend. “It’s over there,” she said, looking left and right as she led the way. “Best and most juicy piece of meat I’ve found in ages.”
“Yummy,” said Brutus, his stomach already grumbling. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was before Clarice’s kind and generous offer.
“I was just looking through that dumpster for some seasoning,” she explained. “Even free cats like me like a bit of seasoning to spice up their meals, you understand.”
“Oh, I do understand,” he said. “It’s all in the seasoning.”
With a flourish, she removed a piece of newspaper.“Ta-dah.”
Before them lay a sad-looking rat, still intact, head, tail and all. Brutus retched.
Clarice licked her lips.“Seeing as you’re going to need this more than me right now, I’m going to let you have the first bite. I don’t do this for just anyone, so choose carefully.” She then leaned in and whispered, “Go for the hindquarters. They’re particularly succulent.” Brutus retched again, audibly this time, and Clarice studied him with a slight grin. “I should have known. You city slickers don’t know a good thing when you see it.”
“I’m much obliged, Clarice,” said Brutus, his stomach having gone from anticipatory rumbling to violent retching, “but I’m going to have to pass. I’m not as hungry as I thought I was.” He backtracked towards the mouth of the alley.
“City slickers,” Clarice grumbled, shaking her head. She then dug in, or at least Brutus thought she did. He couldn’t watch, turning away at the last moment. The munching and tearing sounds were bad enough.
He practically ran from the alley and into the road. And he would have been crushed by an oncoming vehicle if a bystander hadn’t had the presence of mind to snap him up at the last second and save him from being squashed like a bug.
The car’s driver didn’t even slow down, clearly heedless of the tragedy he or she had almost caused. Brutus caught a glimpse of a yellow parka as the car took the next turn, and then it was gone.
“You should watch where you go, buddy,” said the Good Samaritan who’d saved his life. Then: “Brutus? Is that you?”
Only now did Brutus realize that it was none other than Odelia’s dad Tex.
“What are you doing out here?” Tex asked, tucking Brutus into the crook of his arm, gently stroking his fur.
“I was lost but now I’m found,” said Brutus, who was starting to think that the men in Odelia’s family had a curious habit of saving his life today.
“I better take you home with me,” said Tex. “Did you get that guy’s license plate? I could have sworn he was aiming for you, buddy. Probably one of those maniacs. Some people just hate cats. Don’t know why but they just do.”
And while Tex prattled on, Brutus suddenly remembered what the ducks had said: the man in the yellow parka. The man who killed Dany Cooper!
And now had almost killed him…
Chapter 14
I was lying on my favorite spot on the couch while Odelia was getting ready upstairs. She was going out again, presumably to do a bit of sleuthing, in spite of her uncle’s instructions that she shouldn’t. Dooley was on the floor, licking his tail, and Harriet, who’d opted to spend the night at Odelia’s and not next door, was moping on the windowsill, catching those last few rays of the day before the sun called it a night and went to bed.
We had yet to mention‘the incident’ and though I was keen to do so, I’d refrained from broaching the subject until Harriet was good and ready. I’m not much of a psychologist but even I know that women, and definitely female felines, can’t stay quiet for long, especially when it concerns such a life-altering drama as the breakup of a relationship.
Harriet had already been darting anxious glances in my and Dooley’s direction but I’d ignored them all, pretending to doze off. The television was on, switched to Nickelodeon, where an episode ofPAW Patrol, of all things, was playing. Normally I hatePAW Patrol. I mean, who wants to watch a kids show about talking dogs? But today I didn’t mind one bit. Even though I’m not fond of dogs, I know for a fact that these dogs are all fictitious. Why else would they be so nice? Real dogs are never nice. They’re all smelly, nasty and possessed by a distinct anti-cat bias. In other words, not my kind of pets.
Dooley, taking a break from licking his tail, now looked up at me.“Max?”
“Mh?” I said, still pretending to be dozing. I didn’t have to work hard at it. I was, in fact, pretty beat, after the emotions of the day, and could have used a long nap.
“Why is it that dogs are always depicted as assisting the police in their investigations but cats never are? While it’s obvious that we’re better equipped to be police pets than dogs?”
“Beats me, buddy. I guess the dog lobby holds more sway in Hollywood than the cat lobby.”
This seemed to surprise Dooley, judging from the way his eyes went wide.“The dog lobby,” he said reverently.
“Yeah, dogs have powerful representation in Hollywood. Has to be. Why else do they get so many shows and movies made? While cats get few opportunities to shine, if any.”
“You know what, Max? I think you’re right.”
“I know I’m right.”
“Look at all those dog shows.Lassie, Benji, PAW Patrol. And hardly any shows about cats being man’s best friend. Even Richard Gere had a dog movie.Hitachi.”
“I think it wasHachi.”
“Obviously dogs have infiltrated Hollywood, and pushed cats out of the picture.”
“Even Disney is guilty in that department,” I said, darting a quick glance at Harriet. She was still moping, but I could tell she was dying to have a little chat about the topic that was near to her heart—and it wasn’t the underrepresentation of cats in the entertainment industry. “Name me a cat movie Disney made that depicts cats in a favorable light. I doubt you’ll find one.”
“That Darn Cat?” Dooley suggested. “The Aristocats?”
“Made in the stone ages,” I said. “Any more recent examples?”
Dooley thought hard, but couldn’t come up with a single one. “I’m sorry, Max. I don’t… Oh!Cats& Dogs. There were cats in that one, weren’t there?”
“Not Disney. And the cats were the villains,” I said. “Which is exactly what the dog lobby wants. No, face it, Dooley. Cats should probably create a lobby, like the dogs have, and march on Hollywood, demanding equal representation.”
“We should have our own franchise,” Dooley agreed. “LikeBeethoven, but with cats.”
“Or our own shows, likeLassie, but with cats.”
“Or even books. LikeOld Yeller, but with cats.”