We listened. “Let me out!” a Labrador was yelling. “This is a mistake! I don’t belong here! I have a family! Let me out!”
“All I did was root around in the trashcan,” a Poodle was lamenting. “I like trashcans. What’s wrong with that? There’s always something new to be found in a trashcan. So when will this punishment be over? And what are all these other dogs doing in here? Are they all punished, too? What is this place? A prison for dogs?”
“More like a concentration camp for dogs, buddy,” said a Beagle sadly.
“Where are the cats?” asked Dooley. “Maybe they’re treated better?”
“You wish,” scoffed Brutus. He tracked a path to the right side of the building, and sank down in front of another grimy window, affording a glimpse inside.
This was obviously the feline part of the pound, with dozens of cats locked up in cages, looking equally demoralized and unhappy.
“Oh, this is just terrible,” said Harriet. “Poor cats!”
“Milo tried to convince me this was paradise,” said Brutus. “Now I see he was just lying, as usual.” He directed an apologetic look in my direction. “I’m sorry, Max.”
“Sorry for what?”
“He said you were a dictator. That I was your minion, having to kowtow to you. I should have known he was full of crap. When did I ever kowtow to you? We butted heads so many times we both have the bruises to prove it.” He placed a paw on my shoulder. “I’m sorry for believing those lies about you, buddy. I feel like such an idiot.”
“Well, if the shoe fits…”
He laughed. “I deserved that.”
Dooley was still looking through the glass. “You guys. Do you think this is where Milo lived for the first part of his life?”
“Yeah, I think he wasn’t lying about that part,” said Brutus. “His human probably picked him up here.”
“Don’t you think… this is why he turned into the cat he is now?” asked Dooley. He looked up. “This could all be some kind of… survival mechanism.”
We were all so surprised that Dooley would even be aware of such a big word that we simply stared at him.
He went on, “I mean, this place is like prison for cats and dogs, right? So maybe this is why he lies so much—to protect himself from the harsh realities of life? And why he sets cats up against each other. So they wouldn’t pick on him?”
“Direct their attention away from himself. Divide and conquer,” I said, nodding.
“Dooley, you’re a lot smarter than you look,” said Brutus.
“Hey, thanks, Brutus,” said Dooley, suddenly chipper.
“It’s no excuse for Milo’s behavior, though,” said Harriet sternly.
“No, it’s not, but it definitely explains a lot,” I said. I thought I understood our new housemate a little better now. And even though I didn’t approve of what he did, I was beginning to see things from his point of view. Entering a potentially hostile environment, with four other cats to contend with and one human to dole out punishment and reward, he must have automatically reverted to his old ways of sowing discord and making fantastical statements.
Poor cat. Suddenly I felt Milo was to be pitied more than to be censored.
And I would have had a lot more to say on the subject if a stray cat hadn’t suddenly been streaking past us, looking extremely excited about something.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“Big to-do in town!” he yelled. “Kit Katt’s been spotted! Kit Katt and Koh!”
Chapter 46
We didn’t linger at the pound. Instead, we hauled ass in the direction the other cat was going and soon we were going well and going steadily, as more and more cats joined the stampede.
“Looks like every cat in Hampton Cove will be there!” cried Dooley excitedly.
“Who doesn’t want to meet Kit Katt and Koh?” I said, equally excited about the prospect of meeting our heroes in the flesh.
“What are they doing in Hampton Cove?” asked Harriet.
“Probably filming new episodes for their show,” said Brutus.
“Maybe they’ll let us guest star!” Dooley said.
“To guest star on a show you have to be exactly that, Dooley,” I said. “A star.”
“We could be extras,” said Harriet, the prospect clearly enticing.
By now it looked like a minor migration was taking place, and I saw and nodded a greeting at many a familiar face. The closer to the town center we got, the bigger the crowd. Almost like going to a rock concert, if rock concerts weren’t so terribly loud and rock music so perfectly horrible to listen to. Nope. Cats do not like rock music. Let me be clear on that.
The action seemed to be taking place near the old industrial zone, on the other side of town. A few deserted factories awaited demolition, to be replaced with a commercial park. The factory where all activity was centered was the old Beluga Watchcase Factory.
The brown-brick five-story structure was derelict, with windows shattered and ivy covering a big part of the building. Cats seemed to have converged on a window on the ground floor, and sat staring inside, much the same way we’d been trying to get a peek at the pound innards just before.
“Why would Kit Katt and Koh be filming their show in such a horrible place?” asked Harriet, regarding the decaying factory building disdainfully. “It will show our lovely little town in a very unfavorable light.”
Like any town, Hampton Cove has its eyesores, and these remnants of the past are never featured on the brochures doled out by the local tourist board. Harriet was right. Why would the production team of our favorite show pick this horrible spot to film the new season’s episodes?
“Maybe Kit Katt is trapped here by a gang of crooks,” Dooley suggested. “And it’s Koh to the rescue as usual.”
That was a great explanation, and I perked up. But when we approached the heart of the hubbub, we encountered nothing but irate cats, all screaming at the top of their lungs about something.
“It’s an outrage!” one Exotic Shorthair was yelling. “An absolute outrage!”
“I knew she was too good to be true!” a Maine Coon screamed. “I said so from the start!”
What it was they were so upset about was difficult to determine, as they were all screaming and venting their anger but hard to pin down to the particulars of their outrage.
We moved to the front of the milling masses and finally made it all the way to the source of the uproar. A window offered a look at what had once been the factory floor where diligent workers had manufactured watchcases by the thousands, to be used in the famous and elegant Beluga watches. Now all that remained was a cement floor and a bunch of furniture.
“Looks like someone lives here,” said Harriet over the din of the other cats.
She was right. There was a bed, visibly slept in, a table with pizza boxes and Chinese food cartons scattered on top of them, a couple of chairs, and a couch where two men were watching television, unconcerned about being watched by Hampton Cove’s cat population.
On TV, a CNN breaking news story was unfolding, with footage of Virginia Salt being shown. The actress who was now better known as her alter ego Kit Katt, was being hounded by a camera crew as she made valiant attempts to walk from her car to her house.
“What’s going on?” I asked anyone who would listen.
Next to me, suddenly Shanille materialized. “Oh, hey, Max. Haven’t you heard? Kit Katt hates cats! Can you believe it? She’s been secretly filmed kicking a cat!”
“What?!” cried Harriet. “That’s not possible. She’s Kit Katt! She loves cats!”
“That’s only for the show,” said Shanille, eyeing Harriet with some trepidation. She clearly hadn’t forgotten the cat fight she and the feisty Persian had gotten into before. “In real life the actress who plays Kit Katt likes to kick cats for fun!”
And as we watched, a rerun of the footage was shown. It was clearly shot with a smartphone, as the footage was shaky and the lighting was lousy. Filmed at night, it showed Victoria Salt stumbling out of her house, a garbage bag in hand. She was unsteady on her feet, and had probably been hitting the bottle a little too enthusiastically. Three cats were enjoying a leisurely evening atop the trash container when Victoria came upon them.