“Well? I want details. What happened in the basement?” The white cat sat up expectantly and plumped the couch pillows. “Last I heard there were slavering jaws?”
Wallace nodded.“YES! SLAVERING. It was TERRIBLE.”
The white cat cocked her head.“Really!”
Oscar flew up into his cage and landed heavily on his perch. It had been a long night.“So to speak.”
“We’ve got a raccoon situation,” Walt said, sitting down in front of the couch. “That’s what’s upsetting Biscuit.”
“And the rats,” Wallace added.
“Ooooh, raccoons. That’s bad. They’ll take over in a heartbeat, right?” The white cat’s eyes widened. “I’m guessing you weren’t able to talk sense into them.”
“Not exactly,” Oscar admitted.
“But what about you, Butterbean? Aren’t you a therapist now? Surely they listened to you, right?” The white cat seemed to be enjoying herself a little too much.
Butterbean flopped down with a huff.“They WOULD’VE, I’m sure of it. But no one would even let me talk to them!”
“Why not? It’s just a couple of raccoons, right?” The white cat shot Walt a look.
“I know, right?” Butterbean whined.
“Cut it out, cat,” Walt said.
“But that’s just it! It’s not just a couple of raccoons—it’s a gang!” Wallace protested. “Slavering jaws, remember? It was a bunch of them. A whole troupe!”
The white cat sat up, looking at Wallace with real curiosity on her face.“Wait, are they a gang or a troupe? Because that’s not the same thing.”
“Um.” Wallace looked at Marco and Polo, who shrugged. “I don’t know. Troupe?”
“So they’re raccoon performers? A troupe implies singing and dancing.” The white cat smoothed her whiskers. “I may need to investigate this. Performing raccoons are an entirely different matter.”
“I didn’t hear them singing,” Wallace said, wringing the hem of his shirt. “But maybe?”
“They’re probably a gang,” Marco said.
“They were laughing a lot,” Polo said thoughtfully.
“Don’t remind me,” Oscar said grouchily. “Now if you don’t mind, cat, it’s been a long night, and I—”
But he never finished the sentence. Because at that moment they realized they weren’t alone.
Madison was standing in the hallway staring at them with her mouth hanging open. Her hair was sticking up on one side, and she didn’t look entirely awake.
“What is the—huh?” She blinked and stared at the white cat. “What.”
“Oh shoot,” the white cat muttered under her breath.
“I TOLD YOU!” Marco said, throwing his arms into the air. “Didn’t we SAY? I KNEW YOU’D GET CAUGHT.”
“Shh, Marco. Be cool. No sudden moves,” Polo said, watching Madison blink again. Madison hadn’t really reacted—she was still just staring at the white cat, swaying slightly in place. A little drool had formed at the corner of her mouth.
The animals stared back at Madison. No one moved a muscle.
“Huh. That looks like… huh,” Madison said, yawning and then taking a few steps toward the kitchen, where she stopped short again.
“Oh no,” Oscar said under his breath. He shook his head. No matter how sleepy Madison was, there was no way she was going to be able to miss the octopus dangling between the countertop and the refrigerator. Octopuses in the kitchen were always attention grabbers.
She didn’t.
“Octopus,” Madison said.
Chad didn’t even bother freezing in place. He burped, gave her a jaunty salute with one of his free tentacles, and went back to his snacks.
Madison gave a clumsy return salute.“Right. Right,” she muttered as she turned around and headed back toward her room. “Octopus. Sure.”
She padded down the hallway and disappeared back into her room. The animals sat in silence, afraid to move until they were sure she was gone.
“So, do you think she spotted me?” Chad finally said as Madison’s door clicked shut. He chucked the herring jar into the trash.
“Gosh, Chad, I don’t know.” Walt rolled her eyes. “What do you think?”
“I’ll tell you what I think,” the white cat said, jumping off the couch. “I think that was a close call. You guys almost got us caught.”
“YOU GUYS?” Marco said, outraged. “YOU’RE BLAMING US?”
Walt opened her mouth to protest but decided against it. Some things just weren’t worth it.
“Come on, Chad. Clock’s a-ticking,” the white cat said. “I want to see these so-called performers.”
Chad shrugged an elaborate dangling shrug and then dropped down to the floor.“Payment up front.”
Oscar frowned.“I really don’t think I’d say they were performers. I think Wallace misspoke.”
“Well, we’ll see. Here.” The white cat rooted around behind the couch for a minute and then dragged out a package of cat treats. “How’s this for payment? They’re brand-new—not even on the market yet. Caviar flavored, super fancy.” She tossed the packet in Chad’s direction. (It didn’t even make it halfway to him. The white cat was never known for her sports prowess.) Chad shot her a cold look before slithering toward it and inspecting the package.
The white cat smirked at Walt.“It’s part of my gig with Beautiful Buffet Cat Food. I’m starring in the classic commercials, of course, but they also want me promoting this new line. It’s a pretty big deal.”
“Really,” Walt said.
“It’s caviar flavored. Super fancy,” the white cat said again.
“So you said.” Walt said.
“UREREERRRKKKKK.” A loud hacking noise came from the other side of the room.
Chad had turned an interesting shade of green. A cat treat shot out of his mouth and landed wetly on the floor in front of them. He gagged a few more times and then threw the treat package against the wall.“Not on your life.”
The white cat sagged.“Yeah, they’re pretty terrible. Well, it was worth a try.” She leaned conspiratorially toward Walt. “Honestly, I don’t know how I’m going to choke them down. But I guess that’s why they pay me the big bucks. Acting.”
Walt stalked over to the cat treat package and sniffed it. Then she curled her lip and kicked it under the couch.“Good luck with that.”
The white cat shrugged and sashayed toward the vent.“Watch and learn. I know how to talk to performers. I’ll get this raccoon situation fixed and be back before you know it.”
She disappeared into the vents, with Chad slithering along behind her.
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Oscar said under his breath.
The white cat burst out of the vent in the Strathmore basement and immediately struck a dramatic pose. That was for the benefit of the rats, who she had been informed would be milling around the area, in desperate need of entertainment. The white cat was never one to disappoint a waiting audience. But her information was apparently wrong. There were no rats to be seen.
“Humph,” the white cat grumbled, smoothing her whiskers and looking around casually in case she’d overlooked someone. But no. The basement was empty. She was glad she hadn’t gone with her original entrance idea. (High stepping and jazz hands.)
Faint noises were coming from the other side of the large metal door. The white cat nodded at it.“Storage room, I presume?”
Chad nodded.“Yup.”
The white cat fluffed up her fur and did some warm-up stretches. Then she turned to Chad.
“Listen, legs. When I give you the cue, open the door as wide as possible. I want to make a spectacular entrance. Really dazzle them.” Once those raccoons got a glimpse of a real celebrity, they’d be putty in her hands. And if they really were a troupe, it was always good to have backup dancers on call. As long as they knew she was the star. “Got it?”
“Sure, sure,” Chad grumbled. “Entrance blah blah. Dazzle dazzle.” He climbed up onto the exit sign and dangled one tentacle in front of the keypad. “But you owe me decent food. None of those treats of yours.”