Ник Сайнт - Purrfect Sidekick. Purrfect Deseit. Purrfect Ruse [calibre 5.14.0]

Chapter 11

We’d arrived at cat choir, and I have to admit I wasn’t feeling entirely sanguine about the plan Odelia had outlined. But she was right: what could possibly go wrong? Nothing!

Cat choir was where all the cats that had been taken had set out from, and from there they’d roamed around the downtown area, at which point they’d been taken, so this was the exact route and timetable we’d adhere to, hoping we’d get taken, too. Yikes!

“I just wish Clarice was here,” said Dooley. “She wouldn’t be scared like we are.”

“I’m not scared,” said Brutus, always the butch cat.

“You look scared.”

“Well, that’s just your imagination, Dooley,” said our friend. “Cause I’m not afraid of anything. In fact if you just stick close to me nothing will happen to you—I promise.”

“If you’re not afraid, Brutus,” said Dooley earnestly, “then why is your tail quivering?”

“My tail is quivering because I’m happy,” said Brutus, promptly tucking in his tail.

“Oh, just admit it, Brutus,” said Harriet, “you’re just as nervous as the rest of us.”

“I am not!” said Brutus, managing to sound indignant.

Cat choir was happening as it always does: in a boisterous way, with cats shooting the breeze, greeting each other as if they hadn’t seen each other in ages, even though we’d all met the night before, and some even that afternoon, like Kingman and us.

“What is that thing around your neck, Max?” asked that same Kingman now as he studied me intently.

“It’s a GPS tracker,” I said, and explained Odelia’s plan in great detail.

“A GPS tracker, huh?” he said, nodding. “Always wanted to get one of those myself, actually.”

“You did?”

“You never told us,” Harriet pointed out.

“Well, it’s just one of those cool hip things, isn’t it? In fact in this day and age of modern technology I think every cat should have a tracker. That way when something happens their owner can easily track them down. Isn’t that right, Shanille?”

Cat choir’s director had joined us, and was staring at Harriet’s collar. “Yeah,” she said after a moment’s pause. “Yeah, you’re absolutely right, Kingman.”

Harriet, who’d noticed that Shanille was eyeing her with a touch of envy, now thrust out her chest and lifted her chin, to make that tracker collar stand out even more. “Nice, isn’t it, Shanille? Top-of-the-line GPS tracker. It’s the latest fashion. With this cool little gizmo Odelia can find us anywhere, down to the inch. Isn’t that so, my precious angel?”

“Yeah, she can even hear what we say, and see what’s going on around us,” said Brutus.

“I don’t think she can,” I said, but Brutus quickly shut me up with a glance.

“Latest high-tech gadget,” said Harriet, shoving her collar in Shanille’s face. “All the It cats are wearing it these days. So where’s your tracker, Shanille?”

“I… don’t have one,” said Shanille, then added, “and I don’t need one. Father Reilly knows exactly where I am at all times. He doesn’t need a tracker to keep track of me.”

“Yeah, but what if you’re taken, like those other cats?” said Kingman. “A tracker would come in darn handy. In fact I think I’ll convince Wilbur to get me one of those.”

“And how are you going to do that?” Shanille sneered. “You’ll talk to him, will you?”

“I’ll ask Max to ask Odelia to tell Wilbur to get me one,” Kingman explained. “You’ll do me that little favor, won’t you, Max?”

“Oh, sure,” I said, suddenly feeling pretty cool with my brand-new tracker. We were all basking in the attention of a dozen cats now, all gaping at the nice gadgets around our necks, and I could tell they all wanted one. The story of those catnappings had spread through our community like wildfire, and the only thing standing between us and being left behind in the middle of the woods by a crazy catnapper, with not a bowl of kibble in sight, was this tracker, so it just stood to reason everybody now suddenly wanted one.

Cat choir proceeded as planned: we all sang our hearts out, and Harriet sang her solo, and when all was said and done, and we’d been subjected to our fair share of shoes being thrown in our direction by irate neighbors who had the misfortune of having bought a house that faced the park, we decided to follow the route the missing cats had taken, and place ourselves knowingly in harm’s way. Pretty counterintuitive, I know!

“Did you see the look on Shanille’s face?” said Harriet with a wide grin. “She couldn’t stop looking at my nice new tracker.”

“Oh, so now all of a sudden this doomsday device is a nice new tracker, is it?” I grumbled. Even though I, too, had enjoyed the sudden attention, I wasn’t used to a collar.

“You know what your problem is, Max?” said Harriet.

“No, but I’m sure you’re about to tell me.”

“You’re stuck in the past.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Stuck in the past! You have to move with the times, Max, if you don’t want to be left behind. These trackers are what it’s all about. In fact pretty soon I’m sure they’ll implant a chip in our necks that will act as a tracker and maybe even as a mini-computer!”

Dooley shivered. “A chip in our necks!”

“Some pets already have chips implanted in their necks,” I said, “but they’re not computers at all. They’re simply RFID devices. And all they tell you is the name of the pet, and the owner’s data, like their address and stuff. That way a lost pet can easily be traced to their owner, and returned to same.”

“Well, in the future I’m sure these chips will be able to do a lot more,” said Harriet. “They’ll be implanted in our brains, and that way we can even surf the internet, or google stuff. Wouldn’t that be cool?”

Now it was my turn to shiver. “I don’t want a chip in my brain, thank you very much,” I said. “I like my brain just the way it is!”

“I told you. You’re an old fogey, Max,” said Harriet with a slight grin. She glanced around with a frown. “Now where is that catnapper? I’ve got better things to do than to wander around here all night, you know.”

And as if her words had summoned the catnapper, suddenly a car pulled over, a door was opened, and before we knew what was happening, we were all grabbed by the scruff of our necks and stuffed into a large canvas bag!

Chapter 12

Being inside a canvas bag is not a fun experience. It’s cramped, it’s dark, and the fabric tickles your nostrils. So all in all I can tell you with conviction that I’m happy to be a cat and not a potato, for potatoes probably spend quite a large portion of their existence inside just such a bag—before being chopped up, boiled and eaten, a fate which I fervently hoped we’d escape!

“I don’t like this, Max,” said Dooley, cooped up inside that bag along with the rest of us.

“I don’t like it either, Dooley,” I admitted.

“When is Odelia going to save us?” asked Harriet, who didn’t sound entirely happy either.

“I don’t know,” I said, “but soon now. Very soon.”

“I hope she gets a move on,” said Brutus, whose voice was tooting in my ear, a clear sign he was right next to me. “Cause I’m starting to feel a little claustrophobic in here.”

“I’m sure she’s on the verge of pulling this guy over and saving us,” I said, more in an attempt to comfort myself than my fellow cats.

But the car was still hurtling on at a high rate of speed, and of our saviors there still was no sign. Finally the engine was cut and we rolled to a standstill. Moments later the bag was grabbed from wherever it had been dumped, and soon after we were released into the wild, the bag unceremoniously being relieved of its contents. And even as we got accustomed to our new surroundings, a big cloud of exhaust fumes drifted over us, and the car took off again, leaving us in what looked like the exact same place we’d been before, smack dab in the middle of the woods.