Guardian Cats and the Lost Books of Alexandria

Chapter 51: Beat ‘em with fries

Polo ran randomly through yards and across parking lots, dodging cars and dogs and a baby carriage. He was not tired of running, especially since he’d been tied up so long, but a thought stopped him. It wasn’t something that happened very often, but he thought about how Tweezer had saved his life and how he and the others were fighting the raccoons. The cats were in trouble and here he was, running away. What was he doing here under a tree, when they needed his help?

He didn’t think any further, like what chance a silly ferret would have in fending off a dozen gangster raccoons. He chewed on what was left of the leash, thinking more than he’d ever thought in his life, when he heard footsteps. When they got close enough, Polo saw it was a pack of mangy cats.

“Hey!” one called out.

Polo loped over to meet them.

“Maybe you could give us directions?”

“Depends on where you want to go,” said Polo.

“The library.”

“I just came from the library, and I don’t think you want to go there now.”

“Why not?” asked one of the cats.

“The library’s on fire and there’s a pack of raccoons in a brawl with the cats.”

“That’s the place.”

“Really?”

“We’re friends of Tweezers. He asked for backup and we’re it.”

“Tweezer could use some help, but I have to tell you, those raccoons are brutal, and I don’t know that you could do much good.”

“Well, we’re here now. We have to do something.”

Polo decided to tell them what he’d been pondering. “I’ve been thinking of trying a diversionary tactic,” he said. It was a term he’d learned from Marco, and he’d been waiting for a chance to use it.

“Say what?”

“You know, a way to take their attention away from the cats, with something they want more than fighting.”

“Well, you seem to know so much. What do you think would get their attention?”

“Simple,” said Polo. “Raccoons are pigs. They love to eat more than anything. We’ll tempt them with food.”

“Brilliant idea. But how do you propose we get food to them? We’re cats. It’s not like we can steal food and lug it over there.”

Polo smiled. “That’s why you need me.”

The one cat who seemed to be the group’s leader brought the rest of them into a huddle. Then he went back to Polo. “Okay. Here’s the deal. We weren’t gonna come, ‘cause we like our lives and don’t want anything to mess with that. Understand? But some of us got to thinking about what Tweezer and Caffeina said, and it made sense. We’d want help if we were in trouble. So here we are, but we don’t have much of a plan. So, we took a vote. We’ll go with your plan.”

Polo suddenly found himself in charge of a troupe of cats. He puffed up with pride. “First thing we need to do is scope out some food. Anything will do. They are not picky eaters.” He almost added, ‘not like cats,’ but caught himself in time.

Boris sniffed the air. “I smell French fries.”

“Take us to the fries, then,” commanded Polo, and they followed Boris to a dumpster.

Polo scaled the large bin in a flash. The cats waited below.

“Here, catch!” He tossed bags of fries over the side until he was satisfied they all had one. He secured one in his mouth and hopped down.

“Follow me.” The cats each had a bag clenched in their teeth and they trotted down the street, surely a strange sight if anyone had been looking out their window.

Once they made it to the library, only Polo was brave enough to get close to the raccoons and let them get a whiff. But it was enough. The first raccoon picked up the scent and lost interest in fighting. The stray cats dropped their bags and beat a hasty retreat.

The raccoons knocked each other over to get the fries, leaving the Dead Cats stunned but grateful.