Purrfect Rivalry

Chapter 6

We’d been scoping out the back alleys of Hampton Cove for what felt like hours—looking for Clarice in what I knew to be her usual haunts and hangouts. For some reason Clarice likes dumpsters. No idea why. I find them foul places where only death and decay lurk. Not to mention the odor they spread is positively foul. But to each their own, I guess, and since Clarice likes dumpsters, that’s where we had to be if we wanted to find her.

“I’m tired, Max,” said Dooley after we’d tapped yet another dumpster and called out Clarice’s name in the faint hope of getting a response. “Maybe we can do this some other time?”

“We can’t do this some other time,” I told him. “Have you forgotten what’s at stake?”

He gave me a blank look, so I decided to remind him.

“If we don’t dislodge Diego from my home he’s going to extend me the same courtesy.”

He stared at me, clearly not comprehending.

“If we don’t kick him out, he’s going to kick me out!”

“Oh—right. Of course. Only, he won’t do that, will he? He may be bad, but he’s not bad to the bone.”

“He is, Dooley,” I assured my friend. “That cat is bad to the bone.”

“Can you guys shut up already and give me a paw?” Brutus called out from the back of the alley. He’d been going from dumpster to dumpster, giving each one a hard rattle, calling out Clarice’s name all the while.

“I don’t think we’ll find Clarice, Max,” Dooley said, now really deciding to embrace his inner voice of gloom. “Remember she likes to hang out in the woods near the Writer’s Lodge? I’m sure she’s out there right now, being fed by some writer with writer’s block.”

Dooley was right. The first time we ever met Clarice was out in the woods, near Hetta Fried’s place. Hetta rents out a small cabin to writers and other creative desperados, eager to escape their busy lives and hone their craft surrounded by all of nature and woodland creatures like Clarice. And since these creative geniuses usually are the top of the cream and have money to burn, they treat their temporary feline companions very well indeed.

“Maybe you’re right,” I said. “Maybe we should expand our search to the lodge.”

“Of course I’m right. I’ll bet she’s curled up on the lap of Stephen King or Dan Brown or JK Rowling, being fed Cat Snax. She might even feature in one of their next books.”

“Wouldn’t that be great?” I asked, licking my paw and making a face when I realized I’d stepped into a piece of rotten fish.

“Wouldn’t what be great, Max?”

“To be the cat of a famous writer, and feature in their books?”

“And when they turn that book into a movie, to be asked to star as yourself in the Hollywood version,” Dooley said excitedly.

“I think I’d want to be in a Dan Brown book,” I said. “To be Professor Langdon’s feline sidekick. And then I could be in the movie with Tom Hanks.”

“I’d want to be in the sequel to the Hunger Games. Fight the forces of evil side by side with Jennifer Lawrence,” said Dooley, a dreamy look coming over his face.

“Or to be in a new Harry Potter movie!” I cried. “To be a shapeshifting cat, capable of amazing feats of witchcraft. And a chance to hang out with Emma Watson, of course.”

We both sat gazing into the middle distance for a moment, the roseate glow of our Hollywood careers lending me a momentary respite from the stark reality of my life.

“You know? Maybe this isn’t such a bad idea,” Dooley suddenly said. “I mean, since Odelia is going to kick you out and all, you’re going to want to find a new home anyway, Max. You could do worse than Tom Hanks or Emma Watson.”

I gave him my best scowl. “I’m not going to be kicked out, Dooley. Not if I can help it.”

“No, but I mean, Tom or Emma might adopt you after the shoot is over. But you’re going to have to work hard to ingratiate yourself. Really put in the time to win them over.”

I turned my back on him. This was not what I wanted to hear.

“You’ll have to show them Lovable Max, Max. Not Grumpy Max!” he called out.

“Oh, go away, Dooley,” I said, thumping my paw against a dumpster.

“That is not the way to make friends and influence people, Max.”

I snarled something under my breath. Dooley was right, though. If we didn’t find Clarice soon, I was doomed. Doomed to roam these back alleys and fend for myself and snack on rotten fish until I blew out my final breath. Not an agreeable prospect.

“Give us a smile, Max!” Dooley was shouting. “Show us those snappers!”

In response, I thumped the next dumpster extra hard, hoping against hope that Clarice would suddenly materialize, just like she had those previous times, and help us out.

“I don’t think she’s here, buddy,” said Brutus when I’d reached the end of the alley.

“She’s probably hanging out at the Writer’s Lodge,” I told him, and explained about Clarice’s habit to keep aspiring and accomplished artists alike company out at the Lodge.

“That’s a pretty long hike, Max,” he said. “I mean—I don’t mind going out there, but it’s going to take us the better part of the day.”

I was touched by this sudden display of selflessness on the part of my former nemesis. “You would do that for me, Brutus? Go all the way out to the woods to find Clarice?”

He frowned. “I’m not doing this for you, Max. I’m doing this for me. Or have you forgotten that Diego is moving in on my girl? If I don’t get that cat out of the picture, Harriet will never take me back. For some reason that cat’s got the fatal attraction thing nailed.”

“I think the fatal attraction thing involves a bunny,” said Dooley, who’d joined us.

I gave Brutus a cold stare. “And here I thought you were my friend,” I said.

“I am your friend,” said Brutus. “I mean, I hated your guts before. Always thought you were too hoity-toity for my taste. But now that I’ve come to know you I’ve got to admit you’re a great cat to hang out with. But you’re not the only one with Diego issues, Max.”

“I don’t have Diego issues,” said Dooley. “But I want him gone anyway. Cause I don’t want Max to be kicked out of Odelia’s house.” He placed a paw on my shoulder. “You’re my friend, too, Max, and I don’t want you to go and live with Emma Watson or Tom Hanks.”

“Thanks, Dooley,” I said, my voice breaking a little. “And you, Brutus. This means a lot to me, you guys. It’s so great to have real friends who’ve got my back.”

“We’re in this together,” Brutus said earnestly. “And together is how we will succeed.”

Suddenly, the sound of applause startled us, and when we looked up we saw that none other than Diego was seated on the wall that dead-ended the alley, and was clapping his paws. The sound was muffled, for cat paws have cushions, which makes it hard for us to clap. Still, Diego managed just fine, and I could see his lips pucker into his customary sneer.

“I’m touched,” he said. “So much love and affection. It’s almost as if the seventies are back. Next you’ll want to be wearing flowers in your hair and talk about brotherly love.”

“What do you want?” Brutus growled, his face taking on a menacing scowl.

“Want? From you losers? Nothing. You provide me with a lot of entertainment, though. In fact you idiots are more fun to watch than The Big Bang Theory. For my money, Max is Leonard, Brutus is Howard, and Dooley is Raj. That only leaves Sheldon, but I think we can all agree that he’s too smart for a bunch of morons like yourselves.”

“And what about Penny?” asked Dooley, who seemed interested in this comparison.

“Great question, Raj,” said Diego musingly. “I’d like to say that Harriet is Penny, and I’m the one she’s decided to give her heart to.”

“So… who are you?” asked Dooley, a look of confusion stealing over his features.

“I’m the cat who’s canceling the show and launching his own spinoff.”

“Like… The Big Diego Theory?”

“I like that,” Diego admitted with an indulgent smirk. “Though I might go with The Diego and Harriet Show. Cause it’s gonna be Diego and Harriet doing the horizontal mambo every hour, on the hour.”

“Don’t even think about it,” grunted Brutus. “Your little show won’t even make it past the writing stage. The network will cancel you before you make it into production.”

“Me and Odelia, who’s the network executive in charge of greenlighting new shows, are this close,” he said, holding his claws an inch apart, “and she told me my show’s a go.”

I was having a hard time following the analogy, but I didn’t like what I was hearing. “Odelia told you… what, exactly?”

He shrugged. “Odelia is tired of you, Max. Oh, she liked you well enough in the beginning, but after seeing your ugly mug moping around the house all these years she’s in the market for something new. Something fresh and exciting.” He gestured at himself. “Moi.”

“I don’t believe you,” I said. “Odelia would never say something like that.”

“She would never say it to your face, Max, which is why she said it to me. She’s had it with you. She’s sick and tired of having some fat slob stalking her and she’s thinking hard about how to get rid of you so you’ll never come back.”

“She-she told you this?”

“Sure she did. And don’t even think about asking her about it. She’ll deny everything, of course.”

“He’s lying, Max,” said Brutus. “He’s full of crap. Just like he’s full of crap about the Diego and Harriet Show. Harriet would never star in a show with the likes of you, Diego. Harriet loves me.”

Diego laughed. “It would be funny if it wasn’t so sad.” He gave us a horrendously fake pout. “Poor Brutus. Dumped by his sweetheart. And soon dumped by his human, too.”

“My human would never dump me. Chase is crazy about me.”

“No, he’s not. And neither are Marge or Vesta. Or Tex for that matter. The Pooles are done with you three—yeah, you, too, Dooley. Out with the old—in with the new.” He shook his head and tsk-tsked. “If I were you, I’d do the honorable thing and leave now, with your dignity intact. Beats being kicked out and humiliated by the Pooles. Oh, and you don’t have to thank me for the heads-up. I believe in doing the right thing. That’s the kind of cat I am.”

“I’m going to get you for this,” Brutus said, holding up one paw, his claws extending menacingly.

“Wow, Wolverine!” said Diego, laughing. “You and whose army?”

“Clarice,” said Dooley. “She’s going to help us get rid of you.”

“Dooley, shut up!” I hissed. “She’s our secret weapon—emphasis on secret.”

“Clarice is gone,” said Diego, casually giving his paw a lick.

“Gone?” I asked, and I could see the consternation on Brutus and Dooley’s faces.

“How can she be gone?” asked Dooley.

“He’s lying,” said Brutus. “Can’t you see he’s lying through his teeth?”

“Oh, no, I’m not,” said Diego, then fixed us with a nasty stare. “Why do you think I came back? I took care of Clarice. Payback for what she did to me. She’s gone, dudes. And she’s never coming back. I made sure of that.” And then he produced the most hideous laugh I’d ever heard. It chilled me to the bone. When I glanced up again—Poof!—he was gone.

Vaguely, I registered Dooley yelping and crying, “He vanished in a puff of smoke! He’s a demon!” I was too stunned to respond. Had Diego killed Clarice? It wasn’t possible. Or was it?