The Cat Caper

Chapter Nine

I rounded on the beady-eyed intruder. Perhaps I should have been afraid of rabies or some other random infection, but in that moment I was just too angry to care about anything other than finding some answers. “Why do you have my cat’s collar?” I demanded, unwilling to back down.

The raccoon bared his teeth, then took far longer than I would have liked in deciding whether he wanted to talk to me or to bite me.

“Octavius Maxwell Ricardo Edmund Frederick Fulton is his own animal,” he said at last, enunciating each word carefully. “He can’t be owned by you or anyone else.”

Whatever answer I’d expected, it had most definitely not been this. “You kn-n-now him?” I stuttered, dropping to my knees so that I could look the animal in the eye.

He laughed nervously, all his bluster having disappeared in an instant. “Know him? No! I wish I knew him! Even to be standing in his home right now is such a tremendous honor. I can’t even begin to—”

“You broke in,” I snapped at him in frustration. “There’s no honor in that.”

The raccoon hung his head and wept. I couldn’t tell whether his tears were fake, but this ring-tailed bandit definitely gave both Nan and Octo-Cat a run for their money in the drama department. No matter what I did or where I went, I was always surrounded by thespians.

“Enough blubbering,” I blurted out, more than ready to get on with it. “Tell me who you are and why you’re here. Are you some kind of weird Octo-Cat fanboy?”

“He prefers his full name, I’ll have you know,” the raccoon actually had the audacity to correct me. “And I’m not just some random fanboy.” He shook his head adamantly, then bared his teeth again in a creepy smile that sent me stumbling backward to put a bit of distance between us. “I’m his biggest fan. Numero uno, baby!”

There weren’t many moments in my life when I’d done an actual facepalm. This, however, was one of them. “I didn’t know house cats could have fans,” I admitted, still in utter disbelief.

The raccoon shot forward and positioned his face mere inches from mine as he cried, “He’s not just any house cat, lady! He is the ultimate in animal sophistication.”

Okay, it was probably time to move the discussion to finding out whether he had any leads as to where Octo-Cat had gone, but I desperately needed to know how my cat had landed himself such an enthusiastic follower. “Why do you like him so much? How did your, um, fandom get started?”

The raccoon stood higher on his haunches and swept his hand in front of his face theatrically. “It all started one dark and starry night. I was going about my business as usual, spying on some humans, raiding some trash cans, you know, the works. When lo and behold, I found something new and shiny. It caught my eye right away. Not just because it looked valuable, but because the smell… Wow, what an aroma!”

He scooped the empty Fancy Feast can he’d brought in with him up from the floor and held it out to me. “It was the most succulent delicacy I’d ever tasted in all my life, and then to find that each day there was more! Wow, I was the luckiest trash panda in all of Blueberry Bay.”

I had to fight hard not to explode with laughter. “Did you just call yourself a tra—you know what? Never mind. Go on.”

“Well, naturally, I needed to learn more about from whence this heavenly food had come. So I started to watch. Observe, if you will. And that’s when I first saw Octavius. Being the intelligent creature that I am, I realized the food was his and that I was feeding off mere scraps. Made me wonder what other wonderful things he knew about, so I watched some more. Soon I’m learning about Evian and Apple, sun spots, and a million other amazing things. Naturally when I found his collar here, I knew it was the ultimate king piece for my collection. And in I came to see what else I might find or if—for the love of the great raccoon in the sky—I might actually get the chance to meet the great Octavius.”

“What’s your name?” I asked skeptically. For the first time since Octo-Cat had gone missing, I was actually glad he wasn’t around to hear this. I’d always assumed his ego couldn’t get any larger… until now.

The raccoon set the empty can of cat food back onto the floor and attempted to place Octo-Cat’s collar around his neck. With another off-putting, sharp-toothed smile, he asked, “Would it be too much to ask you to call me Octavius? If I could pick any name that’s the one I’d choose. Definitely.”

“Yes, definitely way too much.” I needed to be firm with this one, else we’d never get anywhere. At least he seemed smart and like he’d remember our conversation after the fact. Perhaps he’d even want to help. “What’s your actual name?”

He pouted a lower lip and looked down at his feet. “Pringle.”

Okay, that was adorable. So why did he seem embarrassed by it?

“Nice to meet you, Pringle. I’m Angie.” I reached out and shook his paw, and the raccoon knew just how to return the friendly gesture. He was definitely smart and definitely familiar with human and cat customs alike.

“So, Pringle. How’d you get a name like that?” I’ll be the first to admit this little guy had me enamored—hopeful, too.

“Well, Angie,” he began with zero hesitation. “It’s a long story, but basically when my mother was carrying me and my littermates, Pringles were her number one favorite trash snack. Me being the first born, Pringle became my name. Hey, actually it’s not that long of a story, after all. There you have it. The end.”

I allowed myself a small laugh before regaining my composure and sharing a bit of information I knew my new friend would not like. “Okay, Pringle. Thanks for the back story, but I’ve got bad news. Our dear Octavius has gone missing. It’s been close to twenty-four hours now, and we have no idea where to find him.”

The raccoon lifted both of his tiny black hands to his face and gasped. “Octavius, noooo!” he shouted. “You were far too young and perfect to meet such an untimely end.” Pringle then fell backward in a mock faint, and I wondered if he might also be watching a bit of television on the sly when he spied on us during the day.

“Hey. No, none of that!” I cried, nudging him until he sat back up. “Not dead! Why do you jump straight to dead?”

Pringle’s eyes widened and began to shine with gaiety. “Then he’s alive! Our dear Octavius is alive!”

When I nodded my confirmation, he jumped at least a foot in the air and pumped his fist enthusiastically. What an odd little creature.

“Stop jumping to conclusions and just listen, okay?” A smile snaked across my face when I realized exactly how I could get through to the hyperactive raccoon. “Octavius depends on it. Actually, he depends on you.”

“You had me at Octavius,” he said, taking a bow, although for the life of me, I didn’t know why. “And now you have my rapt attention.”

I nodded. “Good. Come meet the rest of the Octavius fan club, and we’ll catch you up.”

“I’m still the president, because I’m the number one fan,” he said, eyeing Charles and Nan with a newfound aggression as we approached.

“Of course you are,” I assured him. “You are definitely his biggest fan. I don’t think any of us are going to challenge you for that honor.”

Pringle smirked as if he’d just won some hugely desirable prize.

Charles waved hello to the newest member of our party. Nan held up her poster board, and I caught the raccoon up on everything we knew so far. Could his passion be the key to cracking this case wide open?

Oh, I sure hoped so.