the adventures of flat cat

The next morning I woke up early to go to the boat show. I wanted to look good, so I carefully combed my fur and put on my extra-cool sneakers with the bright neon-yellow laces.

I slowly got out of the dinghy at the dinghy dock and thought, “Oh! I should have borrowed Brave Heart’s Cape!” Oh well, I still had my extra-cool sneakers with the bright neon yellow laces. This time when I walked in I knew exactly where to go. I went straight to the far end and then to Rufus’ booth. He looked up at me from the ground and said in a voice that was almost a whisper, “Maximillion is over there at booth B32.”

“Okay,” I whispered back. As I turned and headed toward B32 I heard a chuckle and something that sounded like, “crazy shoes.”

I looked down at my shoes. No, in my opinion they were not crazy, they were my extra-cool sneakers with the neon yellow laces!

I looked up. There was Maximillion staring at a model of a Pico and mumbling to himself. I took a step forward and tripped over my yellow laces. Maximillion looked at me, and I’ll never forget that face. He had a bite taken out of one ear, and a scar going down his cheek and across his chest. His eyes were small and fierce, but then they softened when he saw I wasn’t Rufus.

“Hi, I’m Flat Cat,” I said, trying to sound cheerful, “and are you Maximillion?”

“Yes,” he answered in a low, husky voice that seemed ridiculous considering his small stature.

How in the world did those silly humans think that Maximillion was cute? Just then a small boy came up to us. Maximillion’s eyes suddenly grew large and soft; he put on an innocent look and wagged his tail. So that’s how he did it! Come to think of it, he was a cute dog; all he had to do was act friendly and everybody melted over him.

“Poor doggie,” said the boy, “some mean dog beat you up, huh?” Maximillion yielded to the petting and fondling, still wagging his tail. When the boy was gone, I decided to try to talk.

“So,” I said, “Where were you born?” This question is important to dogs and cats because where you were born shows what kind of family you came from. Being born in a nice home is the best, being born at your family’s own establishment in the “wild” is next, and being born at an animal shelter is the absolute worst.

“I was born in our family’s shack in Texas, where were you born?” Maximillion asked.

“I was born underneath a wooden playground in Alabama; they make great caves,” I answered. “How did you get up here Maximillion?”

“Oh, I wandered a little too far one day and a stranger picked me up on his way back home. How ‘bout you?” Maximillion replied.

“My owners picked me up on their way to Fort Lauderdale, and now I live on a boat.” I said.

“Really, what kind of a boat?” asked Maximillion.

“Lagoon 380,” I answered.

“Doesn’t Beneteau own Lagoon?” he asked.

“Yes, I think it does,” I said, “do you want to go look at a Beneteau with me? I’m sure they have one here, and if not, we can look at a Lagoon.” A look of greed flashed over Maximillion’s face and then vanished.

“Sure, it’s nearly lunch time so we can slip on while they’re not watching,” he said, trying to hide the sound of greed in his voice. I did not want him to take over the Beneteau company any more than the Vanguard company, so I racked my brain for something to say that would distract his attention from the design of the boat. As we walked around the boat show in search of the Beneteau I noticed something around Maximillion’s neck.

“Cool,” I said, “what’s that?”

“A raccoon’s tooth,” answered Maximillion carelessly, “That’s where I got the scar.”

Owning a raccoon’s tooth in the animal world is even better than owning a shark’s tooth for humans. I doubted that he had actually fought a raccoon. An adult raccoon could be 6 times Maximillion’s size, and if by some Herculean effort he had killed the raccoon, he would have so many gashes and wounds he would be unable to even get the tooth much less survive another night. Besides, the tooth was too white to be a real tooth; in fact as I looked closer I was sure it must be porcelain. I didn’t tell him any of this; I just acted like it was real and said, “Wow.”

“Where did you get your sneakers?” asked Maximillion, changing the subject.

“I got them from the Cruising Pet Catalog,” I said, “the laces used to be a lanyard with a whistle on it.”

Maximillion stifled a snicker as we stole quietly onto a Beneteau sailboat. When we were finished looking at the boat I looked at my watch. “12:30 already,” I said, “I’m hungry too. Do you want to have lunch with me?”

“No,” said Maximillion, “I need to go home.”

“Too bad,” I said, “Oh well, goodbye.”

“Bye,” was Maximillion’s gruff reply.

Now my adventures were beginning! I turned, walked behind a tent, and then peeked around the corner. Maximillion was hurrying under the side of a tent not too far away from me, so I followed. Just as I entered the tent I saw Maximillion pulling on a paper marked, “Vanguard Sailboats: Club 1.” I ducked behind a counter and watched as Maximillion rolled up the blueprints and slipped it into a yellow newspaper bag. Looking around carefully, he trotted out of the tent. I followed him, ducking behind a tree here and a tent there until there were barely any trees left. Then Maximillion sat down abruptly in the tall grass to look at the blueprints. I quickly climbed up into the nearest tree and tried to pick the little yellow newspaper bag out from the tall grass. I had just found it when a family came walking by. One of the boys spotted my sneakers in the tree, but failed to see me. They all started to throw rocks at my feet, and since I did not want to lose my extra-cool sneakers I hurried farther up the tree. Eventually the family lost interest in my shoes and walked on. By this time Maximillion had also started to walk on and I had a hard time finding him. Eventually I did find him and followed as close as I dared. After what seemed like forever the tall grass suddenly ended. I nearly tripped over my laces, but I dove right back into the grass just in time to avoid Maximillion’s backward glance. A bird flew up from where I had landed and for a moment I thought Maximillion was going over to check it out. Evidently he changed his mind because I heard him mutter, “Just a bird, too cautious.”

I gathered up my courage and peeked out from behind the tall grass. Maximillion was walking up to a tall, black, iron gate with bars placed so close together that Maximillion could have barely squeezed his paw in between them. I watched closely as he laid down the blueprints and pulled the raccoon’s tooth off of his neck. He placed the tooth into a sort of padlock and turned it like a key. The gate swung open admitting Maximillion and his precious newspaper bag. After that, he had quite a time shutting the huge gate and then locking it again, but finally he accomplished it.

I was glad because I was beginning to be restless after standing in one place for so long. I ran up to the gate and looked in between the bars. Maximillion was opening a large heavy door that went into a windowless house. There was a small pool in front of the house with a statue in the middle spitting water into the pool. I tried the lock but found that it was no use. Then I remembered! I, Flat Cat, am flat so with little or no effort at all I could slip between those bars! One problem. I was wearing my extra-cool sneakers with the neon-yellow laces, which, no matter how hard I tried, would not go between those bars. As always I had a solution. I threw my sneakers way up in the air and watched them disappear over the side of the gate. There! After I had done that I slipped through to the other side.

I looked around for my sneakers but they were nowhere to be found! I began to be really worried when all of a sudden one of them fell out of the air right in front of me! I looked up. There on top of the tall statue was my other sneaker and a squirrel on top of that. I began to throw rocks to get my sneaker down and I finally succeeded after the squirrel decided to get off.

When my sneakers were back on my feet I looked around for a way to get inside the house. I was definitely not going to be able to go in the door or window of this windowless house, but something else caught my eye. There was an air-conditioning duct on the side of the house that had slots that were only just big enough for me to fit through. Once again, my sneakers wouldn’t fit. I left my extra-cool sneakers outside (I was beginning to have a lower opinion of them) and crawled through the slot.

There was a long network of tunnels going all through the attic and I had a hard time finding a way out. I finally found one though, and as soon as I was out I looked around. I was in a coat closet that opened up into an office or study, judging by what I saw through the keyhole. There was no one in the room so I slid underneath the door. As soon as I was out I heard voices in the next room; I froze, and then inched along toward the door and gently placed my ear to the keyhole.

“Very good Maximillion,” said a high, cranky voice, “Club 1 was the last blueprint we needed. Now we take over, now we take over Beneteau! Ehh, hee hee hee!”

That cackling laugh sent chills down my spine. I heard Maximillion’s husky voice say, “So are you going to show me where we keep them now?” There was an uneasy groan and then a sigh. “Oh, alright.”

I squinted and looked into the keyhole. An old man with a sharp hawk-like nose was sitting on an old rickety chair. Maximillion was seated on a rug in front of a fire whose leaping flames sent eerie shadows onto the walls of the dark room. The man rose from his chair and hobbled over to an old T.V. entertainment center and opened up the lower cabinet. He stretched his arm as far as it would go and all but disappeared into the cabinet. After a lot of grunting and groaning, the old man pulled out his arm carrying a wooden box carefully chosen to match the wood of the TV entertainment center. The old man chuckled, “They’d never guess! Oh, ho, ho! No, never.”

Maximillion made a move towards the box.

“Oh, no you don’t,” screamed the man, “If you ever touch this box you’ll have another scar to show off!” The man pointed to Maximillion’s “raccoon” scar with a desperate look. Maximillion whimpered and backed off. The man unlocked his box and greedily stuffed the blueprints in. He shoved it into the back of the cabinet and then looked up. “Well, what are you waiting for?” the man asked.

“I’m waiting for the lunch you promised me,” Maximillion said coldly.

“Oh, right. Maximillion, you are such an expensive dog to feed. Try to have a smaller appetite,” said the man, dumping a can of spam onto a plate. Maximillion chose to ignore that statement.

I laughed inwardly at the idea of Maximillion being an expensive dog to feed! From what I could tell he was smaller than any Chihuahua I had ever seen and besides, Maximillion got most of his food from places like the boat show.

The man shoved half of the spam in front of Maximillion’s nose. “One dollar and twenty-five cents!” he said, “That’s a lot of money you know, ONE DOLLAR AND TWENTY FIVE CENTS!”

Maximillion lowered his head and grumbled something like “not fresh meat.”

As for me it was all I could do to keep from laughing. When Maximillion was finished eating the old man stood up and said, “You’re dismissed, Maximillion.” Immediately Maximillion jumped up and ran through a wooden doggie door in the wall. The man took the key that he had used to open his box and carefully pulling out one of the bricks on the fireplace, he placed the key behind it.

I took note of this brick and watched eagerly. The man turned to a door that led outside, and glancing at his watch said, “In an hour.” He opened the door and went outside. Whew! Now came the fun part! I slid under the door and ran for that brick. When the key was in my hand I climbed into the cabinet. It was very dark and I had a hard time finding the box. I kept on bumping into a video rack. It wasn’t long before I discovered that the video rack was the box. Since I wasn’t strong enough to lift the box, I opened it up right there. There were the blueprints for the Zuma, Sunfish, Pico, Lazer1, Lazer2, Club 740, Pram, and even Greencheese3 (must be a code name). I looked at my watch. Thirty-seven minutes until the hour was up. After checking to see that no one was looking I shut myself in the cabinet and fumbled around for my cell phone. I dialed 972-RUFF and waited for Rufus to answer.

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