“It’s okay we’re not speaking to each other,” said the dogg. “I like the sounds of silence. Especially out here in nature. I can hear a stream streaming. And crickets chirping. And the wind whipping through the treetops. It’s like a whistle. A dogg whistle. That means I can hear it but you can’t.”
Enough, thought Molly. She spun around.
“All I can hear is you!” she hissed.
“Ooooh! Hello, Molly. Does this mean you’re speaking to me again?”
“No.”
“But you are. You’re speaking to me right now.”
“No. I am not.”
“Yes, you are! You just did!”
Molly was about to say something but she realized that would give the dogg something to say.
So, she simply turned on her heel and hurried down the darkening trail.
“I’m glad we had that little chat,” said the dogg. “Now we can just listen to the birds chirp. Although, to be honest, they might be chirping about you. I don’t think birds like katts. I think birds hate katts even more than doggs do. I mean, at least katts don’t eat doggs. Birds? Woof! You guys always have feathers sticking out of your mouths…”
Molly’s ears shot up.
And not because of anything Oscar said.
She heard a low rumbling growl, off in the underbrush to her right.
She whipped around and saw it.
It was lying on a fallen tree trunk, smiling and drooling and rubbing its front paws together.
“My, my, my. A katt and a dogg. My favorite combination platter.”
It was the mountain lion!
Chapter 24
Uh-oh, thought Oscar. The mountain lion is back! Because, duh, we’re hiking toward a mountain!
That was dumb, dumb, dumb!
Why did Oscar tell the katt to head to the mountain? Mountain lions live in mountains, otherwise they’d be called valley lions or stream lions or…
“Decisions, decisions,” purred the wild mountain lion. “Which one to eat first? My cousin, the mangy katt? Or the delectable and delicious dogg?”
“I’m not mangy!” Molly hissed. “I just need time to give myself a bath.”
“Mr. Mountain Lion… isn’t it t-too late for b-b-breakfast?” stammered Oscar, as he gave the predator his best puppy eyes. It was a look that always worked on his mother. Puppy eyes could melt the hardest heart. He added a soft little whimper to amp up the effect.
“My, my, my. I love it when my food is cute. Such an adorable presentation.”
The mountain lion padded forward.
Leaves and twigs crunched and snapped.
Oscar did not like those sounds.
Then he heard a buzzing. Probably all the terrified nerves zizzing inside his head.
“Bee!” shouted the katt. “Follow me!”
The katt bolted off after the zig-zagging bee. Oscar took off after her.
The mountain lion roared. “Come back here! Breakfast is the most important meal of the day!”
The earth shook. Oscar knew that meant the mountain lion was in hot pursuit. He picked up his pace. Forget twenty-seven miles per hour. He gunned it. He was doing thirty. Maybe thirty-five. Coach would be super proud of his wind sprint ability—if he lived long enough to tell Coach about it.
Oscar caught up with the katt. “Hop on my back!”
“What? Why? I’m a faster runner than you, dogg!”
“True. But only in sprints. Not endurance. I can maintain my speed for a long distance better than you can.”
“No, thanks,” said the katt, breathing heavily. “I’m better off on my own.”
The mountain lion roared.
It startled the katt so much she sprang up, shot out four legs, and landed on Oscar’s back.
“Yowzers! Easy with the claws!”
“Sorry,” said the katt. “My bad. Head right!”
“What?”
“Dash down the hill. Into the valley. Follow that bee!”
“Why?”
“It’s our best hope.”
“For what?”
“Honey!”
Great, thought Oscar. The krazy katt on my back wants to make sure her cousin, the maniac mountain lion, has honey to drizzle over his dogg meat. Sweet.
Oscar’s ears perked up. He tried to block out the snarls of the mountain lion and focus on the buzz of the bee.
Oscar isolated the sound of the lone buzzing bee. He let it lead him down a sloping hill and across a rippling stream.
Now he heard more buzzing. And more. The whole forest was humming with a swarm of buzzes.
“Yipes!” he yelped. “More bees! Dozens of them!”
“Exactly what I was hoping for!” said the katt on his back. “Follow them!”
“Where are they taking us?” Oscar wondered through his heavy panting. He was a very good long-distance runner. Usually, he didn’t get winded like this. Then again, usually, he didn’t have a katt riding on his back.
“They’ll lead us to their hive!” said the katt. “And, if we’re super lucky, we might find what we need.”
“Really? What’s that?”
“Another predator!”
What? thought Oscar. Why do we need another one of those?
He was about to find out.
Chapter 25
Molly had guessed correctly.
There was a giant grizzly bear at the beehive, enjoying his main meal of the day: a honey-coated honeycomb dripping with honey.
“Swerve left!” Molly shouted. “We need to hide behind that stump. The fur is about to fly!”
“Ours?” yelped the dogg.
“Nope,” said Molly as she leapt off his back. “But that mountain lion is about to meet its match—his sworn enemy!”
Molly and Oscar ducked down.
The mountain lion raced into the clearing.
The bear roared.
The mountain lion slammed on its brakes and growled defensively.
“You’re a bear,” it snarled.
“Are you talking to me?” said the bear. “Are you talking to me?”
“So, sorry,” said the mountain lion, sounding way too civilized for a wild beast. “Forgive the intrusion.”
“Are you still talking to me?” The bear tossed its beehive aside. It stood up on its hind legs and, towering over the mountain lion, licked the honey dribbling off its claws.
“Um, very nice meeting you, bear,” said the mountain lion. “Must skedaddle.”
He took off running.
“Oh, you can run,” the bear thundered, “but you cannot hide!”
Molly and Oscar gave the two wild creatures time to chase each other out of the valley. When they were both sure the two ferocious beasts were gone, they came out of their hiding spot behind the stump.
“You are one clever katt!” said Oscar. “You knew that bee was heading to its hive and there would be a bear there, too!”
Molly shrugged. “I had a hunch.”
The dogg wagged his tail.
“You’re happy, right?”
“How’d you guess?”
“Never mind. We need to keep moving.”
“Okay.”
“And dogg?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for the ride on your back. You were correct. We katts are not made for long-distance running.”
“But you’re excellent at being sneaky. Also pouncing.”
“True. And you’re very good in a marathon.”
“But you also knew that bears don’t like mountain lions. I didn’t know that.”
“Stick with me, Oscar,” said Molly. “I know stuff. Especially about sworn enemies.”
“You mean like us?”
“Precisely.”
The dogg tilted his head sideways. “You ever wonder why that is?”
“Why what is?”
“Why do katts hate doggs?”
Molly shrugged. “I guess for the same reason doggs hate katts.”
Now Oscar shr
ugged. “We just do, I guess. We always have and we probably always will. More of that instinct stuff.”
Molly nodded. “It’s just the way of the world. Come on. We need to keep moving. That mountain isn’t going to walk to us.”
“Nope,” said Oscar. “You want to ride on my back again?”
“No, that’s okay.”
“I insist,” said Oscar. “And this time, could you give me a good scratch behind the ears? Maybe a little shoulder rub?”
“No, Oscar. I am not going to be your personal masseuse!”
“Come on! I can’t reach those spots.”
“No. Not going to happen.”
“Pretty please? With tuna on top?”
“Nope.”
Happily bickering, Molly and Oscar headed off, hoping they’d reach the mountain shaped like a hooked nose before sunset.
Or before they bumped into another wild predator more interested in katts and doggs than honey or mountain lions.
Chapter 26
Oscar’s family was back home in Doggsylvania, huddled around their television set, watching the gripping news story on TV.
“The dogg’s name is Oscar,” the ferret reporter said to the camera. “He has been missing now for two days. Lost in the woods. Battling the elements. Frightened by every sound he hears, every shadow he sees. His tail, no doubt, permanently tucked between his legs.”
The screen filled with Oscar’s most recent class picture, the one where his eyes were closed and his tongue was hanging out of his mouth.
“That’s my boy!” said his father, Duke.
“Oh, Duke!” whined his mother. “Will we ever see that sweet, sweet smile again?”
“Sure, we will, Lola,” said Duke. “We’ll get the picture back. I just loaned it to the ferret so she could show it on TV.”
“That’s not what I meant, Duke!” blubbered Oscar’s mother. “What if Oscar never comes home?”
“Aw, don’t give yourself kennel cough, Lola! That freaky hawkowl promised us she’d find our boy. Plus, they have those crocodile-lions and grizzly wolves.”
“Can I have his toys?” said Fifi.
“What?”
“While Oscar is missing or lost or whatever, can I have his toys? Most of his still have their squeakers.”
When Fifi said that, Oscar’s mother howled so loudly, all the neighbors heard it and immediately joined in.
“Now look what you’ve done, Fifi,” said Duke. “You made your mother so sad, she started a howl fest. This could go on all night.”
Fifi rolled her eyes. “They usually do. May I please be excused? I want to go curl up in a ball and take a nap.”
“But they’re talking about your brother on TV,” sniffled her mom.
“I know. That’s why I need to take a nap. Borrrring.”
“You stay right here young lady and… grrrrrrrr!”
Duke’s attention snapped back to the TV screen. So did Fifi and Lola’s. Now the ferret was interviewing that snooty katt family, the one with the missing daughter.
“I’m here with Boomer Hissleton the Third, Esquire,” said the reporter. “You’re the father of the missing katt, Molly, is that correct?”
“Indeed.”
“How do you feel about your daughter being lost in the woods with her sworn enemy, a dogg?”
“How do you think I feel? Horrible. Ghastly. Sickened. Oh, the horror! Lost in the forest while a fiendish mutt is on the prowl. It’s unimaginably horrific!”
“That snobby katt makes me want to chase my tail until I catch it!” said Duke.
“I hope Oscar chases that stupid katt up a tree,” said Fifi.
“I agree,” said Lola. “It’s the katt’s fault that our Oscar is missing.”
“Um, how’s that work, Mom?” asked Fifi.
“Simple. The katt did it first. She was missing before Oscar.”
Duke arched an eyebrow. “Lola?” he snarled. “Did you just call our son a copykatt?”
“Oh, dear. I did, didn’t I? I’m so, so sorry.” She tilted back her head and howled.
And once again, the whole neighborhood joined in.
Chapter 27
It was after dark, which meant that Molly was wide awake.
Katts are nocturnal creatures. They do their best work after the sun has set. That’s why the katts’ shops and grocery stores stay open till six a.m. Most bargain-hunting and food-gathering in Kattsburgh takes place well after midnight.
Oscar the dogg, on the other hand, was starting to yawn.
“Maybe we should think about setting up camp for the night,” he said.
“Let’s keep going,” said Molly.
“But we can’t even see the mountain anymore.”
“Sure we can. It’s that dark lump next to that darker lump under the twinkling star.”
“Which twinkling star?” said Oscar, sounding exasperated. “There’s a billion of ’em!”
“Look, dogg,” said Molly. “I’m a katt. I do my best work at night.”
“Night is when you’re supposed to sleep!” said Oscar.
“Only if you’re a dogg!”
“Which I am!”
“Tell me something I couldn’t already smell!”
While they argued they came to a road lined with cornstalks. As they squabbled, their voices grew louder and louder. Before long, they were barking and caterwauling at each other.
Big mistake.
“Get off my land!” shouted a cranky voice in the darkness. “This is my farm, you varmints!”
“We’re not on your farm!” shouted Oscar. “We’re just lost!”
“Git!”
“Look,” said Molly, “it’s like Oscar said: We’re not on your farm. We’re on a road.”
“It’s my road!” answered the voice. “And this here…”
Molly heard something go click.
“This is my shotgun. I ain’t afraid to use it, neither! Now vamoose!”
“I’m not a moose!” hollered Oscar. “I’m a dogg.”
“And I’m a katt,” added Molly.
“We’re lost!” they shouted together.
“And hungry,” said Oscar.
“And cold,” said Molly.
“And we were chased by a mountain lion this morning,” said Oscar. “And then we hiked like twenty miles…”
“Frankly,” sighed Molly, “we’re miserable.”
“And scared,” whispered Oscar.
They heard footsteps. A row of cornstalks swayed open like a curtain to reveal one of the strangest creatures Molly had ever seen.
She was a doggkatt!
Chapter 28
Oscar couldn’t stop gawping at the doggkatt. His mouth hung open. Stringy drool dribbled out.
“What you gawkin’ at, young’un?” said the doggkatt, sounding like somebody’s grumpy grandmother who doesn’t like it when you pee on her sofa.
“Sorry,” said Oscar. “Didn’t mean to be rude. It’s just that I’ve never seen a creature that was half katt and half dogg.”
“Me, neither,” added Molly. “Not even in a monster movie.”
The granny grinned. “We are rare indeed. Even here in this magical park. Reckon there’s only a half dozen of us left.”
Oscar and Molly just nodded. They didn’t want the old doggkatt to know how much she was creeping them out.
“You say you’re lost?”
Oscar and Molly nodded some more. They also tried to smile.
“And hungry?”
They nodded one more time. They did not, however, move any closer to the weird creature from the cornfield. She walked on her two legs but she wasn’t wearing clothes, which meant she was wild. But usually “wild” meant “really mean and hoping to eat you” like the mountain lion. Why was she being so nice?
“Well, come along then,” she said. “You two can spend the night in my cabin. I’ll fix you something to eat.”
Eat? Oscar gulped. What if the freaky freak was also part mountain lion?<
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“Don’t worry, dogg,” the old creature laughed, as if she could read Oscar’s mind. “I ain’t gonna eat you or your katt friend. How could I? Why, you two remind me of my great-great-grandparents.”
“Um, we’re not really friends,” mumbled Oscar.
“We just called a temporary truce,” added Molly. “Friendship’s not really in the cards for us.”
“We’re sworn enemies,” said Oscar.
“More’s the shame,” sighed the elderly doggkatt. “I wish I could get you home myself, but these bones are too old for the journey. Just keep your noses pointed to Crooked Nose Mountain. Come on, shake a tailfeather. I’ve got supper on the stove. I like to eat late at night. Reckon it’s the katt in me…”
She led them down the road to her cabin. Oscar could smell the odors of something foul wafting on the breeze.
“I didn’t know wild animals lived in houses,” Molly said.
“I reckon there’s a lot you ‘civilized’ folk don’t know about us ‘wild’ ones,” said the doggkatt. “Here now, I fixed up a fish stew.”
Oscar whimpered.
“Don’t worry,” said the doggkatt. “It’s kattfish.”
Oscar wagged his tail. Slightly. Kattfish might be okay. Especially if you’re starving.
They sat down to supper and buried their faces in their bowls.
Oscar loved the stew.
“This fish is delish!” he said, his tail thumping against a leg of his stool.
“An old family recipe,” said the granny. “So, what are your names?”
“I’m Oscar!”
“Molly.”
“You two can call me Granny,” said the wrinkled doggkatt. “Most everybody in these parts does.”
“So, uh, how’d you, you know, become… you?” asked Oscar.
“Well, according to my parents—who heard the story from their parents—my great-great-grandfather and great-great-grandmother were a dogg and a katt, just like you two. They got lost in the wilderness, just like you two. They had a lot of close scrapes and angry words but, eventually, they realized that the only way the two of them could survive out here on the far edge of civilization was to work together.”
Katt vs. Dogg Page 5