Katt vs. Dogg: Chapters 1–9

Oscar gave that a hearty howl! “Aaaa-ooooh!”
The dusty pickup zoomed up the highway, cutting in and out of traffic, until it was parallel with the sleek black SUV.

Molly’s brother, Blade—who was feeling better after a brief bout of carsickness, which included some hairball hurling—was playing with his handheld game gizmo, chasing a red dot.

The katt driver slowly slinked out of the SUV, daintily licking his right paw as if he didn’t have a care in the whole, wide world.

The katt driver slowly slinked out of the SUV, daintily licking his right paw as if he didn’t have a care in the whole, wide world.

“Bunch of weirdos,” whispered Oscar’s dad out of the side of his muzzle. “He looks like a freak.”
“I’m a she,” said the hawkowl. “And thanks to my owl half, I have a highly developed auditory system.”

“Huh?” said Oscar’s father.
“She said she can hear very, very well, you dumb dogg!” shouted the katt driver as the rest of his family piled out of the SUV to preen in the sunshine.

Danger lurks around every corner in the wilderness. Beware the wild things! They’re hungry 24/7.

“And that,” Oscar’s dad whispered snidely, “is how you end up with a freak show riding a moosehorse.”

The hawkowl sighed. “‘Oh, East is East and West is West, and never the twain shall meet.’”
“Huh?” said Oscar’s dad.
“It’s poetry,” said the snobby katt dad, as his family climbed back into their SUV. “Read a book sometime!”

The hawkowl sighed. “‘Oh, East is East and West is West, and never the twain shall meet.’”
“Huh?” said Oscar’s dad.
“It’s poetry,” said the snobby katt dad, as his family climbed back into their SUV. “Read a book sometime!”

“What a shame,” he heard the hawkowl lament to her moosehorse. “What a waste of our beautiful park. The enmity between your two species has caused this world so much grief. Who can forget the saga of the doggs dumping kattnip into Pawston Harbor? Or the horrible Battle of Pettysburg during Furred War One? All creatures, great and small, have suffered because this enduring katt and dogg feud will never, ever end.”

“What a shame,” he heard the hawkowl lament to her moosehorse. “What a waste of our beautiful park. The enmity between your two species has caused this world so much grief. Who can forget the saga of the doggs dumping kattnip into Pawston Harbor? Or the horrible Battle of Pettysburg during Furred War One? All creatures, great and small, have suffered because this enduring katt and dogg feud will never, ever end.”

“What a shame,” he heard the hawkowl lament to her moosehorse. “What a waste of our beautiful park. The enmity between your two species has caused this world so much grief. Who can forget the saga of the doggs dumping kattnip into Pawston Harbor? Or the horrible Battle of Pettysburg during Furred War One? All creatures, great and small, have suffered because this enduring katt and dogg feud will never, ever end.”

Off in the distance, Oscar could see a mountain that looked like a huge hooked nose with a droopy wart on one side. Or maybe it looked like a pile of mashed potatoes with some kibble stuck into its peak. Or maybe it was a mountain made entirely out of chopped meat with a bone-shaped dogg biscuit poking out of the side.

Oscar was quite athletic. He was the star player on his school’s tennis ball team. He was speedy, too. An average dogg can run about twenty miles per hour. Oscar? Coach clocked him doing twenty-seven! He was also pretty agile.

Oscar sat down and tilted his head to the right while the katt dad scampered down out of the SUV.

The hair and hackles on Oscar’s back shot up.
The katt dad hissed. “Trust me,” he said to Oscar with disdain. “I don’t want to be here amidst you mangy mutts and mongrels, either!”

The hair and hackles on Oscar’s back shot up.
The katt dad hissed. “Trust me,” he said to Oscar with disdain. “I don’t want to be here amidst you mangy mutts and mongrels, either!”

The hair and hackles on Oscar’s back shot up.
The katt dad hissed. “Trust me,” he said to Oscar with disdain. “I don’t want to be here amidst you mangy mutts and mongrels, either!”

The katt clawed a long gouge into a fence post.

The tires on the big black vehicle shot gravel backward as it sped away.
When it stopped blocking the mess hall entrance, Oscar could, once again, savor the delish aroma of bacon grease mixed with sausage grease. He licked his chops. It was breakfast time.

Oh, boy, thought Oscar. We’re heading off into the glorious, magical, marvelous park!
He loped over to where his dad, mom, and sister were waiting.

“Duke?” said Oscar’s mom. “Honestly. We’re on vacation.”
“Maybe. But a true dogg’s hatred of katts never takes a day off.”
“Totally,” said Fifi. “They’re, like, so prissy. And cheesy..."

“I’m going to get you!” Oscar gloated with glee.
“You said that already,” chittered the squirrel, twenty feet overhead.
“Well, I’m going to. Oh, yes I am.”
“Oh, no, you’re not!” scoffed the squirrel as it floated between trees like an autumn leaf with a jet pack.

“I’m going to get you!” Oscar gloated with glee.
“You said that already,” chittered the squirrel, twenty feet overhead.
“Well, I’m going to. Oh, yes I am.”
“Oh, no, you’re not!” scoffed the squirrel as it floated between trees like an autumn leaf with a jet pack.

“Oh, what’s the matter, pal?” chirped the annoying flying squirrel from a high branch in a tall tree. “Run out of gas? I thought you were doggedly determined to catch me. See what I did there? I made a pun. You want another one? I once knew a dogg who wasn’t fat, he was just a little husky. Get it? Husky?”

“Help!” Oscar shouted.
Then, he started barking it and baying it and howling it and yowling it!
“Help, help, help, help!”
He wailed for help so hard for so long, his throat started to hurt.

Oscar couldn’t count that high. He still wasn’t very good at math.
He decided to abandon his flying squirrel quest and try to find his way back to the dogg camp.

Oscar crossed the creek—one rock at a time—then headed up into the forest. After maybe a quarter of a mile, he took a right turn at a moss-covered boulder, ran maybe another quarter of a mile, scampered down a steep slope, leapt across a narrow waterfall, hurried downstream on the far bank, turned left at a gnarled stump, right at a grass clump, then left, right, left, right until he came to a burbling stream trickling across a path of rocks that made excellent stepping stones.

Oscar had never been this alone before.
He was a city dogg lost in the woods—somewhere on the far edge of civilization.
His ears were back, his head bowed, and his tail was tucked tightly between his haunches.
This was not good. This was the opposite of good.