Katt vs. Dogg: Chapters 48–63

“Well, here we are, dude and dudette!" said Momsy, the blubbery polar bear. “The Mighty Big River. Your so-called civilization is right over there on the other side.”

On the far shore of the churning, choppy water, they could see a road and buildings. They were so close to going home!

“Um, what are you doing, Molly?”
“Licking my paws. It helps me think.”
“Good idea.” Oscar hunkered down into a prone position. “I do my best thinking in pre-pounce mode.”

The two of them stared at the river. And the far shore. And the logs and branches whizzing downstream in the roiling rapids.
“If only we had a raft,” said Oscar.
“Yeah,” said Molly.

“We want to build a raft,” said Molly.
“Interesting,” said the beaver. “Never built one, myself, but I’ve seen ’em. I mostly build dams and other infrastructure projects.”

“Then I won’t try to convince you otherwise,” said the otter. “One thing I’ve learned is never try to teach a pig to sing. You waste your time and you annoy the pig.”
“Um, neither one of us is a pig,” said Oscar.
“It’s a metaphor, son. Work with me.”

Old Jim kept blathering on about the Mighty Big River but he also kept flipping his tail like crazy. The ancient otter was so incredibly strong he was able to pilot the raft across the river, through the swift current, even while he waxed poetic on all manner of subjects.

The deer dipped his head.
The vine whipped around and around his antlers like a bolo.
“I charge a docking fee,” the deer snorted, once the rope line was tied off, taut and secure.

At that very moment, Boomer Hissleton the Third, Esquire, was addressing a crowd on the steps of the capitol building in Faunae City.
“My fellow katts,” he said into a bank of microphones. “My darling daughter needs your help. She has been lost in the wilderness for days. She has, undoubtedly, faced all sorts of gruesome, dangerous foes, including...”

“A dastardly, dangerous dogg!” he blurted, spitting out the horrible word as if it were a soggy lump of semi-digested fur.
The five or six katts in the crowd hissed. The lion, tiger, and panther growled.

The crowd outside the capitol building that morning was woefully thin and sparse. Molly had been missing for so long, she was rapidly becoming yesterday’s news. Not that many creatures were still interested in her plight.

The crowd outside the capitol building that morning was woefully thin and sparse. Molly had been missing for so long, she was rapidly becoming yesterday’s news. Not that many creatures were still interested in her plight.

The crowd outside the capitol building that morning was woefully thin and sparse. Molly had been missing for so long, she was rapidly becoming yesterday’s news. Not that many creatures were still interested in her plight.

“I beg your pardon?” snapped Boomer, Molly’s father.
Duke shrugged. “She’s a katt. What do katts know about fending for themselves? They always want somebody to wait on them and bring them din-din in dainty little crystal dishes.”

Oscar sat in his dogg bed flipping through the TV channels. One news station said he was a hero for surviving the “horrible and horrendous hardships” of the wilderness as only “a true Dogg Scout could.”

Pro-katt sites called Oscar a mutt, a mongrel, and a menace to society. They blamed him for everything from ticks to fleas to Molly’s nipped ear, which might “seriously jeopardize her dreams of becoming a famous feline movie star.”

“How may I be of assistance?” asked Molly, using super excellent diction to pronounce all the syllables.
“By letting me make you a star, Molly!” said the ferret. “We’ve been covering your struggle out in the wilderness. All the trials and tribulations of being stranded with your Sworn Enemy for Life. Now, we want to host a live, must-see TV event.”

“How may I be of assistance?” asked Molly, using super excellent diction to pronounce all the syllables.
“By letting me make you a star, Molly!” said the ferret. “We’ve been covering your struggle out in the wilderness. All the trials and tribulations of being stranded with your Sworn Enemy for Life. Now, we want to host a live, must-see TV event.”

Everybody had their cell phones up to snap pictures of the two combatants’ big arrival. The TV ferret was there with her blazing lights and camera crew, ready to interview Oscar and Molly.

“She will, indubitably, shred the dogg to pieces,” added her father, who was hovering over her shoulder.

“Well, we’re looking forward to seeing you in action, Molly,” said the ferret. “We hope you tear into that dogg the way a jackal tears into roadkill. But, wait. Here comes your opponent. Ladies and gentlemen, here he is, scampering up the red carpet, tail wagging, tongue lolling, ears perked up. It’s the Dogg Scout himself. Here comes Molly’s opponent, Oscar!”

“You want to hug him?” said the ferret, as if she couldn’t believe her own ears. “Where is the drama in that, Molly? Your fans did not come here tonight to see a hug-fest. They came for a slugfest! They want conflict, Molly. Action. Theater. Spectacle. And a good actress always gives her audience what they came to see!”

Oscar would’ve been sweating profusely except doggs don’t sweat, they just pant. So he did that.

“Molly?” the ferret pressed.
“Well, um, okay.” Now Molly sounded nervous. And, from the look on her face, she was feeling kind of queasy. Oscar wondered if she’d had nacho-flavored dogg food for dinner, too.
“The, uh, dogg, he chased me...”
All the katts hissed.

“But Molly knew all about herbs and medicines. She helped heal me.”
“It was the least I could do,” Molly said modestly. “I would’ve lost one of my nine lives to that weaselboar if it weren’t for him. Thank you, Oscar.”