Katt Loves Dogg: Chapters 13–25

Blade cracked up. Molly rolled her eyes. Her father could be such an oaf sometimes.

“Sorry. I was in the shower forever because the shampoo bottle said lather, rinse, repeat, so I did. Several times.”

“But I love...Tom,” said Violet with, Molly noticed, the hint of a stifled giggle.

The car jounced along the rutted dirt road until they came to a gatehouse.

Finally, an old brown bear leisurely strolled out of the ramshackle gatehouse.

“Oh,” said the bear with a not at all subtle wink.

“No wonder you were throwing a hissy fit. In fact, I’d say you were getting hiss-sterical. Heh-heh-heh. I find a little levity can often lighten an otherwise tense situation. How about you?”

“Okay,” said the bear, who seemed to be switching to autopilot to give his standard check-in spiel.

“I have written Violet this love poem!” said Romaldo, unfurling a piece of parchment and reading the poetry stretching down the scroll.

I think I’ve got the gist of it.

“I’m not a park ranger, Whiskers. I’m the superintendent. Means I’m the big kahuna. The head honcho. Mister Cheese.”

Inside, Molly seethed. Outside, she smiled.

She could pretend that the bumbling bear hadn’t just offended her even though he totally had.

“Heavens, sir,” Molly’s father said to the bear, “aren’t the doggs legally obligated to stay on their side of the river?”

Mavericks are always jumping the fence to herd the cows.

Anyhoo, I’ll mosey over to the dogg section after lunch, have a word with them.

And be on the lookout for renegade doggs.

The bear lumbered away.

“We should photograph those paw prints! Make a plaster cast mold. It will help us identify the perpetrator.”

Now the river sounded like a thousand angry lions as its white water sluiced under a fallen tree and cascaded over a cliff in a curve of sudsy bubbles.

Oscar struggled and kicked and flailed. But he couldn’t fight the current.

Molly was on the fallen tree straddling the raging rapids.

Oscar was dismayed by how many angry creatures there were, not only in the world, but also in the Eastern Wilderness Reserve.

“But, just in case you hadn’t noticed, that creature you’re riding is a dogg! First he invades our space, next he slips into yours. That dogg is an interloper and an intruder.”

You’re being invaded by a mangy dogg!

“Oh, great,” said Molly as the rhino kept horn-butting trees on his side of the border, making their canopy of leaves rustle loudly.

Molly stealthily slipped around trees and bushes on katt paws.

Superintendent Bob, that big boor of a bear, found some dogg paw prints behind our camper.

“My cousin Romaldo is sort of weak. Very little upper body strength. I had to help him carry his kibble tray in the dining hall because it was too heavy for him.”

“Well,” said Molly, “I think Romaldo snuck into our campsite, probably late last night, hoping to rendezvous with Violet.”

We fear the dastardly dogg katt-napper is on the prowl for his next victim.

“Oh, I’m so afraid, Father,” said Molly, pretending to swoon a little.

“Hey, looky there, George,” said a reedy voice over Oscar’s head.

“We saw a dogg in a puffy-sleeved shirt slinking through your woods.”

“It’s a special mixture of wheat berry, barley, and rye seeds,” explained Molly.

“The sun is sending up all sorts of reflections. Check it out, Molly! Reflections are dancing everywhere!”
“I can’t,” Molly exploded. “If I do, Oscar, I’ll get mesmerized. All I’ll want to do is chase the tiny dots of light!”

The seven swaggering katts sauntered over to check out their first real live lion.

Soon they were giggling and acting goofy, rolling on their backs, playing hide-and-seek with any sparkling reflections that drifted their way. With any luck, she thought, they’ll get so giddy they’ll forget all about the phony lion named Simba and claiming any reward.

And then she heard a steady barrage of pellets pelting the forest floor.

And then she heard a steady barrage of pellets pelting the forest floor.