Chapter 10
Chip
You ever get the feeling the world is falling apart, one cheese crumb at a time?
Because I do. And I’m not just saying that because a rogue mouse sprinted across the Princess Pavilion in broad daylight while I was posing for photos like a seasoned celebrity. I mean, yes, it was horrifying. It may have undermined my entire brand. But also? Rude.
Fish is pacing in front of me like she’s preparing to brief the CIA—Cat Investigative Agency. Her tail keeps twitching. That’s how I know things are about to get serious. When Fish gets twitchy, someone’s about to lose a limb. Or dignity. Or a cupcake.
The symposium is nice and all, but when duty calls, a cat’s got to answer—especially when that duty involves showing a fancy poodle who really runs this theme park.
Emergency meeting, Orange One, Fish announces with a yowl that could be heard in the next state over. We’ve got a mouse situation that requires immediate attention from our ground forces.
I hop down from my velvet throne with the grace of someone who definitely didn’t just face-plant into the cushion. Finally! Some real action. I was getting bored with all the adoration and treat offerings.
This is serious business, Fish continues, her black and white tail twitching with a threat. That mouse Georgie spotted means there could be an entire invasion force planning to infiltrate the symposium. We cannot allow rodents to compromise our reputation as the most elite mascots in Maine.
Right behind you, General Whiskers, I say, because Fish gets cranky when I don’t take her seriously. Should we alert our hooman?
Josie is busy interrogating suspects. And she already hired us and our furry counterparts with claws to handle the situation. This is a job for professionals.
We’re about to head into the woods when a distinctly Southern voice pipes up behind us.
Well, I do declare, where are y’all headed in such a hairy-scary hurry?
We turn to see Cupcake prancing toward us, her pom-poms bouncing with each step. Even after spending the morning around her, I’m still not entirely convinced she’s a real dog and not some kind of elaborate cotton candy sculpture that learned to walk and talk and beg for treats.
This is official park business, Fish replies with the kind of frost that can ice a cake. Not a social call for pampered poodles.
Oh, come on. Let me come along, Cupcake insists with the determination of a canine who’s never been told no in her entire perfectly groomed life.
I am, after all, a guest at this establishment, and I feel it’s my civic duty to assist with any pest control issues.
Plus, I haven’t had a proper adventure in ages, and my manicure could use some excitement.
I can practically hear Fish’s teeth grinding. Fine. But try to keep up, and try not to get your fancy fur dirty.
Honey, I’ll have you know I’m tougher than I look, Cupcake shoots back without missing a furry beat. Just because I’m beautiful doesn’t mean I can’t handle a little adventure.
We head into the woods behind the pavilion, where the autumn air carries the scent of pine needles and that particular smell that means “small creatures are definitely hiding nearby.” My whiskers twitch with anticipation—not because I’m planning to hunt anything, but because I’m curious to see how our army’s been doing.
Fish leads us deeper into the trees until we reach a small clearing where dappled sunlight filters through the canopy. She sits up straight, takes a deep breath, and lets out a yowl that could wake the dead.
ATTENTION! EMERGENCY ASSEMBLY! ALL UNITS REPORT!
The response is immediate and frankly a little terrifying. Cats emerge from everywhere—bushes, hollow logs, abandoned equipment, places I didn’t even know existed. They materialize like furry ninjas answering a call to arms.
These aren’t your average house cats. These are battle-hardened veterans of the Great Mouse Wars, former strays who’ve found purpose in protecting Huckleberry Hollow Wonderland from rodent invasions.
They’ve got scars, attitude, and the kind of streetwise confidence that comes from surviving on their own before landing the best gig in Maine.
There’s Patches, a calico with one torn ear and the disposition of someone who’s seen things.
Whiskerface, a gray tabby whose permanent scowl suggests he’s never met a mouse he couldn’t intimidate.
Shadow, a black tom who moves so quietly you’d think he was part ninja, part phantom.
And at least a dozen others, all looking like they could take down a small army of rodents without breaking a sweat.
They form a loose circle around our little group, and I can’t help but notice that every single pair of eyes is focused on Cupcake with the kind of interest usually reserved for intruders and suspicious-smelling treats.
Well, well, Patches drawls, her voice carrying the rough edge of someone who’s fought for every meal. What do we have here? Looks like someone brought their breakfast.
Is that a dog? asks a young orange kitten who’s clearly new to the force. It’s so... fluffy.
That’s not a dog, Whiskerface corrects with the authority of someone who’s seen every variety of creature this park has to offer. That’s what happens when you cross a cotton ball with delusions of grandeur.
Cupcake’s perfectly groomed composure starts to crack. I can see her swallowing hard, and her pom-poms seem to deflate slightly as she realizes she’s surrounded by creatures who could probably take her apart and use her for pillow stuffing.
Now, see here, she starts, but her voice wavers just enough to let everyone know she’s not as confident as she’s pretending to be.
Oh, this is rich. Shadow chuckles from somewhere in the circle. The fancy poodle wants to play with the big cats.
I bet she’s never even seen a real mouse, adds another cat. Probably thinks they come pre-packaged with little bows on them.
The entire lot of them laughs it up.
Maybe we should show her what we do to creatures that don’t belong here, Patches suggests with a grin that shows entirely too many teeth.
That’s when I realize Cupcake is actually terrified. Her breathing grows faster, and despite all her Southern belle bravado, she’s backing up toward the nearest tree as if she’s considering making a break for it.
And you know what? I don’t like seeing anyone get picked on, even if they do look like they fell into a cotton candy machine and decided to stay that way.
Hey! I step forward, putting myself between Cupcake and the circle of increasingly aggressive felines. She’s with us.
The entire clearing goes quiet. Even the birds stop chirping.
Excuse me? Patches blinks at me. Did the orange marshmallow just defend the poodle?
Her name is Cupcake, and she’s a guest here, I continue, puffing up my chest to make myself look more intimidating. Which probably isn’t very intimidating, but it’s the fluffy orange thought that counts. If you’ve got a problem with her, you’ve got a problem with me.
And me, Fish adds with a sigh that suggests she thinks I’ve lost my mind, but will back me up anyway. As much as it pains me to admit it, the cotton candy sculpture is under our protection.
The other cats exchange glances, clearly not sure what to make of this canine development.
Well, I do declare, Cupcake whispers behind me, and I can hear the relief in her voice. That’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me.
Thank Chip. Fish rolls her eyes my way. You’re such a big softie. A real cinnamon roll.
Did someone say cinnamon rolls? I perk up immediately, because priorities are priorities. I’m suddenly craving those. With extra frosting. And maybe some bacon bits on top.
Focus, Romeo, Fish snaps. We have business to conduct.
She turns to address the assembled ragtag army with the authority of a cat who’s definitely watched too many war movies.
Listen up, troops. We’ve got a confirmed mouse sighting at the symposium. This is not a drill. I want patrols doubled, perimeters secured, and every rodent within a five-mile radius to know that Huckleberry Hollow Wonderland is under the protection of the finest feline force in New England.
What about the fancy dog? Whiskerface asks, nodding toward Cupcake.
The fancy dog is temporarily allied with our cause, Fish yowls with a sigh. Treat her as you would any distinguished guest.
A distinguished guest who probably has her own personal chef while we hunt for scraps, Shadow mutters, but at least he doesn’t sound actively hostile anymore.
Dismissed! Fish gives a sharp meow, and the cats scatter back into the woods with the efficiency of a well-trained military unit.
Once we’re alone, Cupcake turns to me with an expression that’s equal parts gratitude and something else I can’t quite identify.
Chip, honey, I cannot thank you enough for standing up for me back there, she says, and her voice has taken on a warmth that wasn’t there before. Most folks just see the pretty exterior and assume I’m all fluff and no substance.
Well, you are mostly fluff, I point out helpfully. But that doesn’t mean you can’t have substance, too. I’m mostly fluff, and I’ve got tons of substance. Granted, most of it is food-related, but still.
She laughs, and it sounds like honey drizzled over warm biscuits. You’re quite the charmer, aren’t you? I do appreciate a male who knows how to treat a lady with respect.
Oh, for the love of all that’s sacred, Fish groans. Are we really doing this? Romance in the woods while there’s a murder investigation happening? And have you forgotten about the mouse who’s looking to usurp us as mascots? As if a dozen worldwide theme parks weren’t enough for their kind.
Romance? I blink. Who said anything about romance? I was just being polite. Mama always taught me to be nice to ladies, even if they were a different species—especially when their names were delicious.
As you should, Cupcake is quick to say. Different species never stopped anyone from being friends, she points out with a sly smile. Besides, sugar, I’ve always believed that good manners are attractive in any creature. She gives a little wink and I can feel my whiskers growing hot.
I’ve got excellent manners, I agree. I always say please when I’m begging for treats, and I only knock things off tables when they really deserve it.
Such a gentleman, Cupcake purrs—well, as much as a poodle can purr. Tell me, what does a distinguished cat such as yourself do for entertainment around here?
Mostly I nap in sunbeams and judge my hooman for her poor life choices, and she’s got a lot of them, I admit. Also, I’m working on my memoir. It’s called The Orange Chronicles: A Life Well Fed.
How fascinating! I’d love to hear more about that sometime. She all but nuzzles me with that big, fluffy head of hers.
I’m going to be sick, Fish pretends to gag. This is worse than watching Josie and Detective Dreamboat make googly eyes at each other. Or Bizzy and Jasper snuggling on the sofa for hours on end.
Oh, little Fishy, are you jealous? Cupcake asks with Southern sweetness that could rot teeth. Because if you are, I’m sure there are plenty of handsome tom cats in your little army who’d be happy to show you around. Girl, you are as pretty as a pumpkin in October.
Fish growls. I am not jealous. I am nauseated. There’s a difference.
Fish is just cranky because she hasn’t had her afternoon sardines yet, I’m quick to explain. She tends to get hangry when she misses a snack. And that’s exactly why I don’t dare miss any.
I do not get hangry. I get appropriately frustrated with the declining standards of professional behavior among theme park mascots.
Well, I think you’re both absolutely precious, Cupcake barks with glee.
And Chip, you’re definitely the most gallant cat I’ve ever met.
Most males wouldn’t have the courage to stand up to a whole army for a lady they’d just met.
She bats those big lashes of hers my way, and every inch of my fur tickles.
It wasn’t courage, I correct her. It was basic decency. Plus, I’ve got a soft spot for anyone who’s clearly out of their element. I know what it’s like to be the odd one out.
How so, sugar?
Well, I’m an indoor cat who somehow became the mascot of a theme park. Fish here is borrowed from another family. We’re all just figuring it out as we go along.
That’s very philosophical of you, Cupcake practically mewls. And here I thought you were just another pretty orange face.
Hey! I’ll have you know this face is the result of superior genetics and excellent grooming habits. Also, Josie uses the good brushes on me. Wait… were you just complimenting me?
Can we please return to headquarters before I lose what’s left of my sanity? Fish interrupts. We’ve got a symposium to supervise and a murder to solve.
Of course, Cupcake agrees graciously. But Chip, I do hope we’ll have another chance to chat soon. I find your perspective quite... refreshing. She wags her tail in my face as she says it, and I think I see stars! In the shape of cupcakes, of course.
Anytime, I tell her, because it’s true. She might be fancier than a five-star restaurant, but she’s got spunk underneath all that fluff. Just remember—if anyone gives you trouble around here, you let me know. I’ve got connections.
As we head back toward the pavilion, I can’t help but feel pretty good about myself. I defended a lady’s honor, impressed a sophisticated poodle, and managed not to embarrass myself too badly in the process.
Not bad for an orange cat whose biggest aspiration used to be figuring out how to open the treat cabinet.
Maybe this mascot gig is turning me into a better cat than I thought. I always knew I was irresistible to females across all species.