9e945bf3b1d705d5d70aa6e5ed9fa2ba

The white cat burst out of the vent in the Strathmore basement and immediately struck a dramatic pose. That was for the benefit of the rats, who she had been informed would be milling around the area, in desperate need of entertainment. The white cat was never one to disappoint a waiting audience. But her information was apparently wrong. There were no rats to be seen.

“Humph,” the white cat grumbled, smoothing her whiskers and looking around casually in case she’d overlooked someone. But no. The basement was empty. She was glad she hadn’t gone with her original entrance idea. (High stepping and jazz hands.)

Faint noises were coming from the other side of the large metal door. The white cat nodded at it.“Storage room, I presume?”

Chad nodded.“Yup.”

The white cat fluffed up her fur and did some warm-up stretches. Then she turned to Chad.

“Listen, legs. When I give you the cue, open the door as wide as possible. I want to make a spectacular entrance. Really dazzle them.” Once those raccoons got a glimpse of a real celebrity, they’d be putty in her hands. And if they really were a troupe, it was always good to have backup dancers on call. As long as they knew she was the star. “Got it?”

“Sure, sure,” Chad grumbled. “Entrance blah blah. Dazzle dazzle.” He climbed up onto the exit sign and dangled one tentacle in front of the keypad. “But you owe me decent food. None of those treats of yours.”

The white cat snorted.“Trust me, I’ve got a whole seafood platter with your name on it.” She smoothed the fur on her forehead in the shape of a curl and stepped onto the small mat in front of the storage room. Then she put on her best stage face. Her eyes were practically twinkling in the dim light. “And… action!”

Chad started to enter the code into the keypad. But before he could finish, the door abruptly opened, leaving him awkwardly hanging in the doorway.

A small raccoon wearing a sequined tube top stood just inside the door and stared at them, unblinking. Behind her, the room was filled with raccoons. More raccoons than the white cat had ever imagined. Raccoons were clinging to the wire walls of the storage units. They had broken into one and were rummaging around in a suitcase filled with clothes. Three were wearing hats (two baseball, one cowboy), one was playing a ukulele (badly, you could tell he hadn’t had lessons), and one had a thick cashmere scarf wrapped multiple times around his neck (you could hardly see his face, it was wrapped so high).

“Who’s that? What do they want?” A high squeaky voice came from the middle of the suitcase-raccoon pack. (The white cat thought it was the raccoon in the cowboy hat, but she wasn’t sure.)

“What do you want?” the tube-top raccoon asked.

“Um. I…” The white cat swallowed hard. She didn’t usually get stage fright, especially when it was a performance as important as this one. But she hadn’t been prepared for this. Even Chad was speechless. He was still dangling motionless overhead, his eyes wide.

“I’m a celebrity,” she finally said.

“She’s a celebrity,” Chad echoed.

“Oh. Congrats,” the raccoon said. There was an awkward silence as they stared at each other.

A raccoon wearing a snorkel mask pushed up on his forehead appeared in the doorway. Without a word, he reached down and grabbed the small mat under the white cat’s feet and tugged it out from under her. Then, hugging it close to his chest, he ran away into the shadows on his hind legs.

“Nope,” the white cat said, turning around. “Nopey nope nope.” This was not what she’d signed up for. This was not an appreciative audience.

The white cat made sure she kept her steps even and calm until she heard the door shut behind her. Then she shot into the vent at top speed, running so fast that her feet hardly touched the floor. Once she was safely inside, she whirled around, the fur on her back bristling. Chad squelched into the vent after her. (He was not nearly as fast.)

“Give me a rave review, and I’ll double your salary,” she said as Chad pulled himself inside. “I was fabulous. Dazzling performance. You were blown away. Deal?”

Chad took a moment to consider. He could always use some extra shrimp.“Deal.”

“So?” Oscar opened one eye when he heard the white cat creep back in.

“Amateurs,” the white cat said, blowing air out of her nose. “Nothing but a bunch of amateurs. Hardly worth the trip.”

“So are they gone?” Walt asked.

“Are they a troupe?” Polo asked, poking her nose out of her cedar chip pile.

“Do they need therapy?” Butterbean asked hopefully. “I’m still available.”

“No, who knows, and probably,” the white cat said. “And now I’m leaving. They’re hardly worth my time. Although… Chad?” She looked expectantly at Chad, who was halfway to the kitchen sink. “Don’t you have something to add?”

Chad looked around and then nodded.“Right. She was fabulous. Amazing. Eight tentacles up,” he said in a deadpan voice as climbed into the sink and slid down the drain.