“Edna, please.”
“Tell us, Edna, a little bit about Princess here. For example, what’s her favorite activity?”
Edna thought for a moment or two. “She likes to watch me knit.”
Good grief. What could be more boring? I caught a strange look in Pamela Vance’s eyes. For a moment, I thought she was going to laugh out loud, but she did not. Instead she said, “Thank you, Edna,” set Princess back down on the stool, and came to me.
“And now we come to our last contestant, whose name is …” She held out the mic toward Harmony.
“Her name is Queenie,” Harmony said.
“And yours?”
“Harmony,” said Harmony. “Harmony Reddy.”
“Well well,” Pamela Vance said, “almost a found poem.”
I’d heard that before about Harmony’s name, hadn’t understood it then, and didn’t understand it now. From the looks on their faces, the crowd wasn’t getting it, either.
Pamela Vance extended her hand, possibly to check behind one of my ears. Then, suddenly, she stopped. I wondered why. At the same time, I was aware that the fur on my back had risen straight up. And there was my answer. She’d seen the beauty of my fur and had no need for any more investigation, no prodding, no hefting. Was it possible I’d also hissed into the mic? Surely not. All those raised eyebrows in the crowd must have been about something else.
Pamela Vance turned to Harmony. “And what’s Queenie’s favorite activity?”
Harmony looked at me, in fact gazed at me for what seemed like a long time.
Did that seem to annoy Pamela Vance? Frown lines appeared on her forehead. “Surely there’s something Queenie likes to do,” she said.
Harmony nodded. “The thing is, she has two favorite activities. One is daydreaming.”
Pamela Vance’s frown lines deepened. “Daydreaming?”
“She loves to lie in a patch of sun and just let her mind wander.”
“How … interesting,” said Pamela Vance. “And her other favorite activity—if we can call daydreaming an activity—is … ?”
“Hunting,” said Harmony.
“By hunting, you mean she accompanies your father on hunting expeditions?”
Dad was in the picture? Dad hadn’t been around in some time. It all went back to Mom hiring a decorator to spiff up the inn, the decorator’s name being Lilah Fairbanks. Almost from the start, she and Dad had glanced at each other in ways that caught my attention, although no one else’s, as things turned out. Skipping to the end of their little story, I didn’t miss Dad, not one little bit.
“No,” said Harmony. “Queenie hunts by herself. Indoors she goes after mice.”
“And outdoors?”
“Birds.”
“Does she actually … catch any?”
“Oh, yes. Just small ones—cardinals, robins, finches, that sort of thing. We try to stop her, but she’s pretty sneaky and …” Harmony came to a sudden stop, an uh-oh look quickly crossing her face.
All at once it was strangely silent in the tent. Birds are not so easy to catch. I’m sure the audience was aware of that, and thus suitably impressed. Once I’d actually climbed onto an amazingly high branch and taken a rather large bird, possibly a white dove, completely by surprise. You should have seen the look in its … but perhaps a story for later.
Pamela Vance stepped back, giving me a look that seemed quite careful. “Well,” she said. “Well well.” She squared her shoulders and said, “And now I’ll take one last circuit around, and then decide—and what a hard choice!—on our winner and runner-up.” She walked around the stools, eyeing each of my … comrades? Would that be it? I had a warm feeling for all of them, and if not warm, then at least not icy cold. They were getting to hang out with a champion, so this was a lucky day in their lives, even if not quite in the way they were hoping.
Now Pamela Vance was close by, gazing at Princess. At the same time, Edna was gazing at Pamela Vance, her eyes saying, Please please please. I came close to feeling bad for her.
Pamela Vance stepped in front of me and gave me a long look, a look that almost seemed unfriendly, but that was impossible so I ignored it. In fact, I ignored her completely. She sighed, shook her head, and then raised the mic.
“What a difficult decision! I wish there could be two winners. But since there can’t, I now announce that the runner-up in the first annual All-County Feline Beauty Contest is … the adorable Princess! And therefore our winner … is Queenie.”
I would have welcomed a little more excitement in the tone of her voice, but as I heard Mr. Salming say once after a hockey game, “a win is a win.” As for the crowd? All the cheering and clapping anyone could ask for! Did I hear a lone cry, or possibly not quite lone, of “Princess”? Maybe, maybe not, but if so I’m sure it was drowned out by shouts of “QUEENIE! QUEENIE! QUEENIE!”
WAS I LOVING THIS BEAUTY CONTEST or what? Sitting right beside us—us being Bro on a bench seat with me at his feet—was a wonderful family with lots of small kids, all of them out of control. And every single one of those kids was into snacks. They had a big-time love for Cheez-Its, Cheetos, Fritos, Doritos—what great names!—plus burgers, Italian sausages, Polish sausages, and even those corn dogs I’d spotted on the way in. And the very best part? They were messy eaters. Every single one of those out-of-control snack-loving kids was messier than the messiest eater I’d ever seen in my life. It was like they were having their own contest, all about who was the champion of messy eating! There were scraps galore! I’d had a dream like this once, but not as good. Real life was turning out to be better than dreams! This day was turning out nicely, so far.
As for what was going on in that circle of stools out on the floor, I had no clue. But after a while, kind of full, at least for the moment, I took a short break and noticed that a sort of procession had started up, moving from the stools toward this black curtain that hung near the snack bar. This procession was led by the woman with short blond hair and deep red lipstick, who’d just been speaking into the mic, if I’d followed things right, which would have been a happy accident since, as I mentioned, I hadn’t been paying the slightest attention. Then came an old lady carrying a white cat, kind of Queenie’s color, and after that came Harmony carrying Queenie.
“C’mon, Arthur, let’s go,” Bro said.
Go? I was perfectly happy where I was, already feeling not quite so full. In fact, my appetite was starting to sharpen already. I have a great appetite, kind of like one of those champion athletes who doesn’t even know the meaning of quit.
“Arthur?”
I remembered something important: I was on the leash.
Moments later, Bro and I were out on the floor, kind of bringing up the tail end of the procession, although since I have a tail and it’s at the end of me, my tail was actually bringing up the tail end of the procession. Wow! I’d never had a thought like that. It was sort of … funny. Would another funny thought come my way soon? Or ever? I hoped so.
We came to the black curtain. The woman with the deep red lips—Pamela something or other? Had I caught that little snippet of info while hunting a totally uneaten corn dog under a seat? I thought so.
Back to Pamela, now turning to us. “Welcome to our little photo studio,” she said. “And I do mean little. I apologize for the makeshift conditions. But in order to get these pictures taken properly, it’ll have to be cats only.”
“You mean Princess has to go in without me?” said the old lady.
“Don’t worry, Edna,” Pamela said. “She’ll be fine. I’m a cat lover, as I said, and cats can sense it.” She held out her arms, and Edna’s cat—Princess, if I was on top of things—left Edna’s arms and sort of glided into Pamela’s arms, a glide that reminded me of Queenie, although not quite as smooth but much friendlier. Not that there’s anything special about gliding. I’m sure I could glide all over the place if I wanted.
Pamela turned to Harmony, who had Queenie in her arms. “And will the winner pl
ease come forward?”
Harmony shook her head. “I don’t think Queenie will—”
Pamela interrupted. “Oh, I’m sure the champ wouldn’t want to miss out on having her picture on the cover of our special fall issue.”
Harmony looked down at Queenie. It was hard to tell where Queenie was looking, if anywhere. It was one of those times—always annoying—when those glittering eyes were saying something I didn’t understand. But a moment later, the movement so quick I’d missed it, she was in Pamela’s arms. Well, just the one arm, Princess being in the other. Queenie and Princess were about the same size, but Queenie seemed much bigger. Princess’s eyes, golden, yes, but not glittering, shifted back and forth. Queenie’s eyes were motionless, and glittering for sure, glittering like never before.
Pamela turned to the black curtain. “Cuthbert?” she said. “All set in there?”
No answer from the other side of the curtain.
“Cuthbert?”
The curtain opened partway. And there stood the clown. I remembered him, of course, from how he’d bent down and said Hey, little fella, have no fear. The very next second he’d gotten all tangled up in the leash, and stumbled around like a guest we’d had last Christmas who liked Bertha’s rum nogs a little too much—in short, giving me plenty to fear. I didn’t feel the slightest bit pally toward this clown, and his looks were kind of alarming: those enormous floppy shoes and the big red ball on his nose being most alarming of all.
But … but hold on. I’d gotten mixed up. This clown, Cuthbert if I was in the picture, had a green nose, not a red one. Therefore we had two clowns going at the same time? Where was the other one? I got a bit confused. Also, was there something familiar about the scent of the man inside the clown? I knew there was a man in there, on account of the mannish smell, but the hint of cotton candy, mixed in with human male nervousness, made me think I knew him from somewhere. But where? My mind was blank, usually a pleasant feeling, but not now, for some reason. Thoughts of red and green noses got snarled in my mind, and sank slowly away.
Meanwhile Pamela was saying, “All ready for our photo shoot, Cuthbert?”
Cuthbert didn’t answer. Instead he stuck up one of his thumbs, a huge thumb with a bright red nail.
“Not talking today, Cuthbert?”
Cuthbert shook his head. Pamela glanced at us. “Cuthbert has lots of silent days.” She turned to Cuthbert. “What is it today, Cuthbert?” she said. “Cat got your tongue?”
Oh, what a horrible thought! I’d never heard anything more terrifying in my life! Can you imagine? Our eyes happened to meet, mine and Queenie’s. Hers had a thoughtful look I never wanted to see again.
Then came another fright. Cuthbert opened his red-lipped mouth very wide and … and there was no tongue to be seen inside! Did a high-pitched bark of total fear sound out somewhere in the tent, possibly close by? Who could have blamed the barker? I was pretty scared myself. Then, from somewhere out of sight in his mouth, Cuthbert unrolled his tongue and stuck it way way out. Everyone laughed, meaning all the humans—Pamela, Harmony, Bro, and the old lady, called Edna, I believe. What was funny? I was still trying to get the joke when Cuthbert held out a big sort of plastic tray with sides on it, and Pamela set Queenie and Princess inside. Cuthbert stepped back through the opening of the curtain. Inside I glimpsed a camera on a stand, a big light, and a desk with some bottles on top. The curtain closed. Pamela said, “This won’t take long. Why don’t you all hit the snack bar, courtesy of the magazine?” She walked us over to the snack bar and handed out some sort of tickets.
We had some nice snacks at the snack bar. Everyone except for me. Pamela sat at a table some distance away, busy on her phone.
“The Frisbee contest’s coming up soon, Arthur,” Bro said. “And you’ve had more than enough already.”
I had? When was this?
“Isn’t this exciting?” said Edna, dipping a giant pretzel into a cup of mustard. A huge giant pretzel, far too big for any single eater to handle. I kept my eye on it. “I’ve never won anything in my life. I’m so glad Pamela let me know about the contest.”
“She did?” said Harmony.
“After I sent Princess’s picture in to Kitty Kat Korner. That’s a feature in Green Mountain Cat magazine. Pamela emailed me about the contest. So thoughtful of her.” Edna’s eyes got a bit misty. “If only Edgar were here.”
“Who’s Edgar?” Bro said.
“My late husband,” said Edna.
“What’s keeping him?” said Bro.
Edna turned white.
“Bro?” said Harmony. “Late husband means he’s, um, dead.”
“Oh?” said Bro. Then he started turning red—kind of … balancing Edna turning white! What a thought! Did it mean anything at all? I didn’t know. “Um, sorry, ma’am,” Bro said. “I didn’t—”
“That’s okay,” Edna said. “And in fact it’s pretty funny. What’s keeping him?” She started to laugh, and all of a sudden didn’t seem so old and shy. They all laughed together—Edna and the twins. A small but not totally insignificant pretzel morsel flew out of Edna’s mouth. I caught it before it hit the ground.
Pamela looked up from her phone. “What’s so funny?”
“Uh, well,” said Edna, now looking shy again.
“Not so easy to explain,” Harmony said.
Pamela smiled the kind of human smile where the eyes don’t join in. Mom actually has the opposite, where the eyes do all the smiling.
“So glad you’re enjoying yourselves,” she said. She checked her watch. “Cuthbert should be pretty much done.” She headed over to the photo booth and soon came back with Queenie and Princess in her arms. “Here are the stars of the show—Cuthbert says they were perfect! We’ll be sending you framed prints in a week or two. Let’s see. Gold-tipped tail would be Queenie.” She handed Queenie to Harmony. “And lovely pure white tail would be Princess.” She handed Princess to Edna.
“The whole experience seems to have tired them out, poor little things,” Pamela said, and they did look kind of limp to me. “I suggest popping them into their backpacks so they can get started on two very well-deserved naps. The celebrity life takes its toll.”
The two cats got helped into their backpacks, both their tails—Queenie’s gold tipped and Princess’s not—getting stuffed in last. Their eyes closed immediately. The twins said goodbye to Edna and we went outside.
And there was Maxie, looking excited about something. “Where were you guys? I’ve been searching all over.”
“At the cat beauty contest,” Bro said.
“Oh?” said Maxie.
“Don’t you want to know who won?” said Harmony.
“Well, not really. But I assume it’s Queenie or you wouldn’t have asked.”
Harmony stuck out her jaw a bit, a very Bro-like move I’d never seen from her before. “Yes, Queenie won.”
“Funny kind of beauty contest,” Maxie said, “where the winner doesn’t even know she won.”
“What are you talking about?” said Harmony. “Of course she knows.”
“Can’t be sure,” Maxie said. “Maybe if you lend her to me for a day or so I’ll run some tests. But meanwhile, who wants to see something amazing?”
WHAT’S SO AMAZING?” SAID BRO AS we walked along the line of stalls.
“C’mere,” said Maxie. “Check out my pockets.” He pulled his pocket openings wider. I saw some rocks in his pockets. Was that amazing? I was missing something, perhaps not for the first time.
“I didn’t realize you were a sneak, Maxie,” Harmony said.
“What a thing to say!” said Maxie. “I’m a scientist. I investigate.”
“A scientist?” said Harmony. “You just finished sixth grade.”
“A budding scientist,” Maxie said.
“What’s going on?” said Bro.
“Just watch,” Maxie told him.
“Watch what?” said Bro.
Maxie put his finger across his lips. That’s a hu
man signal for … something or other. I was still hoping it would come to me when we arrived at Magical Miranda’s booth. My tail started wagging right away, reminding me how much I liked Magical Miranda. She said I was a good boy. Ol’ Arthur doesn’t forget things like that.
There didn’t seem to be much of a crowd around; in fact, it was just us. Magical Miranda was sitting on a chair reading a book, and not wearing her sparkling crown, but she put it on and rose the moment she saw us.
Her huge dark eyes fastened on me. “Arthur!” she said. “One thing’s for sure—you’ve put on weight since I last saw you!”
“But,” Bro said, “that was like an hour ago. What makes you think he’s put on weight?”
“Hasn’t he been snacking?” said Miranda.
“Kind of, I guess, when I wasn’t looking,” Bro said. “But how did you know?”
Miranda smiled one of those hard-to-understand human smiles that actually doesn’t look very happy. “I know county fairs,” she said.
Harmony laughed. Harmony and Bro both have great laughs, and very much alike, actually kind of over the top. Miranda glanced at Harmony and her smile got a little happier.
“Enough chitchat,” said Maxie. “I’m all set.”
“For what?” Miranda said.
He dug some money out of his pocket and said, “For you to guess my weight. Here’s my three bucks.”
Miranda’s deep dark eyes met Maxie’s eyes, which were not deep and dark, more like pale and sharp. The moment seemed to last a little too long, maybe got uncomfortable. At least for Bro, who looked down and shuffled his feet, a Bro thing I’d seen before, like when Mom asks if he’s done his homework. After the uncomfortable moment passed, Miranda didn’t seem eager to take Maxie’s money. “I—I’m really done for the day.”
“Done for the day?” said Maxie. “It’s not even four o’clock.”
“Well, on a break, then,” she said.
“The show must go on!” Maxie said. “Isn’t that a showbiz rule?”
When Harmony gets angry, which doesn’t happen often, you can feel it building inside her. I felt it now. Her mouth opened like she was about to say something pretty forceful … and then it slowly closed. It turned out I wasn’t the only one who saw this little … how to put it? A thing not happening? That’s as close as I can get. But this thing not happening was also seen by Miranda, whose gaze was on Harmony.
Bark vs. Snark Page 6
