“Clutch,” Ragweed said, “really, isn’t there, like, anything to be done about those cats?”
Clutch sighed. “Hey, dude, I’ll tell it like it is. There are us mice, okay, and then there are those cats. We don’t deserve it, but they hate us. Generally speaking, we lose. Totally. Hey, it’s what’s going down. A constant struggle. And that’s the way it’s going to be.”
“But,” Ragweed stammered, “that’s an awful way to live.”
“Hey, dude, you’ve been here what, one day? Two? Right? Me, I’ve spent my whole life looking over both my shoulders for cats. So chill. Know what I’m saying? Keep on living till we die. No other way. It’ll come. And there’s nothing we can do about it. But hey, baby, you live with regrets, you’ll wind up regretting living.”
CHAPTER 12
Silversides
THOUGH SILVERSIDES WAS SATISFIED by the havoc she and Graybar had wreaked on the Cheese Squeeze Club, it left a distinctly bad taste in her mouth. Of course she had bitten down hard on that mouse’s skateboard, the one the golden mouse had rammed into her mouth. That part of the evening had been a painful and humiliating experience.
Graybar had rescued Silversides by carefully working the board out of her mouth. The vice president of F.E.A.R. thought it all very funny. “Are you telling me you let a mouse stick that board into your mouth and you didn’t bite him in half?” he asked, not bothering to conceal his amusement.
“I didn’t see it until it was too late,” Silversides tried to explain. “I was trying to get a green-headed mouse.”
“A green-headed mouse! You should look before you bite,” Graybar suggested with a smirk.
“Easy for you to say,” Silversides retorted.
“Who was the mouse who stuck it to you?” Graybar asked.
“Some golden mouse.”
“Golden mouse? Not the one you missed grabbing this morning, was it?”
Silversides frowned. “Yes,” she said.
“You should have tossed him, when you had the chance, cat,” Graybar said with a laugh. “You better deal with him.”
Silversides, telling herself that she had to stop working with Graybar, said, “Don’t worry, I will.”
The mice had all fled, so there was little for the cats to do other than complete their systematic destruction of the club. This they did with grim satisfaction, making sure that the establishment could never be restored.
“Got any plans for tomorrow?” Graybar asked Silversides before they parted on the street.
“I’ve got some things to do,” Silversides said by way of excusing herself. The truth was, she wanted some time to think.
“Going for the green and gold?” Graybar smirked.
Instead of answering, Silversides turned and, her tail stiff, set off.
“Catch you later,” Graybar cried after her.
Sore-mouthed and weary, ready for sleep, Silversides eased herself up into her home through the back entry flap. But no sooner did she get into the house than she came to a stop. The air was filled with an unusual aroma. It took just moments to figure out what it was: mouse. While she had been out, a mouse had come into the house! The mere thought of it rekindled her anger.
Furious, the cat took a few more deep whiffs. That enabled her to make an even more important discovery: the mouse scent belonged to Blinker!
The meaning was clear. The hated mouse had left the girl’s room. If Blinker was still out and about he would be defenseless. A surge of excitement gripped Silversides. Revenge was at paw. Her exhaustion fell away.
Quickly, quietly, and efficiently, Silversides stalked the house. She examined every room, every hallway, every closet. Gradually the trail took her to the girl’s room. Though the door was open, a check of the room proved fruitless.
Puzzled, Silversides reversed direction, following Blinker’s scent the other way, from the girl’s room to the cat door at the back of the house and then out into the backyard. The evidence was as clear as it was remarkable: Blinker must have left the house.
“The wretched creature has fled,” the cat thought with glee. “Victory is mine!”
Going to her rug bed, Silversides allowed herself a long, luxurious stretch and a flex of claws. Her purr was deep.
The night, after all, had been proven extraordinarily successful. It was so successful the future finally looked bright. Life in the house would return to normal. She and the girl would become friends again. Satisfaction would return. Silversides yawned with pleasure, only to feel the pain in her mouth.
The pain turned Silversides’s thoughts to the golden mouse, the one who had humiliated her twice. Yes, and the green-headed one. If she could get rid of those two, the good old times would be completely restored.
The cat stretched again, yawned, and licked herself until, drowsy with the repetitious monotony of it all, she fell into a deep slumber.
“What have you done with my darling mouse!”
Silversides woke with a start. It was morning. The girl was holding her in midair by the scruff of the neck. Her face was angry and streaked with tears.
“You naughty thing!” the girl shouted at Silversides. “You’ve done something horrible to my sweet Blinker. I know you have. Where is he?” she demanded.
Silversides, dangling helplessly in the girl’s grip, stared with wrath at the human. Human faces were generally repulsive to Silversides—so utterly hairless, so emotional, so without dignity. There was no way the white cat was going to tell the girl anything.
“What did you do?” the girl raged on. “Tell me!”
It was all that Silversides—who wished she had done something to Blinker—could do to keep from hissing at the girl.
“You must find him,” the girl demanded shrilly, “even if it’s only his poor, broken body. Bring him to me. Do you understand, you naughty cat? I want him home dead or alive, or you are not welcome here anymore!
“Oh, you are so stupid!” the girl cried when Silversides refused to respond, not so much as a meow.
“You wretched cat!” The girl burst into tears. “Don’t you dare come back unless you bring Blinker!” She flung Silversides into the backyard
