“Chateau Bow-Wow?”
“Chateau Bow-Wow.”
Chester’s face appeared in the window. His eyes were gleaming.
“What’s the problem?” I asked.
“Oh, there’s no problem, Harold. No problem at all. Just because I’m being forced to spend a week of my life in a place obviously run by dog chauvinists who are totally insensitive to my feline feelings! Why should that bother me? No, I don’t have a problem, Harold. It’s the rest of the world who have the problems!”
“Gee, you know, Chester,” I said to him, “you look just like a guest on a talk show.”
“Harold, have you heard one word I’ve said?”
“Chester, could you pretend you’re on a talk show? You know—just say, ‘Gee, it’s swell to be here today, Merv,’ or ‘Well, you know, Mike, it’s funny you should ask about that …’ Okay, Chester? Huh? Sing ‘Feelings,’ okay? Chester? Chester?”
Chester glared at me and dropped out of sight. I heard him muttering something about dogs, but I couldn’t understand what he was saying. I stopped trying after the Monroes had gotten into the car and I noticed we were pulling out of the driveway.
There was a rumble of thunder in the distance as the car went over a bump and my stomach lurched. Why, I asked myself, had I eaten that chocolate cupcake? I closed my eyes and gritted my teeth.
Toby and Pete were fighting about who had the best window. Mrs. Monroe was trying to quiet them down, at the same time pointing out to Mr. Monroe that he had just taken a wrong turn. Chester, meanwhile, was grumbling and hissing inside his carrier. “Mark my words, Harold,” I heard him say at one point, “there’s trouble ahead. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
As I was thinking back on the feelings of peace and contentment with which I’d started the day, Mr. Monroe turned up the volume on the radio. “… so the outlook for the rest of the week,” the announcer was saying, “is heavy rain and thunderstorms.”
Everyone groaned. The car hit another bump, and my stomach began to feel like a washing machine on the spin cycle. This adventure, I thought, may be terrific for my soul, but it’s going to wreak havoc on my digestive system.
Chapter 2 - Welcome to Howliday Inn
THERE was something about Chateau Bow-Wow that made me uncomfortable from the moment I saw it. Sitting alone on the top of a hill, it inspired a feeling of desolation. Of course, the bumpy ride up the long, winding country road that led to it inspired a feeling of upset tummy, but that’s another story.
“Where are we?” I asked in a hushed whisper. I had never seen this part of town before.
“No man’s land,” Chester growled reassuringly from the bottom of his box.
A second low rumble of thunder resounded in the distance, and then as we pulled into the driveway, I became aware of another sound.
“Do you hear all that barking?” I asked Chester. A chill went through me.
Together, we listened for a moment. Then Chester spoke. “No doubt the victims of some fiendish laboratory experiment,” he said.
I gulped.
“Well, this is the place,” Mr. Monroe called back cheerily from the front seat as he brought the car to a halt. “You two stay put. We’ll be right back.” And all the Monroes went off through a door marked “Office” to do whatever it is people do in offices.
Not to mince words, I was petrified. Where were the Monroes leaving us, anyway? Boy, I thought, you trust some people, you give them the best years of your life, and what does it get you? Abandonment and despair. A fine kettle of fish, that’s what I had to say.
I looked around after a moment. The place didn’t seem quite so bad close up. I suppose it was the sign that helped most. It was on the gate of a wall behind the house, and when I saw it, I began to feel better. It read:
CHATEAU BOW-WOW
A Special Boarding House
For Special Cats and Dogs
“Look, Chester,” I said to the box sitting beside me, “there’s a sign on the gate over there. You know what it says?”
“I give up,” Chester replied. “ ‘Abandon All Hope Ye Who Enter Here’?”
I squinted my eyes to see if I could make out any fine print. “No,” I answered after looking carefully, “but it says we’re special.”
“Hmmph,” Chester grunted.
“And here’s something you’ll appreciate,” I added, hoping this might cheer him up a little, “it also says ‘cats and dogs.’ You see, this place is for cats, too. And the sign even puts cats first. Isn’t that nice, Chester?”
Chester raised his head to window-level and looked out at the sign. He didn’t change his grumpy expression a bit as he said to me, “They probably did it alphabetically.” And he dropped out of sight again.
Just then the front door of the office opened and Toby came running out. “Here they are,” he called to the strange-looking chap who loped along slowly behind him. This fellow, whoever he was, was older than Toby and Pete but not as old as Mr. and Mrs. Monroe. Having seen some of Mr. Monroe’s college students when they’d come to the house to beg for mercy, I estimated that this new chap was roughly their age. He had a shag of brown hair that kept falling into his eyes and a T-shirt that spilled out over the top of his pants. His sneakers were untied, and as he was coming toward us, he stepped on one of the laces and almost fell on his face.
Toby opened Chester’s carrier and pulled the reluctant cat out. Chester hung from Toby’s arms like Spanish moss and wore an expression that would have soured milk chocolate.
“This is Chester,” Toby said, by way of introduction. “Chester, this is Harrison.”
Chester turned to me with a smirk. “What am I supposed to do now?” he asked. “Curtsy?”
Harrison, I thought. What a weird name for a person.
“Hey there, kitty,” Harrison said, instantly not endearing himself to Chester.
“And this,” Toby went on, “is Harold.”
“Wow,” Harrison said. “What a weird name for a dog.”
I looked at Harrison. Harrison looked at me. I thought to myself, this Harrison fellow really has a knack for putting the wrong foot forward.
“Well,” Harrison said, “you guys are the last of the arrivals for this week. Now we’ve got a full house.”
The door to the office popped open, and a girl with red hair and a lot of freckles stuck her head out. She seemed to be about the same age as Harrison, but she looked more tucked in.
“Harrison,” she called, “do you know where Chester’s file is? Dr. Greenbriar wants to look at it while the Monroes are here, and I can’t find it anywhere.”
“But you were looking at it this morning, Jill,” Harrison answered.
“I know, I know,” the girl named Jill said, shaking her head. “I just can’t remember where I put it. I was hoping you’d seen it.”
Harrison shrugged his shoulders and smiled at Jill. “Wish I could help you out,” he said, “but I don’t pay much attention to the files. That’s your territory.”
Jill sighed. “I don’t know what’s the matter with me lately. I’m so tired from all this work I can’t remember where I put anything anymore.”
“I guess old age is setting in,” Harrison said with a laugh.
“Ha ha,” Jill answered without one. And she went back inside, letting the door slam behind her.
Chester gave me a look that said he was clearly unimpressed with the staff.
The door opened a third time, and Dr. Greenbriar stepped outside with the rest of the Monroes. I became nervous at once. There’s nothing like the sight of a white jacket with creepy little stains all over the front of it to get the old heart pumping.
Dr. Greenbriar walked in our direction, his movements steady and unwavering. The light reflected strangely off his glasses so that it was hard to see what was going on under his thick, bushy eyebrows. When he spoke, his words came as slowly and evenly as his steps.