Case of the Missing Guinea Pig

The Case of the Missing Guinea Pig

Night fell upon the little cottage a couple miles from town where a guinea pig whose name was Pork Chop lived. She was a happy and busy little creature romping around her white metal cage, scurrying for hay or slices of orange without a care in the world. Well, except for the cats that also made the cottage their home.
There were two indoor cats by the names of Darla and Marbles.  Darla was a vain white Persian. All that mattered to her was her comfort and beauty. Marbles, a grey and white cat, was known for his intellect.  In fact, he was the master mind behind the mischief soon to be carried out.

At the bottom of the back door to the cottage was a little kitty door specially placed there for Darla and Marbles to get out when they pleased. However, when the night came, three other cats used the door to get in. There was the orange tabby Scrappy, the leader; rough around the edges but strong and had good aim. Mocha, who was four times the weight she should be and obsessed with food, was perhaps the most excited about the coming ordeals. And last was Boomer, who was actually a dog in physical form but no matter how much the others tried to tell him, he believed he was a cat. The others accepted and kept him because he was highly talented and resourceful when it came to getting into things a cat--or dog--shouldn’t.
         
All five cats were in the back room, far away from Pork Chop and the family parrot, Salty, who perched on a cage in the living room. Tonight, the cats were going through their plans for the next night, making sure everything was ready. This time, they needed to make sure everything would go right, for this wasn’t their first attempt. They were plotting the murder of Pork Chop.
         
“We split her up five ways, you see,” Scrappy told the group.  “Five equal parts.”
         
“I want the rump,” Mocha said. “That’s where the tastiest piece is.”

         “That’s the last thing you need, dear,” Darla chimed in. “That’s where all the fat is and it wouldn’t do anything to your shape…if you had any.”

         Mocha hissed but Scrappy cut in.

         “Don’t start another catfight. We failed last time because you two couldn’t keep your claws to yourselves.  Marbles, run over the plan again. I don’t want to find that it’s defected this time,” said Scrappy.

         “The plan is ultimately flawless, friend. I cannot conceive a possible way we can fail,” Marbles said.

         “You better be right. Because if this turns sour, I’ll…”

         “I can assure you it won’t,” Marbles said.

         Scrappy then rounded on Boomer who was quite a sight as he tried to bathe himself like a cat but wasn’t quite flexible enough to reach. “Boomer,” Scrappy said. Boomer lost balance and toppled out of his pose. “Have you got everything you need for the cage?”

         “I sure do, boss.” Boomer said in his panting and raspy voice picking himself back up.

         “Good. Tomorrow night we meet at the same time, same place. We execute the plan and then we feast!” The three strays then parted ways. Mocha lingered a little after to take a lasting look at Pork Chop first. Darla and Marbles went to their respective beds to dream of the dinner they would indulge in the following night.

         The sun flooded the windows early that next morning, waking up Darla and Marbles. Darla stretched and Marbles yawned and prepared to start the morning routine which was to lazily make their way to their food dishes where they expected warm milk and a can of Fancy Feast to be there waiting. They would also make their usual hungry look and growl at Pork Chop on their way. For even though they loved their soft cat food, nothing could compare to that live guinea pig.

         Today, however, this routine was interrupted by an unpleasant surprise. When they went to give their hungry looks to Pork Chop, they found that there was no guinea pig to look at. Instead, all there was, was a half-eaten apple core and a cage door left ajar.

         Panic enveloped the two cats as they spent the rest of the day looking in every corner and cabinet to find the guinea pig; but to no avail. Their dinner was missing.

         That night, chaos ensued when all the cats got together.  They met in the living room where Salty, the parrot, perched.

         “There must be a reasonable explanation. Perhaps she took a trip to the vet,” Marbles suggested.

         “Don’t be silly Marbles, She wasn’t sick,” Darla said.

         “Maybe she knew something was up and figured out how to escape,” Mocha said.

         “No, no we always kept our meetings away from her. I made sure she could not possibly hear us,” explained Marbles.

         Salty made a noise. All the cats looked at him.

         “Cat stolen, cat stolen,” he said.

         “Stupid bird, we’re all here. No cat got stolen,” Boomer said. “Right?” He started to count the cats.

         “No dummy,” Scrappy said. “The parrot’s saying that a cat stole the guinea pig. That must mean that one of us has taken the rodent for themselves. Isn’t that right, parrot?”

         “Cat stolen, cat stolen,” the parrot repeated.

         “Is that all you say?” Scrappy asked.

         “Cat stolen, cat stolen.”

         “Boomer’s right,” Mocha said. She looked at the bird and licked her chops. “He’s just a stupid bird.  We should eat him.”

         “I’m afraid that would be rather foolish, Mocha,” Marbles said. “If we fail in the attempt, he’ll talk.”

         “Scrappy darling, are you saying that Pork Chop has already been eaten by one of us?” Darla asked.

         “Yes, and the culprit better speak up now.” Scrappy said, starring everyone else down fiercely. All the other cats took a step back.

         “But how could that be?” Darla asked. “Who would ever steal from me? Everyone knows I need my live meat to keep my fur lustrous and strong.”

         “No one cares about your fur, Darla,” Mocha said.

         “Is that a confession?” Darla snapped.

         “What? No!” Mocha said a little apprehensively. “I…I mean…of course not. Why would I do something like that?”

         “You are a likely candidate, my good lady.” Marbles said. “Your eating methods suggest that you may have given into excessive hunger last night as you were pondering our plans for the capture. Perhaps splitting her up five ways was too painful for you?”

         “I was outside all night. Let’s not forget who was actually inside with her,” Mocha said staring down Darla and Marbles.

         “Scrappy.”

         Everyone turned to look at the parrot.

         “Scrappy.” He repeated

         Everyone turned to look at Scrappy.

         “What?” Scrappy demanded of the parrot.

         “Cat stolen.”

         “You stole Pork Chop!” Darla accused.

         “The bird’s crazy! Ask Boomer and Mocha. I was asleep in the alley all
last night.”

         “Boomer and I were sleeping too. How do we know you didn’t sneak off?” Mocha asked, relived that the pressure was off of her.

         “You’re not turning your back on me. Are you?” Scrappy asked.

         “I’m just saying that I didn’t keep a watch on you all last night.” said Mocha.

         “Scrappy.” The parrot repeated.

         “Stop saying that!” Scrappy yelled. “He…he’s saying scampi, not Scrappy. He must be hungry.”

         “What’s scampi?” Boomer asked.

         “Scampi is a type of food originating in Italy,” Marbles said.
“And Parrots don’t eat it,” Darla said.

         “And we’re all hungry,” Mocha complained.

         “Except for you,” Marbles said. All the cats were closing in toward Scrappy. Scrappy backed up.

         “I…I swear I didn’t do it.  Why would I?”

         “You wanted the tasty guinea pig all for yourself,” Mocha said.

         “I didn’t.”

         “Scrappy,” cried the parrot.

         The cats closed in on him, backing Scrappy into a corner. Scrappy arched up and hissed but they kept coming closer and closer.  Suddenly when the cats were face to face with him, Scrappy jumped over their heads and ran into the next room and out of sight.

         “After him!” Darla yelled.  The cats scattered running in every room. 

         Scrappy had to find a place to hide, and quick! He ran to the back door to see if he could make a break for it but something else grabbed his attention.  It was a piece of cat nip.

Scrappy knew he shouldn’t; he needed to stay level in the head. But on the other hand he only had nine lives.  So he went to the cat nip and sniffed it. Immediately a calming, warming sensation swept over him. He rolled around in the cat nip, shedding all over it. He then noticed that there was more cat nip leading a trail to the outside. He followed the trail, eating each piece as he went. Once he was outside, he noticed the trail went off the property and around the corner. He was in heaven. How could any cat resist? So Scrappy ate the cat nip and followed the trail in a happy and hazy daze forgetting all about Pork Chop and the others.

         Back in the house Darla, Boomer and Marbles met in the back room.

         “He ran away. That just proves he’s guilty, doesn’t it?” Darla said.

         “Let’s not jump to conclusions to hastily.  There’s something strange about this whole thing,” Marbles said.

         “What?” Boomer asked.

         “There seems to have been a struggle here.” Marbles walked to the spot on the floor where Scrappy’s orange hair and a half eaten piece of cat nip lay.

         “He’s been drugged,” Marbles said. “And look, he’s been dragged off.” He pointed to where a trail of orange fur led to the outside. 

         “Where’s Mocha?” Darla asked.

         At that moment a loud crash was heard from the living room.  The three cats ran in there to see that Salty’s cage was open and tipped over and Mocha was chasing the bird around the room.

         “Mocha darling, what are you doing?” Darla asked.

         Mocha flipped around and that gave Salty the opportunity for escape. He flew out an open window.

         “Way to go.  You let my dinner escape!” Mocha said.

         “Your dinner?”

         “Well, if I’m not having guinea pig tonight then I might as well have bird!”

         “Mocha, I told you that the parrot talks,” Marbles said and then looked at
mocha suspiciously. “Or is that why you wanted him?”

         “I’m just hungry; that’s all,” Mocha said.

         “What did you do to Scrappy?” Boomer asked.

         “Scrappy?”

         “We saw his fur on the floor by cat nip. One of us had to have dragged him off drunk. I think Mocha was the one who attacked him. The parrot saw and so Mocha decided to try and dispose of the evidence” Marbles said.

         “Why would I attack Scrappy?”

         “Because he found out you took the guinea pig. You just got a little too hungry last night, didn’t you?” Darla asked.

         “I couldn’t have. I don’t even know how to open the cage. But Boomer knows how to!”

         Everyone looked at Boomer.

         “She’s right, you do know how to open Pork Chop’s cage, Boomer,” Darla said.

         “Yeah, so?”

         “It was you who took the guinea pig then” Darla said.

         Marbles laughed. “I don’t think Boomer has what it takes upstairs to come up with a scheme, if you know what I mean.”

         “I never go upstairs,” Boomer said.

         “So, you’re saying that it takes someone with brains to sneak a guinea pig? Someone like yourself?” Mocha asked.

         “I don’t believe I said anything like that!”

         “Marbles, I thought higher of you. What did you do? Eat her last night while I was asleep?”

         “Darla, it seems to me that you are always so quick to accuse. Is it because you want to push the blame on everyone else, so no one suspects you?”

         “How dare you accuse me of such things!”

         “You had easy access to Pork Chop last night.”

         “So did you.”

         “Uh, guys?” Mocha interrupted but was ignored.

         “For all our life together you have always been self-centered.  Now that I
think of it, it would be unlike you not to take the guinea pig for yourself,” Marbles said.

         “Guys!?”

         “What?” Both Darla and Marbles yelled.

         “Where’s Boomer?”

Boomer was no where in sight.

“Now Boomer’s gone too!” Mocha said.

“Maybe he wandered off.” Marbles said.

Marbles was right. Boomer did just wander off.  He looked out the window while Darla and Marbles had been fighting and noticed that the gate to the neighbor’s yard was wide open. Thinking he might find Scrappy there, he left the three cats to their quarrel and went outside and walked toward the gate. When he got there however, he found himself face to face with Sally, the neighbor’s beautiful and blond-long haired dog. 

Fear immediately struck Boomer. He wanted to run away, but his body wouldn’t respond.  No matter how he tried, his legs were paralyzed to the spot. He expected Sally to start growling and barking and pounding on him like she did to the other cats, but to Boomer’s great surprise, she did quite the opposite.

“Well, well what have we here?” She started. Before Boomer could respond Sally started sniffing him all around and then leaned against him “What a mighty handsome hunk you are.”

“I…uh…you think I’m handsome?” Boomer asked.

“Don’t sound so surprised. What is a fine dog like you doing around here?”

Boomer gave Sally a questionable look. “You must be mistaken, I’m no dog. I’m a—”

“Well sure you are.  You’re more dog than any of the other mutts around here. 
Why don’t you and I take a stroll down the park? There are all kinds of squirrels to chase.”

“I…I need to get back. My friends will be waiting for me.”

Sally rubbed up against Boomer and batted her bright green eyes. Her soft fur, pointed nose and oddly familiar smell made Boomer feel all funny inside. “Come on, love. Your friends can wait.”

“Oh…Okay.” So off the two went, Boomer was about to find a side of him he never noticed before.

“You’re awfully nice, for being a dog.” He told her as they walked.

Back at the house the three cats searched for both Scrappy and Boomer but could not find them. Finally, Darla and Marbles met in the living room.

“Where’s Mocha?” Darla asked.

They looked around to find Mocha missing as well

“Not her too!” Marbles sighed.

“All three outside cats are gone!”

“So it’s one of us who stole the pig. I knew it.” Darla said in an accusing tone.

“Yes, so it is. I thought better of you, Darla.”

“Oh no, don’t try pulling that on me. I know I didn’t take her.”

“Well, I know I didn’t take her!”

“What did you do with Pork Chop? Eat her for your self?” Darla asked.

“I think the question is what did you do to her?” Marbles replied

“You’re not going to out smart me! I am never taking my eyes off you.”

“Me either!”

So the two cats circled each other, starring the other down, knowing that any
second the other would pounce or scratch or run. Darla wasn’t going to be beat to it.  She pounced at Marbles but missed. She then chased him all around the house. Finally, Marbles made an escape through the kitty door, but Darla immediately followed and there they went, chasing each other never to be seen again.

The house stood silent for a few moments until the kitty door started to move and a second later Mocha returned into the house. Once she got inside she lifted the kitty door and held it while Pork Chop clambered through.

“And that’s how you get rid of a houseful of cats.” Mocha said as they walked together toward the cage. “You gotta play to their weaknesses. Scrappy with catnip, Boomer with Sally who I’ve noticed has been eyeing him for some time now and Darla and Marbles with each other. Piece of cake. speaking of which, I wonder if there is any in the kitchen.”

“Wow that’s amazing!” Pork Chop said squeekily. “Thanks for getting rid of them for me.”

“It was no trouble, friend.”

“Do you think Salty will come back?”

“I think so. But I couldn’t let him spoil everything.  Now how would you like to share a nice dish of fancy feast with me?”

“I think I’m going to be fine with my orange.”

Mocha shrugged. “Suit yourself.” And she went to Darla and Marbles food dishes and ate a nice dinner, content that her little friend was at last safe from harm.