Ronday-Vu wift Perro Y Gatto

Mom Says:

Octavian followed the waiter through a long pair of red curtains, flicking his tail nonchalantly. In the candle-lit room beyond, a biggish black dog, with a white stripe from his forehead all the way down his belly, lay asleep in front of an ornery-looking black cat with green, skeptical eyes.

“Bon soir,” said Octavian politely.

“Watchu want?” asked the cat. “Yu Englishman? Americano?”

“Yes,” Octavian said. “I wuz sent to halp yu wift yer forrin doggee frend.”

“Mai onlee doggee frend is rigt heeer, Perro, mi amigo. I don’t noe what yu are talking about.”

“Huh. Wull, kin I joins yu? I cud yooz a dringk rigt about now.” (This was a phrase he had learned from Jimbond, who said it could be generally useful.)

The strange cat blinked. “Hop up,” he said. With a flick of his tail, he summoned the waiter. “A dringk fer mai frend heer, Javier.”

Octavian thought fast. He only actually knew the name of one drink that wasn’t beer, and he sensed that this kittee was not a beer-guzzlin’ good-ol-kittee. So he said, “I’ll have a Catnip Royale, stirrd, not shaykin. Kthx.” And he jumpd up to the cushion across from the one PyG occupied.

The strange cat purred deeply. “So yu’r English. Thoz Americanoz dringk nothing but the cervesa, the beer. So yu are not CIA.” He huffed in disapproval and the purr stopped short.

Octavian said, “I am 100 percent Merikan, but a edukayshun isn’t evr finisht unless yu studdeez in anothr countree. I’m in the Innerspeeseez Divizhun. We’re…speshul.”

The cat’s purr began again and grew loud.

Heartened, Octavian said, “I unnerstan that yu an yer partner are ontreprenoorz.”

“Huh,” said Gatto. “That is yor capeetaleezmo speeking. We are helping peeplez. We are errrning ourrr subseestenz. Eez not what I theenk yu wud call the profeetz, not egzaklee. Mmm?”

“Er.” Octavian opened his eyes wide and then squinted. The farther he traveled, the stranger the world became. So, he thought, what if there were peeples who wanted something less countable than money-profits? What if, just maybe, their main priority was to help peeples (of whichever sort)? It seemed unlikely to him, but as he thought about it more, it occurred to him that whether that was reellee what they wanted, it was certainly what they seemed to think they wanted, and that might be useful enough, for his purposes. (“Hah!” he thought. “I’m sinnikul now, jus like Jimbond!!!”)

He said, “So whu is it yu’r tryin to halp? The hoomin priznrz? That Rushin doggee? Somboddee else? The Merikans wift the CIA?”

The Spanish cat blinked very slowly, as if considering. Then he looked away. “O, look,” he said. “Heer comz yer drink, Senor.”