“What are you doing, fraidy-cat?” Daisy barked.

“Mind your own business!” he growled, “You shouldn’t worry about what I’m doing. Curiosity killed a cat.”

Daisy looked down her nose at him, “Behave yourself! Stealing food is not what earls do!”

She took her little backpack and left, headed straight to the beach.

“As you name the boat, so shall it float!” the cat thought fishing strips of ham out of Dean’s bowl. So he behaved as Fluffy … a scruffy alley cat in search of a meal.

the POWER of the ham thief

Fluffy had spent the early part of that morning under the sofa. Dean’s behavior confirmed his suspicions and fears that he’d known about the stolen ham, anyway.

“There he was! Not a meow!” he whispered to himself and sucked in a harsh, deep breath. He felt a little lightheaded. Dean shuffled across the kitchen. The cat was watching his body language.

“Something’s wrong with him. I must know what’s going on! Out of mere curiosity,” Fluffy said to himself.

He couldn’t wait any longer. He sprang from cover with a question, “Where are you going, Dean?”

“It’s none of your business, Smelly cat.”

“Is it a new insult? One thing has always amazed me. Your brain is so tiny, but it’s filled with thoughts about me. I appreciate that. No offence taken. Where are you going, anyway?”

“Out of my sight! The ham thief can’t be trusted,” the dog exploded a second time.

“The case has become more personal. Will he seek revenge?” Fluffy wondered, “I’ve just wanted to help you.”

“Why? Do I look like I need your help?” Dean snapped at him.

“You look extremely fragile. I feel that you are scared,” the cat muttered, “You desperately want to share your hidden fears with someone.”

“Do I?” the dog looked puzzled.

“Sure, you do. Confess your fears. You’ll feel relieved,” the cunning cat hissed.

“I’m going deep into the woods. There are UNKNOWN BEASTS there. I have a nagging suspicion that they aren’t friendly,” he groaned.

Fluffy thought of the benefits he could gain from the situation.

“Let me guess, you couldn’t have seen them yourself… I'm assuming the involvement of a third party. Daisy! I bet you’ve listened to her shoelace stories about monstrous beasts,” the cat murmured.

“Have you ever come face to face with the beasts in the woods?” the dog asked.

“Sure. I can draw you the beast I saw.”

“It will be very helpful!” Dean brightened instantly.

Fluffy scribbled the image of the beast.

“This one isn’t scary,” the dog said.

“Of course, it isn’t. It’s the tamed beast!”

“Who tamed it?”

The cat felt glorious. That was the question he was waiting for. He came up with a story of Brodie the Brave.

“Let me show you a portrait,” Fluffy said in a low voice, “It is old, torn, faded. But I treasure it.”

“This is my father. His name was Brodie. Once he spent two horrid nights in the woods and survived,” Fluffy said proudly.

“How did he escape from the beasts?” Dean asked.

“He was a strong-willed sorcerer. He never lost courage and hope. He was able to tame the furious beasts.”

“Oh, TAME them?” the dog was bewildered.

“Sure, he could make them do what he wanted,” the cat affirmed.

“Where are the beasts that your father tamed?” Dean asked. He tried to imagine Brodie the Brave surrounded by obedient beasts.

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