Return to Howliday Inn by James Howe

Author:James Howe
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Atheneum Books for Young Readers

[ SIX ]

The Secret of Chateau Bow-Wow

MORNING exercise is not my favorite thing in the world. Let me put it another way: My idea of morning exercise is raising one eyelid followed within the hour by the raising of the second eyelid. If I’m feeling really ambitious, I sometimes roll over.

When I raised both eyelids this particular morning, I saw that rolling over wasn’t going to cut the mustard at Chateau Bow-Wow. There in the center of the compound were Daisy and Jill wearing identical warm-up suits. I know they’re called that because Mr. and Mrs. Monroe have similar ones, except that unlike Daisy’s and Jill’s they don’t say WE’RE ANIMALS FOR EXERCISE on the front and A PHYSICALLY FIT PET IS A HAPPY PET On the back.

“Okay, everybody!” Jill shouted, as she bounced up and down. “It’s aerobics time!”

The silence was deafening.

Daisy ran around, throwing open all our cages and crooning, “Out you go, little cuties, nothing like a little workout before breakfast!”

Only Howie exhibited enthusiasm and that’s because he’s a puppy and doesn’t know any better.

Chester and I joined the others in a circle run. I heard him mumbling something about calling his lawyer after he’d called his travel agent just as soon as he got home. At one point, we passed Felony and Miss Demeanor, who clammed up the moment they spotted us. What were those two up to anyway?

Chester was curious too. So he informed me after breakfast (a curious dish that had the consistency of a paste-and-kitty-litter pudding), although not until he’d had the chance to offer commentary on my dining habits.

“How can you eat that slop?” he asked, eyeing my empty bowl. I noticed he hadn’t touched his.

“I pretended it was a hot fudge sundae,” I said, a hair defensively. “Don’t you ever use your imagination?” I realized the moment these words left my mouth that asking this of Chester was a little like asking a dancer if he ever used his feet.

Chester rolled his eyes and sighed.

“If I may change the subject,” he began.

“You brought up breakfast,” I said.

“Nice turn of phrase, Harold.” Clearing his throat, he went on, “Have you noticed anything odd about those two cats?” He indicated Felony and Miss Demeanor, who were stretched out in a patch of sun in front of their bungalows. Felony was twitching her head this way and that, either trying to keep up with a fly or auditioning for the part of Robocat. Miss Demeanor lay flat on her stomach like an imitation bear rug. Her head bobbed up and down to the rhythm of her chewing.

“No,” I said, “they seem like normal cats to me.”

“They are definitely up to something,” Chester said. “I wonder if they have something to do with the secret of Chateau Bow-Wow. I know one way for us to find out.”

“What’s that?”

“You.”

“Excuse me?”

“I want you to pal around with them, Harold. When you’re not busy digging our tunnel to freedom, that is.”

I started to protest, but Chester was already way ahead of me.

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