Dating : Secret Agent Cat

“Good morning Agent Orange.” That’s Mommy. She runs the agency. “We’ve got a new assignment for you.”

“Testing out the new cat treats for poison?” I asked hopefully.

Mommy rolled her hazel eyes, “You’ve been here for years and not once has anyone asked you to test out the cat treats.”

“So it’s about time then.” I asked hopefully.

“Agent Orange.” Mommy said my code name with a slightly irritated tone. My antics only go so far before she puts her foot down.

“Right…so what am I up to today?” I said before grooming my bright orange fur. I mean as a cat I’m required to maintain at least some element of disinterest. It’s in the kitty rulebook right next to the timing and placement of your hairballs to get the most dramatic affect.

“We’ve got a report that the Free Animal Revolutionary Tactical Squadron has planted a chemical weapon in a litter box in Buckingham Palace.” Mommy gave me a moment to take in the seriousness of the situation. The Free Animal Revolutionary Tactical Squad, or FARTS for short, are much deadlier than their silly name suggests. Almost every terrorist organization in the world either fully embraces FARTS as a partner, gets trained by FARTS, or they are secretly controlled by FARTS. There are FARTS even in most governments and so we’ve been tasked with saving the world from FARTS, and let me tell you…sometimes this job really stinks.

I stretched and sighed, “So Buckingham Palace is full of FARTS and you need me to go save the day. Seems simple enough. It hardly seems worth climbing down from the cat tree for. Couldn’t you send one of the others?”

Mommy shook her head, “Most of the others are at the Marianas Trench saving the world from some rogue dolphins that created another Al Gore robot army. I’d send Nala, but she’s banned from England.

“I still say it was Daddy’s fault for watching Monty Python on the plane with her. She’s not right in the head as it is, and then he got her all hopped up on catnip while they watched a marathon of Monty Python. It was a recipe for disaster.” Even now the YouTube videos of Daddy and Nala rolling round covered in ketchup for fake blood as they each tried to one up one another for who could do the most over the top Black Knight still give me the chills. I mean I love them both, but I live with those two idiots. The weird thing is that Nala is on catnip, but what’s Daddy’s excuse?

Mommy pet me on the head and gave her orders,“So you’ll go, but we need this to be kept secret. We can’t risk a panic. So sneak into the palace, neutralize the threat, and if possible capture the enemy combatants.”

“You want me to catch FARTS?” I snickered.

“Get to work Agent Orange.” Mommy groaned.

The flight was uneventful. As a cat I don’t have to do all that silly take off your belt and shoes stuff that you humans do. To be honest, as long as terrorists don’t figure out how to hide explosives in a gerbil I figure most of us pets should be able to travel as we please. Of course I do remember hearing about a gas attack in a Subway involving a Great Dane, but in the end it just turned out that he’d eaten a three day old burrito with extra sour cream. The crippled kid that was riding right behind the Great Dane never did regain his sense of smell, but miraculously he not only got to his feet…he ran upwind to escape the stench, and crashed face first into a ninety-eight year old grandmother who, thinking that she was being robbed, began beating the kid with her cane. So while he can walk, he has no sense of smell, and his eyes are permanently crossed. Thank God for video because on bad days I put that video on for Daddy to watch and he laughs himself silly. Some days I think there’s something wrong with him.

It was early in the morning when I arrived. I immediately went to the palace and met my contact Sergio. He was a particularly fat hamster, and his attitude did not improve my impression of him. What was even worse was that Sergio demanded we speak in French, but he barely spoke any, and so I spent half my time trying to understand the hodge podge of words that spewed out Sergio’s carrot hole.

“We go to palace, and you’ll find the tuba on the south side lower than the other tubas. Use the banana to swim over the cheese.” Sergio said. Eventually I understood that he wanted me to go to the south wall because it’s lower than the other walls. Then I need to use the grappling hook to climb over the top.

“Thanks for all your help.” I smiled as I spoke perfect french.

“My mother is a saint!” Sergio growled in English. The fat little hamster was really pushing his luck. If I wasn’t supposed to be on my best behavior Sergio would be dinner faster than you can say puff pastry. As it was I just shook my head and walked off to the south wall.

“Stupid smelly cat! Oh well…accidents happen..” Sergio laughed under his breath, and all I could think was that the world would be a better place if Sergio’s mother had just eaten him when she had the chance. Something about that hamster’s behavior had me on edge.

Making my way to the south wall wasn’t easy. I’d barely gone a hundred feet when I picked up a tail. Well to be honest I picked up three tails, and those tails belonged to the dreaded three FARTS known as The Suicide Squirrels. The three terrors specialize in making deaths look like suicides. If they’re here already then it’s worse than we thought. Rather than head to the south wall I circle back towards where I left Sergio. The little rat of a hamster was nowhere to be found. That’s when it made sense. The hamster had helped to set me up. Sergio must have tipped off the The Suicide Squirrels. As long as I stayed out in the open they’d have a hard time getting rid of me.

I padded my way across the street to a diner. Humans can’t resist sad kitty eyes, and so within a few minutes I had an old woman sharing her tuna sandwich with me. While I ate I also searched for the squirrels. They’d be nearby, but they weren’t my biggest problem right now. With Sergio compromised I’d need to find an all new point of entry. I couldn’t count on anything Sergio had said to be even slightly reliable. So I had to find my way in without the guards spotting me, sneak through Buckingham Palace, save the day, and then somehow escape without those squirrels catching me. Well if this job was easy then dogs would do it.

My best chance was to sneak in during the changing of the guard. It’s mostly for show to entertain the tourists. That didn’t leave me with much time.

Before I made my entry I’d need to get rid of the squirrels. That alone would be next to impossible on such a short time frame. If I had someone I could trust I’d call in help. Unfortunately Sergio was my best option and…and…maybe I could use him to my advantage. I turned and ran into the diner. I scrambled into the kitchen and out the back door into the alley. The smell of rotten food and homeless humans filled the air. I jumped behind one of those giant steel garbage bins just in time to hear The Suicide Squirrels scramble out the door behind me. I was hidden well enough that they couldn’t see me, and the stench of rotten food was just enough to hide me from their noses. The problem now was how to get rid of these little fluffy brown nutjobs. I tucked myself into the shadow of the garbage bin and tapped my collar. Contacts in my eyes let me see a contact list, and within a few moments I’d sent off a message to Sergio.

A loud ding came from one of the squirrels and he stopped jittering around long enough to read his message. Then a snarl crept across his toothy face, “Guys! The target is headed for pickup.Our contact says the cat is going to meet with him near the Queen Victoria memorial in one hour.”

The second squirrel rubbed his paws and grinned, “Perfect. It’s wide open and there’s nowhere for him to hide. We might have to scrap the plan to make it look like an accident.”

The third, and most mangy of the three, shook his head, “We’ll just have to get that stupid hamster to help us. Text him back and have him ready to chase after us when he sees us. The cat will have to follow to protect his contact, and once they reach the street we’ll just have to make sure that the cat meets some of the local drivers.”

All three squirrels giggled and skittered off. My next task was to get Mommy to wire transfer me some cash for the nearest bakery. The clock was ticking and I had new friends to make. I had to keep an eye out for any other potential FARTS while I ran around. On top of it all I had to do my best to hide from all the cameras. Who knew who could be watching those cameras and the last thing I needed were some FARTS giving my location away. Two hundred dollars can buy a lot of bread, and with an extra large tip I had one of the employees deliver my bribe to a nearby park. When I got there the local pigeons were already swarming around the baker that helped me.

“Who’s in charge around here?” I asked.

“What’s it to you furball?” A pigeon waddled his way to me. The hostility was expected. Pigeons aren’t known for being friendly to anyone.The bird brains are always in it for themselves.

“Well, I was hoping to make a deal. I heard this was where I could find some tough birds for a job, but if you’re not interested I can take this bread elsewhere.” I turned and gave a swish of my tail as I started to walk away. Always play it cool with pigeons.

“Hey! Hey! I didn’t say we weren’t interested. Don’t be like that.” The bread already had the pigeon in charge ready to agree to anything I asked. Pigeons would sell their own mothers for half a stale cracker.

I told him the plan, and told him the bread I bought was just a down payment. They’d get another load of bread just like this after they job was finished. I gave them the time, and then had to scramble to get ready for the next part of the plan. On the way back to Queen Victoria’s memorial I hit every chimney on the way. By the time I arrived I was jet black and furry. Unfortunately I’d need a bath later, but that was a problem for then, and this was now.

I spotted Sergio first. I padded a little ways closer. I tried to look like I was hiding, but I still wanted them to see me. When that little hamster Sergio finally saw me it was all I could do to keep from grinning. I watched him signal to the squirrels. He thought I didn’t see, but it was impossible to miss.I’d almost felt sorry for the wannabe rat until he began directing the squirrels to me. It was right then that my plan went into action. I gave Sergio a wave and a big toothed grin. Right then hundreds of pigeons came from everywhere. Alfred Hitchcock, a very fat man, once made a movie starring hundreds and maybe even thousands of birds. It became a legendary horror film. Well what I was seeing was even more terrifying. Not only were there hundreds of pigeons flying at three squirrel assassins and one idiot hamster, but these pigeons were all humming Ride of the Valkyries. For the record they all had perfect pitch.

The hamster was the first to run…if you can call it running. As fat as he was it looked like a fuzzy inchworm having a seizure. The squirrels gathered together in an effort to make a brave stand against the pigeon onslaught, but their bravery disappeared when they realized this wasn’t just a swarm of pigeons flying at them…it was a bombing run.

You see pigeons do two things very well. The first is eat, and the second is poop. I’ve often thought that pigeons eat only as an excuse to poop, and as stated they are amazing at it. Your average pigeon can poop into a full coffee cup from ten stories high and not even cause a splash. They are like snipers, but with their butts. So once the bombing raid began it became every squirrel for themself. I had myself a laugh as two of the squirrels scrambled for any cover, but there was none to be found. The third squirrel, the mangy one, grabbed Sergio and tried using him like a poop shield. It was oddly effective, unless you were Sergio. Within minutes the pigeons left a half inch of “evidence”. One of the squirrels was literally stuck to the ground, another was running, but couldn’t find any traction and so he looked like the most disgusting ice skater ever. The third squirrel was crushed under the combined weight of the hamster and all the pigeon poo that had collected on him. I almost felt bad for the mangy squirrel considering he was flat on his back with a hamster on his chest and his face exposed for every pigeon to take a shot.

By the time I turned to head back to the palace a second wave of pigeons was arriving. I could hear them humming as they began to target their victims. I arrived outside Buckingham Palace just before the changing of the guard.. I made my way to the guards. The trick was going to be finding one that was a little sleepy. As luck would have it I did even better. One of the guards reeked of vodka, and was stumbling around. It was as simple as slapping the hat off his drunken head, and then wrapping myself up in a ball. It wasn’t a perfect replica, but hopefully it’d be enough to fool them until I was in.

The guard I rode in on was barely aware of where he was, and so I didn’t worry about him noticing that his hat had a tail. As soon as we were in the palace I hopped off him and cut down a hallway. Moving through the castle wasn’t easy. People are everywhere, and my nose told me there were dogs in the area. To be specific there were at least three Corgis. You don’t realize how easy it would be to have something like an random litterbox containing a chemical weapon until you realize that royalty never gets rid of anything. They are like the ultimate hoarders. Such and such king from such and such year once scratched his butt while sitting on this chair. So of course they have to keep it for the posterity of his posterior. Before long every hallway is endless paintings, furniture everywhere, and doodads from God knows where.

Getting through the hallways was hard, but whenever I made it to a room there were endless things to hide in, on, and under. Unfortunately I was still covered in soot so I made everything I touched filthy. After hours of searching I finally found the Queen’s bedroom. Beside it was a simple litterbox. By simple I mean it had gold everywhere, and diamonds encrusted on everything. That must be a terror to clean. I moved in to inspect the litterbox, and found myself face to face with a Persian.

“Well hello.” I said in my best suave James Bond voice.(I like to think I’m a combination of Sean Connery and Pierce Brosnan when it comes to being smoothe and debonair. Of course this Persian was pretty cute, and by the way she cringed I may have come across more like Austin Powers.)

“I don’t think strays are allowed in here.” The Persian said with a haughtiness that I found very appealing.

“I’m not a stray. I’m Secret Agent Orange from America, but you can call me Deuce, and do you have a name?” I asked.

“Anita Gopody.” She smirked.

“Anita Gopody.” That’s a beautiful name for a beautiful cat.” Yes…I was laying on the charm. It’s what I do.

Anita rolled her eyes, “No. My name is Elizabeth, and I…need…to…go…potty. Do you mind?”

“OH! My apologies.” I turned and sauntered back out of the litterbox.” After a few moments she came out looking prim and proper. I however was still covered in soot and I regretted this plan of mine more and more.

“So, you’re here to save the queen?” She sighed.

“We had a report of a planned chemical weapon attack hidden in a litterbox.” As soon as I spoke Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed.

“So why are you telling me this?” She asked. Her four legs tensed as she prepared to either fight or run away.

“Well…you are the queen right?” I answered matter-of-factly, and all the tension eased out of her.

“How did you know that?” She asked.

“Well for starters, nobody names their pet after themselves, and that bed hasn’t been slept in at all, and of course the Queen is known for keeping Corgis, and so why would she need a litterbox.” I grinned once I realized that I’d really and truly impressed the Queen. I took the moment to politely excuse myself and explore the Queen’s litterbox. My eyes immediately saw the problem. “So I’m guessing they switched your litter today?”

“Yeah. It feels different, but they assured me it was my normal brand.” Elizabeth answered.

“Who exactly handles you litter?” I asked.

“Normally it’s one of the servants, but Rico and Suave took care of it today. They said there’d been some security concerns. Why? What’s wrong?” Elizabeth asked.

“Nothing right now. Thank God you went number two. If you’d gone number one then we wouldn’t be having this conversation. This litter is covered with some chemical. My guess is that had you felt that particular call of nature then the liquid would have activated the chemicals on the litter, and released a gas making you a former queen.” As it was her recent efforts weren’t enough to release enough of the gas to cause any real problem, but even now it was starting to burn my eyes. “So who are Rico and Suave? They have some explaining to do.”

“They’re my two closest bodyguards. They guard me when I’m in the Queenbot and usually one of them operates the Husbandbot.” Elizabeth sounded angry, and considering she just survived an assassination attempt I couldn’t blame her.

“Well let’s get you to safety, and then I’ll go find your two bodyguards.” I growled.

Elizabeth wanted to come with me. I’m pretty sure she was ready to go medieval on her bodyguards, but as much fun as it would have been to see her unleash her inner lioness on them, it would have been a bad idea if after all this she ended up getting hurt or killed in a fight. I escorted her to the safety of her own secret panic room. After double-checking to make sure that the panic room was safe I took a few moments to dust the soot off me. At least now I looked a little like my normal self. The orange fur was back, but it was muted by all the soot I couldn’t get out yet.

“Now I know why they call you Agent Orange.” Elizabeth teased. “You still need a bath though. You’re filthy.” Then she gave me a lick on the cheek. “Play your cards right and there’ll be more where that came from.

“I love my job.” I grinned as I left the panic room. “You meet the most interesting new friends.”

“Hurry back.” Elizabeth said, and with that the security door closed. We were now separated.

I ran through hallway after hallway until I found the kitchen. That’s when I saw them both. Rico and Suave were both piloting the Queenbot, and her robot husband. It’s amazing how far technology has come. A millenia ago if a cat ran a country they would have to rely on a human to act as the public face. This became problematic when a king or queen had to deal directly with the public. A few centuries ago they tried puppets, but that just never worked right. Now the British had perfected robotic suits that could be operated by the Queen and her Corgi guard detail. It was one of the best kept secrets in the world, and now these two idiot Corgis were about to throw it all away.

There are a few things wrong with what I found in the kitchen. The first being that the robotic Queen had made two potted meat sandwiches. A queen never makes her own meals. That’s what servants are for. The second was that despite supposedly being a ninety-one year old woman, the Corgi piloting the Queenbot had the Queen shaking her money maker like she was on a twerk team.

“Shake it Suave!” Rico laughed. “Drop it like it’s hot!”

“Why didn’t we take over sooner. This is great!” Suave giggled.

I leapt and slashed at the Queenbot’s face. Luckily I surprised Suave , and, in a panic, she jerked the controls causing the Queenbot to dive headfirst into the oven. The steel reinforce head struck the much thicker steel of the oven and the Queenbot crumpled to the ground. The Queen’s face fell off exposing a disoriented Corgi. I didn’t have time to waste. My next leap was at the husbandbot’s face. He screamed and turned. “GET OFF! GET OFF!” He screamed as all four paws sank their claws deep into his head. Buckingham palace was filled with the screams of a robotic representation of the Queen’s husband slammed into every wall on the way to the stairs. I leapt off at the last second and watched Rico tumble down the stair sin his husbandbot. When he reached the bottom of the face popped off, and a battered and bruised Corgi lay inside the head groaning. The noise brought the guard and Queen Elizabeth’s personal assistant.

The assistant’s name was Morgan, and he was a great guy. Scooping me up, he ordered the guards to take both Corgis in custody. From there we made our way towards the panic room. We arrived just in time to hear a loud explosion, and feel the room shake as the entire panic room was pulled away from Buckingham Palace by a large helicopter. Well I had to give the FARTS credit. They obviously had a backup plan we weren’t aware of. I leapt from Morgan’s arms to the window just in time to see three filthy squirrels scurrying up the cable from the panic room to the helicopter.

There was no time to waste, and so I bounded out the window, and landed on a bush below. I scrambled after the helicopter. Soon I was weaving in and out of the palace guards legs, and after that it was just a few moments later I was out on the street leaping from the curb onto a passing car. With the wind in my fur, and my mind on the mission I stayed locked on the helicopter. The car must have been driven by some old grandmother who could barely reach the pedals because we were going so slow I’d never catch up. So I took a leap and landed in the back of a pickup, and rolled all the way to the tailgate net.

In a perfect world the tailgate net would have held and brought me to a gentle stop. Unfortunately, I’m in England and so the tailgate net snapped and I was left holding onto the net for dear life as I just missed hitting the street by inches. I was one bad pothole from eating pavement.

“I’m coming for you CAAAAAT!” A tiny voice screeched from behind that I immediately recognized at Sergio. Looking backwards I saw the gloppy mess of hatred that could only be the he was driving a taxi in a manbot with the faceplate lifted up. I stared into his beady black and soulless eyes and knew he was out for blood. He grinned and the taxi sped up. He was going to ram me into the back of the pickup. This was definitely not how I wanted to spend one of my nine lives. As he grew nearer I scrambled to get up the tailgate net, but it was just too floppy. The front of the tax grew nearer and nearer, and I could hear the hamster laughing maniacally. I had one chance, and that was to leap at the last second, and hope I could land on the taxi’s hood.

My timing was perfect, my landing however left a lot to be desired. Instead of landing like some action hero, I bounced on the hood and splatted against the windshield. Some of that was due to crashing into the back of the truck, but some of it is that I don’t have a stuntman and a green screen to make this look amazing. At least I had enough sense to grab the windshield wipers with my back claws. I was stuck to the windshield like a skinny and much more handsome version of Garfield. Sergio laughed and squealed, “I’m guessing you hate mondays?”

“No…just fat hamsters!” I growled and tried to get to the roof. Once there I could lean against the taxi sign and catch my breath. I’d be sore tomorrow. Unfortunately, Sergio had no intention of giving me a break. He began brake checking and swerving to throw me off. I held on for dear life because at the speed we were going I wasn’t about to survive falling off.

Sergio’s plan would have worked, but he got impatient, and after rolling down the window he started trying to grab me off the roof. Never let it be said I was a cat afraid to show my claws, and so I dug into the manbot’s forearm and clawed my way inside the cab using the arm like a ladder. By the time I was inside Sergio was screaming and slapping at me. With no hands on the steering wheel we swerved and went everywhere. I took a few swipes at the hamster before scurrying down him. I slid under the steering wheel and then threw myself at the brake. The taxi screeched to a halt, and I heard Sergio make a hard thump against the windshield. I jumped back up to see that Sergio wouldn’t be a problem for anyone anymore. I hit autopilot and we were off. At least the manbot could take verbal directions. I wasn’t about to get in that cockpit after Sergio. It was just a mess. Those pigeons were highly effective. The worst part is when he hit the windshield it ended up looking like someone shot it with a giant paintball. So I rolled the windows down, and thanked God it was a cool day.

We caught up to the helicopter near some docks. It was lowering the panic room onto a ship. They were already getting ready to leave so I hopped out of the taxi and snuck onto the ship. FARTS were everywhere. A whole squad of chihuahuas patrolled the deck, and let me tell you that those little FARTS are mean. There was no way I could fight them all off, and so I did the only thing I could do. I waited. A few loyal humans began carrying equipment to the steel door, and soon they were cutting away. I tucked myself in between some barrels and watched carefully. The Suicide Squirrels left in the helicopter now that all their work was done, and I breathed a little easier. With those three gone it meant they probably wanted Elizabeth alive.

When the door finally cracked open Elizabeth came flying out all fur and fangs. Her claws found the first chihuahua and sent him rolling. Unfortunately they just had too many for her, but I was proud of her. She’s a feisty one. They held her in place as she hissed and growled at them all. A human carried a tablet over to Elizabeth, and then he began streaming a live feed from somewhere. On the screen was the world’s most wanted terrorist. It was the leader of all the FARTS…Supreme Leader Ding Dong the Dung Beetle.

“Hello Your Highness. You’re probably wondering why I’ve brought you here.” Ding Dong said in the deepest, lowest voice I’d ever heard.

“I assume I’m being held hostage. I refuse to be used for negotiations. My people will not negotiate.” Elizabeth hissed.

A smile grew across Ding Dong’s face, “You’d better hope they negotiate Your Highness. If they don’t then I suppose I can always get my violins restrung.”

“You wouldn’t dare!” Elizabeth growled.

Ding Dong laughed, “Oh don’t worry your furry head. The English will pay. Now be a good girl and hold still so we can get a good picture for your negotiators.”

I readied myself for the flash, and as soon as they clicked the picture I was at a full sprint. One leap sent me right into the guy holding Ding Dong’s tablet. He fell forward and dropped the tablet face up. “Eat butt buttface!” As insults go it wasn’t a great one, but hearing Ding Dong scream as my butt slid across his monitor was completely worth it. From there I nudged Elizabeth, “Run!”

We both scrambled across the deck of the boat. Angry Chihuahuas were chasing us, but as everyone knows most Chihuahuas are fat and dumb so we had no trouble keeping ahead of the yipping terrors. Unfortunately there was only one way off the ship. We leaped off the side of the ship, and crashed into the water below. Some of the humans dove in after us, and they would have caught us but we were able to squeeze into a drainpipe. From there it was just a short, and smelly trip back to Buckingham Palace.

***

It’s been two weeks since I rescued Elizabeth. Rico and Suave are locked away in animal control. I hear they are sharing a cell with a mangy Saint Bernard that expresses on overfondness for others. The Saint Bernard’s been nicknamed Humpy. Rico and Suave are not happy with the accommodations, or the fact Humpy puts the mate in roommate. It couldn’t happen to a better pair of Corgis.

Sergio surprisingly lived. I was sure the faceplant into the windshield had him riding a hamster wheel to hell, but he’s tougher than I thought. They’ve got him securely held in Mrs. Edgerton’s third grade class. By all accounts he’s being put on a rigorous diet. Ironically the music department is next door, and I hear the music teacher loves to play Ride of the Valkyries between classes. So seven times a day, between classes, Sergio runs around his cage in terror trying to find safety. I still say his mother should have eaten him when she had the chance.

The Suicide Squirrels are missing at this time. The United Kingdom has a warrant for their arrest. They’ll turn up again. It’s just a matter of time, and between now and then I can enjoy a nice vacation. I’ve certainly earned it.

“So Deuce…would you like the servants to bring us some more tuna?” Elizabeth asked.

I snuggled a little closer to the queen and licked her forehead, “Oh I think we can find a way to keep ourselves busy for a little while. Besides, tuna is so much better when you’ve worked up an appetite…don’t you think.”

“Oh you’re so bad.” Elizabeth laughed.

The End