Galahad's Moment 1

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Every time we went home from school, Galahad would be the first to greet us in the doorway.

He was originally Ma's cat and named after a knight when he saved Ma from the bad guy, so somehow, everyone in the household spoiled him tremendously.

Before, he would sleep at our cribs every night, and in the morning, he would nap at Ma's office. Now, he was just sleeping anywhere.

We grew up with a knowledge that Galahad is a one fat, lazy cat with a lifetime job of sleeping, eating and living his name in the opposite ways.

Until one morning, he just vanished without a trace.

"Maybe he's roaming around the garden, chasing butterflies." I reasoned to my sibling who was also worried of Galahad's welfare.

"He's too pudgy to run, and he will never chase butterflies. He finds it - you know – degrading?"

"Yeah." I nodded to agree, then wondered. "Maybe you ate his kibbles again?"

"That was a long time ago. Besides, you even used Da's razor to him before."

We argued for a moment, until we realized later on how rude we were to Galahad.

We felt guilty.

Because even though he's a fat, lazy cat, we still loved him.

We looked around on all the rooms and every corner of the house, even accessed the house cams behind Poppy's back, but still, no Galahad was found.

Our three options?

One - check all the surveillance cams in New York.

Two - check the city pound.

Three - do a cat-hunt outside.

So we went to our basement where a big computer named Unregistered was locked inside.

Whenever Ma and Da were away, we often go there for our assignments – behind Poppy's back, of course – and the computer would answer them all of them correctly.

Ma and Da's wedding anniversary was the new bypass code, but when we opened the system, it began to identify us and denied our access.

I frowned"Da busted us.".

Since we couldn't wreck it, we sneaked into Ma's office to use her computer and opened some NYPSD files to steal Da's ID.

Fortunately, our parents were not around.

While navigating all the surveillance cameras in the city with Unregistered, my partner-in-crime began to call all animal homes and foster centers.

"Animal Care Control. How may I help you?"

"Um, hi...?" said my sibling on the 'link. "Our cat Galahad was lost. Do you have a big, fat, lazy cat in there?"

"We have lots of big, fat, lazy cats here, Miss."

"Oh. But our Galahad's gray, bushy like a fur ball, and weighs several pounds...and has bi-colored eyes."

"I see." the operator replied "When did your cat go missing?"

"Today."

"Maybe your cat was in your neighborhood playing with his friends? Why don't you wait for a day and see if he'll return."

"We looked everywhere but he was not here." my sibling debated. "Does a 24-hour minimum requirement to declare someone's missing can be applied to our Galahad? The Section 838 of the revised NY code said that even families can make a request beyond that."

Someone chuckled on the other line. "You're too witty – what's the name of your parents, kid? Where do you live?"

Instead of providing the answers, we decided to hang up.

Search complete. Unidentified Missing Animal with the certain statistical description has been located in six different areas. Data on-screen.

"Computer, narrow the list to a three-kilometer radius from Central Park West.", I cited.

Data complete.

There we saw our Galahad climbing on a brick fence, jumped on a bush towards the public playground, and disappeared from the cam.

He never showed on the surveillance afterward.

"Is Galahad been kidnapped?"

"Who would want a fatty and tardy cat as a pet?", I scowled, but deep inside I began to fear for his life. "What shall we do?"

Now we were left with the third option – check outside.

Poppy clearly and repeatedly told us not to go outside and play alone. Bad guys were everywhere, he said, and that we must always obey our parents.

But if we were going to tell everyone about Galahad's disappearance, Da will know that we went to the basement again, as well as Ma that we played something on her computer. Poppy might found out that the reason why Galahad ran away was due to the excessive hair clips and make-up gunks from Aunt Mavis that we applied on his face last night.

One way or another, both of us will be scolded later.

It was almost dawn, and the weather outside was getting colder, so we took our hooded jackets and outdoor skids, tiptoed to the back door, and slipped out from the garden gate.

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