The Day I Turned Into a Cat (Completed)

Anything Means Anything

Remember when I said that I would do anything, yes anything, to stop Rice from going back to Mexico? Well if you don't remember that, I still said it. So that's what Ally and I were about to do.

Standing outside of the big mansion gates scared me spit less. The black bars loomed overhead of me and the points on the top of them seemed to cry out my death sentence. Past the winding driveway lined with trees I could see the large, modern house. The lush grounds didn't have a speck of grass out of place and there were three yard keepers outside making sure of that.

Ok, this might be a little harder than I thought.

There were cameras posted everywhere, with security men, dogs, and special coms to communicate in case of intruders.

Luckily, we already had a way in to the grounds. I could creep through the bars if I sucked in my stomach and Ally had dug a hole. Simple, yes. Genius, no. If this were some sort of Cats VS Dogs movie, we would have used grappling hooks and laser beams and crazy-cool technology. But we aren't that advanced, nor do we have a secret underground layer to plan all of this stuff so we were stuck with this plan.

Ally looked over at me. "Ready?"

I stuck my paw through one of the bars. "Ready."

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"Just jump up and ring the door bell," I hissed.

We had been standing at the door for nearly five minutes trying to figure out how to get in. Somehow, we had gotten past everybody by bush whacking, but I had a couple thorns stuck in me from Rice's moms prize winning rose bushes. Oh well, if they're wrecked, there's always next year to win.

"That's to suspicious!" Ally growled back.

"Well we need to figure out a way before someone sees us sitting here."

"Fine, I'll ring it. You creep inside once the door opens. It should be the housekeeper Sara. She's not that keen on things. As long as you're quick, she'll never notice. When you get in, head to the kitchen. Go right down the first corridor and it's the fifth door on the left. I'll go up the stairs to his room and drag him down to the kitchen. Here."

She spat out a little white package with the label in big, blue letters. I picked it up in my mouth. "I hope you didn't poke a hole and eat any of this." I mumbled.

"Trust me, I didn't. I still feel really cruel for doing this to my boyfriend." She jumped up against the white stucco and fumbled around as she tried to press the tiny black button. Finally, I heard chimes go off inside and moments later the door swung open.

"Now," Ally grumbled.

I didn't think twice. The light from inside hit my eyes and I sprang my paw forward, running as fast as I could.

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This was crazy. How was a cat supposed to open a cabinet, get a glass, pour water in it, and then dump in a bag of laxatives all before her crazy dog friend returned with the "subject?"

Oh yeah, I may have forgotten to mention that we will be spiking Rice's drink with enough laxatives to empty out the insides of an elephant.

Was our plan cruel?

Extremely.

So let me go over part one of phase three of our plan:

I would get a glass from the kitchen (duh), and somehow drag it over to the sink (double duh) and then poke a tiny hole into the laxatives bag and pour the solution in there and then mix it up with water (duh, duh, duh).