When a Dog Meets a Boy, and a Cat Meets a Girl
The dog seemed perplexed looking at the map. Of course the dog seemed perplexed looking at a carpet, or at a window, or at almost anything. That was a dog thing. The only thing the dog could look at without seeming perplexed was its own bowl and that only if there was food in it. The map definitely was not the dog's bowl with food.
Despite being perplexed, the dog was a master of being a nuisance. It stood up, took a clumsy step towards him and, promptly, collided with him. It was a big thing, the collision. The dog was huge. It was a big clumsy black monster who had no idea of the proper use of its paws. At the moment, one paw was on top of him, Justin the Cat. He wriggled out from under the stupid dog's stupid paw. The paw was about twice the size of him. He snarled at the paw, which just stood there, looking perplexed.
Justin the Cat sighed. This life of his, the sixth, was proving to be a very unfulfilling one. As was proper, his newest toy, the Brian-toy, had come back to the pet store. That was all the toy had done that was proper. Yes, it had bought Justin the Cat, but it had bought the dumb dog, too. And, as if that was not enough, it had given him away just like he had given away the dog. Him, Justin the Cat, given away by his own toy! How humiliating.
The Brian-toy had given Justin the Cat to a very immature female of its kind, a female named either JR or Jenny Rebecca. The cat was not entirely sure which one was the name of the female, since it was called both. The female was quite adequate for a substitute toy, but it was very wrong that his own toy left him with that little female toy. And with the dumb dog.
As had been its idea from the beginning, the Brian-toy had given the dog to its own cub. Apparently everybody knew the immature male's name, since everybody called him Gus. It was also apparent that the immature male was the Brian-toy's cub: it shared the Brian-toy's terrible taste and, so, did not show the proper admiration of the cat. Instead, the Gus-cub seemed to adore the dumb dog. Poor cub.
But Justin the Cat had work to do. He had decided that, if the Brian-toy was not taking him to its house, the house would take him in anyway. He padded along the map. How could it be so hard to find the corner of Tremont and Fuller on the map? If he had been honest with himself, the cat would have admitted to himself that he was pretty much as perplexed as the dog, but he had no intention of being that honest in the near future.
It had been quite easy to find out the Brian-toy's address. A big female that lived in the house had the toy's address in a book which the female kept in a bag. Since, for the most of the time, the bag laid on the floor, the cat had easy access to the book. There it had been, in bold letters, the toy's address. The acquainting of the map had been trickier, but he had managed that too, even if it had taken a dangerous climb along a curtain up to the shelf where the map was kept and down again. So, Justin the Cat had the address and he had the map, but, still he did not succeed.
In frustration, the cat went back to the bag and to the book. He took another look. Then he sat on his ass, perplexed.
How could his toy have its address in Pittsburgh, USA, when he, Justin the Cat, was in Toronto, Canada?