Major Meowington’s Dilemma.

- PROLOGUE -

— The real problem with this, Major Meowington, sir, is how the hell are we gonna get those blasted mice into the old mine in the first place. Even they aren’t that stupid. Damn rodents will sure as hell fight back. We need superior tactics.

— What do you propose, lieutenant? asked Meowington visibly shaken by the latest turn of events. This is our one and only hope. It’s not a prefect plan and we will encounter both friendly and civilian losses.

— But is it really the only way, sir?

— What do you….Oh no! No! No way, no how, not here. not now! I will not permit it!

— I believe he’s already on his way, sir.

— Correction! He’s already here.

Both Major Meowington and Lieutenant Whitenose gasped when they turned to find the source of the last remark. One gasp was of awe and the other one of desperation and there were both understandable, for on the doorstep of the war shack stood none other than Miguel “Ninetails” Kowalski, international man of mystery, lady’s man and pain under the tail for every rule-nut in the United Force of the Cat Guerilla. His look alone was breaking half of the Uniform and War Gear Code Book whilst his attitude was breaking more rules than anyone could invent.

— I heard you got quite a situation here, Meowington, old champ.

— Ahem! First of all, Ninetails, I am not your chump! Old or otherwise. There is no work for you here. You’d better return to headquarters and put yourself on the line for another mission. Maybe something concerning a volcano. Or a dingo.

— Thanks, Henry but although both those scenarios seem much more fun than being stranded here with you, in the middle of the fuckin’ jungle, I do have an assignment, and I am going to do it, even if you like it or not. In fact I’m gonna do it even if I like it or not. It’s a little thing called “orders”. Old chump.

— You’re the one to talk about orders, Kowalski! I believe you’re a disgrace to our purpose and to our forces. If I had even the vaguest shadow of authority over this you would be flying right over the fuckin West wall with the little help of a catapult.

— Now, now, Henry. Aren’t the code books of the Guerilla advice strongly towards the respect of your superiors, major?

— How would you know? You never read them.

— “How would you know? You never read them.”…what?

— How would you know? You never read them …sir.

— Aaah, drop it, Henry. I’m just fuckin with ya’.

Henry Meowington was beginning to lose his authority in the camp and now he was losing his temper too. He knew Ninetails ever since they were 10. They both grew up under the same staircase, behind the same carton box. They both joined the army. Meowington did it out of patriotism and respect for the strictness and discipline of the army. Ninetails did it for fun. They were amongst the best in their year, yet Meowington was always the one getting promotions, because of is iron grip on discipline and Code Books. Ninetails, on the other hand was the black sheep of the Whiskas Military Academy, always getting into all kind of shenanigans and misdemeanors. Although not standard army material, Miguel Kowalski graduated the Academy. Henry Meowington was the first in his year and achieved the Major rank while still in training. But that’s when the sun stopped shining on Meowington’s street. Mere months after the graduation he started hearing his men telling the tallest and the most far-fetched stories about the bold missions of Ninetails alongside the usual cafeteria talk. He didn’t believe them. He didn’t want to believe. “Must be someone else. Same name. Coincidence!” he used to think.

— Damn it, Ninetails. This job was looking like a real piece of pie before you showed up.

— Actually, sir; tried Lieutenant Whitenose, we still have absolutely no plan what so ever regarding the…

— Thank you Lieutenant. That will be all.

— Yes sir.

Meowington’s rage was beginning to rise into never-before reached levels as he saw Whitenose stopping to ask Ninetails for an autograph for his daughter and some others “for the guys”.

— It’s a real honor to have you amongst us, sir, said Whitenose with a look of bliss on his face. How long do are you going to assist us, sir?

— Until the job is done or we’ve all run out of sour milk, ha ha! Ninetails bumped jokingly on the arm the amazed man who was making his way to the door without taking his eyes off his superior.

In Major Meowington’s head suddenly appeared the paragraph that was detailing the sentence for the murder of a superior officer, from the Disciplinary Code of the U.F.C.G. He hoped he will be in control of the following discussion, now that Ninetails can’t flex his ego’s muscles in front of anybody else.

— Look, lieutenant-colonel, started Meowington boldly. I don’t know what you think you are going to…

— Colonel.

— I beg your pardon?

— Colonel. I’m a colonel now. I’ve been advanced 2 months ago, after the mission in Rwanda. Ninetails was saying all this while inspecting his pockets hastily, clearly in search of some matches to light up the cigarette that was lolling in the corner of his mouth. Meowington’s internal pressure was rising rapidly, to the point that his tail was rising menacingly.

— Let your tail down, Henry. I’m here to help you, not to fight you.

— Help me? Help me? All you did since you arrived here was to insult me in front of my lower officers and bragging about your fucking promotion.

— Touchy subject? Look, I’m sure your time is going to come and you’ll be promoted according to your merits too. Or maybe that time is already here, eh? Haha, be a sport, old chump. I’m here on a mission. And the sooner we get this job done, the sooner will I be out of your hair.

The major’s tail slowly started lowering and so was his energy for fighting Ninetails.He was ready to break, to let his old friend know that he won this one.

— Fine. Meowington seemed to speak as if he had an anvil instead of Adam’s apple. We’re gonna do this by the book and we are not gonna screw it up, right? Tell me you’re not going to pull any of your crazy shit while we’re doing this, Miguel.

— You always sound so formal when you call me by my first name.

— That’s because “Ninetails” is a stupid nickname. It doesn’t even make any sense.

— I think it’s a perfect name for a cafeteria story character. It represents our nine lives by linking them to our favorite part of our body.

— That’s sick and blasphemous. I don’t think our God-sent spiritual attributes are to be made fun of, Miguel.

— There you go, with the formalities again. Listen, Henry. I’m really looking forward to us working together again. It’s gonna be just like back at the academy.

— That’s what scares me the most, mumbled Meowington.

— So when do we get to work? I didn’t come here to sit idly; I’m a cat of action.

— Oh, my friend, you’re gonna get it. And if my latest pieces of information are accurate, you’re gonna get it sooner than I expected.

— Great! This is gonna be great! Just like the good ol’ times. I’m gonna go outside and meet the guys around here.

— You mean you’re going to feed of their silly admiration for your notoriety.

— Call it what you want. I still thing that a good bond with your troops is one of the…

Ninetails was stopped in mid-phrase by the revolving door which hit him over the face as it was slammed to the wall by the man who just entered the shack, clearly with urgent matters.

— Yes, Spot. What is it?

— It’s Threepaws, sir. We’ve…we’ve found him.

- to continue -