Fat Cat Spreads Out Read Free Page A

“Are you sure you saw him?” she asked Mike.
    â€œNot positive. It’s dark back there. But it sure looked like a critter jumped off this table and went underneath the tarp.”
    â€œGreat,” Chase said, planting her fists on her hips. “Quincy is loose again.”

    After extensive exploring, the aroma coming from the cold building was too much for the cat to resist. It was true, he’d gotten a lot of treats up and down the path he’d been roaming, but this was incredible. The whole building was full of butter. After the heavy door was pushed open, he slipped in, unseen by the person entering. Two people started having a violent scuffle, which sent the cat under a table, crouching until the disturbance was over. After the one left and the other lay still on the floor, the cat picked a table with a large amount of the delicious-smelling stuff and sprang up. It was full of the wonderful goodness. He started licking. Butter. An almost infinite amount of it. Yum.

    The three split up and Chase trudged past the booths. She bypassed the sturdy refrigerated building for butter sculptures, since the door was firmly shut. A sign hung on it that read “Keep Closed.” The jeweler next to it had seen him. He had even petted Quincy and fed him a potato chip from his snack stash. Chase paused at a booth with darling children’s clothing featuring colorful bird,fish, and butterfly accents. The two women there exclaimed how cute Quincy was. They had given him some cheese crackers. At a book vendor, she was told that her cat was so clever, he’d tried to open one of the books on the display table. They had slipped him a piece of ham sandwich. Everywhere she went, from the cupcake tent to one selling unique board games and fancy decks of cards, she was told how clever and darling her orange-striped cat was. Almost all of them had fed him. She wondered how he was still able to walk.
    She visited the food concessions selling hot dogs and cotton candy and deep-fried concoctions, shuddering to think what they must have fed him. The people selling handmade banjos and the ones selling glass mobiles hadn’t given him anything, but had admired the “charming” animal. At a booth that gave out information about planting microchips into pets, she snatched a pamphlet after asking about Quincy. She would talk to them later.
    The calliope music reminded her there was another midway, in the lot that held the rides and carny games. She walked past the food vendors and made her way along the line of barkers who were calling passersby to “step up” and “win a prize” for either “the little lady” or “the kiddies.” At each booth, she hoped to see her chubby buddy perched on a ledge or nestled in with the pastel plush tigers and bears. At least these fair workers hadn’t handed out any treats to Quincy. None of them had even seen him.
    She trudged back toward her booth. The sun was warm and raised a dusty, pleasant smell from the sawdust. She’d covered almost the entire row of vendors twice. There wasone she had skipped. The booth to one side of theirs was empty, except for the standard table and two chairs. A cardboard placard read “Harper’s Toys.” She gave it a cursory search, but it provided no hiding places and held no food.
    Two booths away from the one for Bar None, she paused when she saw a familiar figure. Mike stood a head taller than the other two people he was with, a young woman and an older one.
    â€œNo, I’m not sure where it is,” the younger woman was saying to the older one. An abundance of glossy black tresses tumbled below her shoulders and swung when she shook her head. She sounded stressed.
    â€œYour grandfather will kill you when he finds out you took that collar.” The other woman ran a hand up and down the strap to her shoulder bag. “He has enough on his mind right now and he thinks you’ve