We were all back from the trip to Scotland and had the weekend to rest. I was raring to go by Monday morning. Sitting at my desk, I banged out another blog when the lovely, Savoy, joined me in the office. Seeing as how our Highland Fling hit a snag with Savoy’s less than enthusiastic acquiescence, I kept my focus in a professional manner and continued to type away, in pursuit of entertaining the cat world, and all those who aspire to join us in the cosmos of love.
Savoy entered and sat at her desk. She immediately fired up the phone. Her soft purrs began shortly afterwards. I must meow, that the serene vibrations, very nearly, lulled me into a hypnotic state.
“Ooooo . . . Did you see this?” Savoy broke the spell and she could not hide the excitement from her voice.
“What is it, my Belovéd?” My attention switched to her, right away.
“There’s a new Canadian on-line news source called, ‘The Canadian Variety Meow’. It’s the ‘newspaper where all cats share the love of the arts’. You might want to write a piece or two for them?” Savoy suggested.
It filled my heart with joy to know that this, the most beautiful creature on earth, thought enough about me and my writing to help me find a larger audience; it almost made me weep.
“Do you think they would enjoy my work? I know not everyone has an affinity towards my brand of writing. Especially, these days, with the dumbing down of your average kitty because of ai and the computer age.” I reasoned. It was certainly getting harder and harder to stop the billionaire tech-oligarchs from stealing the work of creatives. “No one wants to pay the storytellers for their work. It’s why I have to supplement my income by working as a detective.” I lamented.
“Stop your whinging! This is important! There’s something in here that could upend the balance of art . . . particularly the theatrical kind.” Savoy could hardly contain herself. “Catte Davis, the famous catress, has signed a deal to do this summer’s ’Tibbs In The Park’, in High Park . . . And they’re having open auditions for the rest of the cast, on Tuesday. Just think of that . . . ? A fabulous Tibbsperean catress treading the boards here in Toronto.” She gushed.
I have to meow that her eagerness was contagious. “I didn’t know you were a theatre buff, my Love? Nor a fan of the classics? Tibbs and his plays were quite the ‘thing’ a few years ago, or so I’ve been told at my writing classes. Personally, I have a hard time understanding the ‘olde’ language but I know he was considered a genius in his time (and in his own mind).” I repeated the meows I had learned in school.
The Kontinental Kat entered, stage right, as if on cue.
“I think I’d like to audition.” Savoy mentioned.
“Meowing of auditions, there is an open casting call for the ‘Tibbs In The Park’ festival this summer. I’d like you and Dash to infiltrate.” The Kontinental Kat meowed as he sat at his desk.
I gave Savoy an incredulous look. Did he . . . ? How did . . . ? I was flummoxed. “Boss?” I questioned.
“We’ve been hired to keep a close eye on the goings-on of these theatre felines. ‘Strong & Free Productions’ wants us to remain so. No outside influences trying to foist their immoral and unethical ways on us. They don’t want the entertainers to change the Tibbs plays so that they lose their identity. Tibbs and his work must remain ours. As much as those in the south want to alter history, the truth is the truth, and will not be disputed.” The Kontinental Kat grinned at the two of us. “I’ll arrange for your auditions. You only have a short amount of time to prepare. So, get to it.”
*********
With only occasional catnaps, we spent every waking hour at the rehearsal hall together. Now, normally, this would be the highlight of my very existence. Time with Savoy was a Catsend and the greatest way to get through the day. But I have to admit, running lines with her, although difficult, was nothing compared to the costume she insisted I wear . . .
“Do I have to wear this?” I was prepared to slay dragons, hiss at strangers or flatter Hollywood stars for Savoy . . . But these tights?
“The audition is tomorrow! I want you to get used to the period costumes you’ll be donning over the summer.” She reasoned.
“The only thing more humiliating would be having to dress up as a DOG!” I muttered but carried on with our scene.
*********
“O Romeo . . . Romeo . . . Wherefore art thou, Romeo?” Savoy repeated the famous lines.
Luckily, I could watch her all day long. I was absolutely gobsmacked by her beauty and talent. I could not take my eyes off her.
“Deny thy Pops and refuse thy name, . . . Being a Capulet ain’t so hot. I’d change my name for fame?” Savoy waited and finally sneered at me.
Then from the darkened audience a shout loomed, “Cut! That’s you Romeo?”
I realized it was my cue and I had missed it. I stepped onto centre stage and apologized, “ Sorry. That was my fault. I was mesmerized by the lovely, Savoy . . . I mean, ‘Juliet’.” I hoped the explanation helped my Love’s chances of winning the role.
“Savoy, you’re hired. Romeo, we’ll call you.” Came the booming meow from the audience.
I knew what this meant. I had failed as a cator. I slunk offstage only to be greeted by the famous lead male star, Sir Rocky Hudson. A pretty boy who in recent years was rumoured to be a fraud and a trickster. He had shot to megastar status, just a few years ago, because of his performances in this very same festival.
He had fallen from grace when his nip habit got out of paw. He went into rehab and was now on the comeback trail to redeem his catting abilities in the theatre.
I was not impressed with his laughter at my expense. He continued to giggle about my performance while attempting to get Savoy to join him in mocking me.
My ears pricked up as I heard a definite creaking noise. Glancing into the rafter, I saw a heavy sandbag, swinging overhead. Then as if in slow motion, the sandbag separated from the rope it hung from and plummeted towards the stage. I, quickly, shoved Savoy and Sir Rocky out of the way. I covered my Belovéd with my body while Sir Rocky stumbled into Catte Davis. The two of them ended up in a tangled mess on the floor. I managed to slap at the sandbag before it hit the floor and split open.
There was an ensuing silence for a full minute and a half. Broken only when Ms. Davis began cursing, “WTFLOOF?!!! Get off me, you floofin’ stray!” She wriggled away from Sir Rocky.
The 1st Assistant Director rushed to the stars to help them both up onto their paws. “What happened here?” The 1st AD asked.
“That cat . . .” Sir Rocky pointed my way. I thought I was about to be accused of something terrible. “Just saved my life.”
They say, ‘The bigger the star, the nicer they are’. And I was beginning to believe it. Sir Rocky’s stardom was definitely rising in my opinion. The rumours about him were obviously exaggerated.
“Him? The Dogberry who couldn’t even remember his lines?” The 1st AD seemed highly skeptical.
“I want him hired as my understudy.” Sir Rocky insisted.
“Oh, I don’t think Mr. Spielcat will agree to that.” The Director’s brofur-in-law answered.
“I saw him save the lives of your stars. He should be given a chance.” Savoy also mentioned to the 1st AD.
They all looked towards Ms. Davis. She nodded her head ever so slightly. Theatre people were proving to be genuinely kind.
*********
Back at the office, the Kontinental Kat listened to our re-telling of the audition story. I let Savoy have centre stage as she was the star in this caper of ours.
“So, you were both hired?” The Kontinental Kat re-affirmed.
“We were. And tonight there is a cast get-together at the Four Seasons. We’ve been asked to dress up as Tibbsperean characters. We’ll mingle and get the lay of the land . . .” Savoy told the Boss.
This was all news to me. “What?”
“The party . . . Tonight . . .” Savoy repeated.
“I know nothing about it. Maybe I’m not invited?” I hung my head.
“You can be Savoy’s date.” The Kontinental Kat suggested. I thought he withstood the menacing glare from my Belovéd with a grace I never imagined possible. Or maybe he was just ignoring her?
“Fine.” She relented. “But I’ll pick his costume.”
My heart leapt. I was going to escort my Savoy to a Hollywood Party. Could I be any luckier?!
*********
“Who am I again?” I asked Savoy.
“Dogberry.” She replied with a smirk.
“And he’s one of the most handsome, brave and athletic of Tibbs’ characters?” I was ready to take on this role.
“You fit him and the costume, perfectly.” She answered.
This party was the greatest. Not only was I there with all these famous, beautiful people, I was the escort of Savoy. It did seem a bit odd when I introduced myself as this Dogberry, that the others tended to avoid me but I realized it had everything to do with professional jealousy. No one likes to be upstaged.
Catte Davis was the only one who seemed fine with spending time with me. She approached, in her Egyptian costume, dripping with diamonds, rubies and emeralds. “Why, in Cat’s name, did you decide to attend this party as Dogberry? You know he’s a . . .”
Before she could finish her remark, the lights went out!
Almost immediately, they flashed back on and Ms. Davis clutched at her collar area to let out a blood curdling yowl.
“My jewels are gone!”
End of Part I
*🙀🙀🙀. Will Dash be accused? Will the jewels be found? Will the play go on? Another Tibbs In The Park festival is starting the season off with a BANG! Make sure you read all the blogs . . . You don’t want to miss this summer of mystery, suspense and cliffhangers. The fun commences now!
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Copyright ©️ 2026 By Judith Wiberg
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