I poked Quincy and PittyPat. “What’s work?”
“Go away,” Quincy mumbled. “I’m sleeping. It’s been a long day under the lights.”
We were four weeks old now. Every day, MamaGrace took us to a soundstage for acting. I wanted to understand why we had to be actors and actresses.
“You sleep too much,” PittyPat told Quincy.
Quincy did a fake snore. “Like I always say…”
PittyPat finished it for him: “…laugh and the world laughs with you. Snore and you sleep alone.”
“Exactly,” said Quincy. He rolled over and curled up to sleep.
“Let’s sit in the sun and talk,” I told PittyPat.
We lived in the largest penthouse apartment of Majestic Kennels. It was so big that fifty kittens could’ve slept there, but it only belonged to my family. Windows looked out over the city in all directions. PittyPat and I liked to sit on the wide windowsill in the sunshine, warm and lazy.
Once, I slept on the windowsill. I woke up often that night to watch the city lights blinking below me. I wondered how many other cats were in the city of Kittywood.
Hollywood, California, was the famous home of the U.S. film industry. Bollywood was the home of film in India. Kittywood was the home of the cats who produce and act in videos. Ever since cats got the cat-to-human-speech translator, the cats controlled all the videos featuring a cat. Kittywood snuggled in a hidden valley in a forgotten part of the U.S. It’s home to the five biggest video cat companies:
Majestic Kennels
Cardinal Kennels
Fox Kennels
Wells Brothers Kennels
Malachi-Glenys Kennels
The cats hired humans to film and edit the videos and do other jobs. Groomers kept the stars’ coats in shape. Cleaners kept the kennels clean and sweet-smelling. And chauffeurs drove cats here and there.
Kittywood’s city parks were planted with catnip, and cat families strolled the streets. It was a city built for cats and those who love us.
“What’s work?” I asked PittyPat again.
“Work is when you do what the Director says,” PittyPat said. “For us, work is acting in a cat video.” She watched me through half-closed eyes.
“But why is it called work?”
“Because we do what the Director asks. Then he lets us live in this penthouse. It’s an exchange. We do something for him, and he does something for us.”
I thought about that. “He brings MamaGrace food. What if we don’t work?”
A shiver went through PittyPat. “MamaGrace is scared of that. If we don’t work or if we don’t get enough views…well, we’ll have to leave. No food and no house.”
I thought about that. I didn’t want to leave Majestic Kennels. I was learning to act, like DaddyAlbert. I wanted him to come home soon. MamaGrace watched his old videos with us. When he acted, it didn’t look like work. It looked like fun.
I did like acting. But I needed to understand it better. Maybe DaddyAlbert could help.
“Do you like acting?” I asked PittyPat.
“Yes!” PittyPat twined her tail around mine. She did that when she was excited. “In my acting videos, I want to surprise people. They think cats will do this or that. I want to do the other things.”
Suddenly the door of our kennel opened.
There was the Director.
MamaGrace said he was a sphynx cat. She said he was a fine-looking cat.
But he was bald, and his stomach hung out. His skinny neck was full of wrinkles. His back had rows of wrinkles from his spine to his belly. The only thing not wrinkled was his ears, which were huge.
“Time for work,” the Director said.
Quincy sat up and rubbed his eyes. “Yes, sir.”
PittyPat bounded toward him, purring, “Yes, sir.”
I wished acting made me as happy as it did PittyPat. She knew what she wanted in her videos. Surprises. I didn’t know what I wanted. I liked acting and the spotlights and watching the finished videos. I just didn’t know what I wanted to do in them.
“Angel!” The Director turned back to me. “Are you coming?”
I sighed. “Yes, sir.”