A clowder of kittens pushed and jostled for position. It was the second week of the Top Kitten contest, and everyone wanted to see the scores.
“Stand back,” yelled the Director. Mr. Danny, his right-hand man, gently pushed through the clowder to the wall. He taped a piece of paper there and stepped back.
I waited, not caring to shove and push. But PittyPat and Quincy wove through the crowd to the front. PittyPat called loudly, “Top Kitten this week is Jazz, with her ‘Monkey Business’ dress-up video.”
I turned away and stared at the classic posters that lined the front lobby of Majestic Kennels. My favorite was the one that showed DaddyAlbert and MamaGrace dancing together. My second favorite showed them rowing a boat together. Together. Always together. And now they were an ocean apart.
And I hadn’t made Top Kitten again. Two weeks gone. Only four left.
“Angel, did you see your score?”
I turned to Jazz and forced out the words. “No. I just heard that you’re Top Kitten again this week. Congratulations!”
Jazz sat on her haunches and licked a paw, which meant she was happy with herself.
I covered my jealousy by talking. “You’re a really great dress-up cat.”
“I definitely do NOT like the monkey outfit,” Jazz said. “For the video, they tried to jam a banana down my mouth—yuk! I don’t want to be a food cat.”
“What amazes me is your costumes,” I said. “They’re amazing.”
Jazz stopped cleaning her paw and stared at me. “Thanks. But why are you being so nice to me?”
I shook my head, puzzled. “I’m not being nice. You’re a good actress, and I like your videos.”
“You don’t think it’s weird that I’m a Siamese doing dress-up?”
“No.”
“It’s so hard!” Jazz said. “I have to be a successful actress, and more important, I have to not embarrass the Siamese world.”
“They don’t like dress-up?” I said.
“Not at all! I’m a different sort of Siamese, I guess. How can I dress just one way? I love to dress up in different clothes.”
She was right. Usually, Siamese don’t like to be touched or dressed. Ragdolls might get coddled and dressed up. Not a Siamese.
Quincy walked toward us, but I waved him off. I could find out my ranking after this talk with Jazz.
“Will it matter to your parents if your videos get lots of views?”
“Of course,” Jazz said. “I need to be successful so we can stay in Kittywood. We don’t want to go back to the normal world of cats.”
“This crazy business only works if you’re true to yourself.”
Jazz nodded. “Your snowflake video showed you as yourself. You weren’t acting in that one, were you?”
“Yes and no.” I laughed at the memory of the cold snow. “Sometimes I’d turn a certain way or hold a pose for the camera. But mostly I just played with the snowflakes.”
“That’s why you’re so good at this,” Jazz said. “You do it naturally.”
We stared at each other. I really liked her monkey video, and she really liked my snowflake video. Maybe we could be friends.
“Say,” I said, “we were going to the park to play in the Catnip Meadow. Want to come?”
Jazz half closed her eyes, and then turned her head away. “No,” she said harshly. “I don’t think it’s a good idea. Only one of us can be Top Kitten.” Then she walked away.
Surprise left me speechless. I had to blink away tears. The competition was important, of course. But was it so important that we couldn’t be friends?
