GOODBYE BELMONT ONTARIO
A few blocks onward I slowed down to a walking pace. I was certain that leaving Belmont was imperative. It had taken me several days to figure out where and when to leave.
I figured the police had posted a composite of me in the bus and train station, and the airport. Considering I had no car, there was only one thing to do; hitch a ride out of Belmont until I reached another town.
It was a warm sunny day, a light breeze kept me cool. When the time came I changed direction heading straight for the highway; it was only a 10 minute walk from my location.
As soon as I was near the entry ramp to the highway I leaped aside onto a large patch of grass. Therein, I eyed each and every vehicle desperately searching for someone to give me a ride. I spotted a potential target; thereby I stood on my hind legs and then extended my dew claw indicating a hitchhiking stance.
A male motorist in a dark pickup truck pulled over just a few feet from me. This fellow was a real grease-ball, in the literal sense. He was sweating profusely, was greasy haired, smelly, and carried at least 100 pounds of excessive blubber. Judging from what I could see he was well over six feet.
To tell you the truth he gave me the creeps. He just sat there staring at me. In cat language this indicates a direct challenge. But this guy wasn’t a cat he was as human as can be. In his language this kind of a stare indicates mental instability, or danger.
I wasn’t in the mood to back down from a grease-ball. I stared back; in fact I puffed out my body, extended my claws, and bared my canines. When I realized it wasn’t enough I hissed loudly, even spitting in his direction.
The man bent over like he was reaching for something. As soon as he righted himself I noticed he was holding a white shirt but it appeared there was writing on it. He grinned at me and then held up the shirt so I could read what was written on it; I’M A CAT AND DOG KILLER!
No wonder the shirt had been tucked underneath his seat. Before I could comprehend the entirety of the situation the man brandished a large hunting rifle.
“Boy, you better come here! I’m not joshing you. Let me get a good shot at you, right between the eyes. You won’t mind if I use your head for taxidermy purposes ... ha ... ha ... ha!”
This fellow was obviously a foreigner. He spoke like a real southerner. Well, I had to show him that yours truly a Canadian cat would not tolerate this kind of behavior in my beloved country.
Considering that I wasn’t bullet proof and there was nowhere to run to I needed to induce the man to leave his van without firing a shot. Thereafter, I’d make my move.
Instantly, I fell onto the grass, freezing still and breathing through my nose without altering the size of my diaphragm.
“Hey, kitty, you can’t freaking do that! I wanted to shoot you between the eyes while you were standing and looking at me. C’mon, kitty, get up. You can’t make me look like a coward in front of my hunting buddies.”
My eyes were closed except for an undetectable slit in each eye. I could see the man’s every move.
Thank goodness my plan worked. He exited his van, hunting held rifle with both hands. Ignoring traffic and any possible witnesses he approached me, beer belly dangling to his groin, chest dangling to his belly button, and thighs as large as a baby elephant’s. No wonder this guy hated my guts. I was the epitome of what he wanted to be; slim and muscular, streamlined, athletic, intelligent, confident, valiant and heroic, beautiful, and cute.
He approached me cautiously eyeing my diaphragm. No doubt, this fellow was also a sport hunter. Perhaps he spent most of his earnings going on safaris to kill endangered or exotic wildlife species. But no, not me, I was going to strike first.
As soon as he leaned over to inspect me I extended the claws on my forepaws, bared my teeth then threw a barrage of punches to his face and body. Believe me, if I really wanted to destroy him a good scratch or bite to his jugular would’ve knocked him out for the permanent count. But no, I was too nice of a kitty to do that.
No sooner had I knocked the man out motorists and their enthusiastic passengers began to converge upon the scene in great numbers. They began to cheer me on, “come on kitty finish that fat greasy tube of lard off! Don’t give him a chance in hell, c’mon kitty make our day!”
For a moment I was flabbergasted and in awe. Wow, they loved me. But then I took notice of several passengers taking my picture. I quickly turned, lowered my head and ears and then tucked in my tail. I didn’t want anyone to get a good shot of me. Whatever image they could get would be on the 6 o’clock news. The authorities would put two and two together, realizing that I was the killer cat, in the flesh and bone. I couldn’t allow them to know which direction I was heading in.
I ran like crazy, away from the entry ramp up an embankment and then along a semi-isolated street. Because of the location of the vehicles it would’ve been virtually impossible for any driver to follow me. The top of the embankment was blocked off by a steel guard rail.
I ran for a quarter of a mile before slowing down, eventually stopping. Meanwhile, the sound of sirens blasted the entire area.
I reviewed my options by studying the entire area as far as the horizon. But just as I was trying to make up my mind about where to go I heard the sound of sirens approaching my position. No doubt, someone tipped off police.
There were 3 maple trees located diagonally across the street from me, thereafter was flatland a mile wide and a couple hundred yards deep behind it was a vast wooded area.
If I scaled one of the trees and my pursuers happened to take notice of me, it would be over. The authorities could simply gun me down. No one in Belmont would give a damn about a fugitive killer cat. Entering the wooded area would give me time to slither away, however, that was likely the first place they’d search and cordon off. The authorities could block off all exits into and out of the area. Furthermore, they could bring in their search dogs. Worse yet, I’d have to deal with a large posse hell-bent on killing me. No thanks, I had to find a viable Option fast.
I shifted my gave onto the area on the opposite side, seeing nothing but a vast open sandy field containing patches of grass; a sign at the entry of the field read DODGE CONSTRUCTION
INC. No wonder; the area had been chosen for major construction. Dodge Construction Inc. was a big name in town. Mr. and Mrs. Williams had frequent business transactions with the Dodge’s. No doubt, if I’d returned to the area a couple of years later it would be unrecognizable containing condos, apartments, a business sector, and a large shopping center.
My pursuers were fast approaching. I conducted a major brainstorm, then Voila! I remembered one important event from my recent past.
I decided to dig my way into the ground like a prairie dog, and then sit still for as long as necessary.
I glanced back at my oncoming pursuers, then at the trees and wooded area, just to make sure that I was making the right choice. Then, I ran deep into the open field. With no time to waste I used all of my paws and the muscles and bones in my body to literally build a prairie dog home; a large hole and a tunnel. I had to splash and toss away dirt in all directions thank goodness it only took a short while for me to complete the job.
I leaped into the hole, then partially covered it, just enough to allow me to peek through and not be seen. I was roughly 400 yards distance from the street. My pursuers stopped their vehicles at the exact spot that I ran from. And oh were they intent on catching me. I counted a dozen vehicles, two of which were SWAT Team vans. A whole swarm of people exited the vehicles, intent on hunting me down like a fox, in a literal sense. The mere thought of it still terrifies me.
“Captain Smithson, where did the killer cat run to?”
“Officer Garcia, I know exactly where the killer cat is hiding. I can see him.”
I pooped and peed into the ground. I was so shocked, then, I puked my brains out. I almost slithered out of my ground-hole, paws in the air, literally surrendering. Thankfully, Captain Smithson spoke before I could act.
“Officers, Detective Moreno, the killer cat must be in the wooded area. It’s vast, easy to hide in, and contains many natural escape routes. Officer Garcia, call the canine unit. We need a pair from each of these dog breeds, German shepherd, Golden Retriever, and bloodhound, ASAP, no delay whatsoever. Also tell the dispatcher that Captain Smithson needs more men and women at the scene; any and all officers on weekend or vacation leave must report for duty.
Lastly, call the RCMP. Tell them that we have the killer cat cornered and isolated inside the wooded area on Anderson Street West beside the DODGE construction area. They’ll know what you’re talking about. (Pointing to his right he said) This kitty isn’t the first wanted criminal to escape deep into that wooded area.
All exits must be securely guarded, on one enters or leaves the wooded area without being questioned by me or by a detective working at the scene,” said Captain Smithson.
“Captain, a short while ago you told me you wanted the new recruit, the cat to be part of our apprehension team, remember?”
“Officer Donovan, you have a good memory. I don’t know what happened, I forgot about our new cat recruit. Officer Kitty’s very excited about being part of the apprehension team. Be sure to tell the dispatcher that Officer Kitty has been ordered to the scene by Captain Smithson. I think it’ll be awesome if he arrests the killer cat.
Thereafter, Officer Kitty must be sent off. I don’t think it would be a good idea to burn the killer cat in the presence of Officer Kitty. He may snitch on us,” said Officer Smithson.
I couldn’t understand ... what! A freaking cat! I mean, what a traitor! I was safely entrenched inside the burrowing hole, but atrociously dirty. I couldn’t wait to take a nice shower or bath. My entire body was smeared and engulfed in dirt. Even my eyelids, nostrils, and ears had bits of sand in them.
I cropped up my ears and stayed still until nightfall. The search dogs were used and still, they didn’t find me. I decided to crawl out from the hole to get a better look at what was going on. Captain Smithson had begun to throw a fit.
“What the hell do you mean you couldn’t find him? Damn it! I’m not going back to the station empty handed. Where can that little cockroach be?”
Officer Kitty grinned at Captain Smithson then pointed his paw in what appeared to be in my direction. I thought he knew exactly where I was.
“Captain Smithson, I’ll tell you what, throughout my search I kept telling my fellow officers they weren’t going to find the killer cat. If I was the killer cat I’d run very deep into the open field then I’d hide somewhere therein. Maybe he’s burrowed into the ground. Desperate cats take desperate measures,” said Officer Kitty.
The search dogs converged around Officer Kitty. All that was needed was a go ahead from the Captain. But then, the best thing possible that could’ve happened did happen. In my fear and dismay I didn’t bother to look up at the sky even once since running into the field; dark clouds had covered the entire horizon.
Following three consecutive lightning bolts it began to rain like crazy; how absolutely beautiful. I crawled towards the police to get an even closer look at my pursuers. Visibility was almost zero, however, I was able to see everyone at the scene enter their vehicles and drive off.
Naturally, I was still a bit apprehensive. Perhaps, they were pulling a fast one on me, using special high-powered binoculars to keep their eyes on the area.
Meanwhile, I stood up in order to take advantage of the downpour I took a nice shower. The downpour lasted about 15 minutes, and still there was no one in sight.
Thereafter, I violently shook my body until I was dry. Studying my options I decided to leave the open field. I headed to the wooded area. Staying there for several days was the most viable option.
As soon as I entered the wooded area I located a pre- treaded path. Though it was wet and slightly muddy it was the best that I could find. I strolled through the path for roughly 30 minutes. Considering that my pursuers had already searched the area thoroughly it was unlikely they’d return.
Time had proven me right. I stayed hidden therein for 3 days, strolling through the area, climbing trees, and practicing my pouncing routine.
I exited the wooded area at sunset. This way, I could utilize the darkness to my advantage. I treaded on the shoulder of Anderson Street until I reached the entry ramp into the highway.
Desperation forced me to stand on my hind legs and point my dew claw upwards; hitchhiking was the only way out of the area. Although traffic into the highway had begun to simmer, motorists and their passengers tended to ignore my presence. In an ironic way, that was good news.
Then, a motorist in a dark van stopped beside me. It’s common knowledge amongst animals who hitch rides not to get into a dark van especially at night. This kind of vehicle along with its colour and the fact that it was nightfall almost guarantees danger.
Just then, I noticed a patrol vehicle zooming on the other side of the highway. Although the emergency had nothing to do with me it reinforced the feeling of utter desperation that I felt.
The driver lowered the front passenger window and then stared at me for what seemed like an entire minute. He grinned then waved me over to his vehicle.
I crunched down, bared my teeth and extended my claws, hair spiked, and ready to fight till death if needed. But just then the driver spoke to me. Somehow, it didn’t feel right; I didn’t feel an aura of genuine consideration.
“Hey kitty if you’re going westbound, come on in? I’d hate to see you stand out here all night long. Besides, I don’t have to tell you about all the cat hating motorists out there. Chances are, sooner or later, one or more of them will spot you. Who knows what they’ll do to you.
Please, kitty, I’m not a cat-hating human, really. I’ve got absolutely nothing against your people. C’mon, come in, I really can’t wait too long. Other motorists use this ramp too.”
I turned my gaze to the left taking notice of 3 oncoming vehicles. It was now or never. I had to make up my mind immediately.
I cautiously approached the dark van in order to get a better look at the driver. He was an unattractive white middle- aged man, chubby and scruffy bearded, dressed casually and definitely not very educated. Judging from his voice and physical attributes he’d served time in a maximum security penitentiary for numerous years. For what crime, I didn’t know. Unfortunately, under the prevailing circumstances I had no choice. I decided to enter the vehicle, maintaining myself on yellow alert. If this fellow tried anything funny; the response would be a horrendous barrage of punches, scratches, and bites. There’d be no mercy upon him whatsoever.
I leaped into the van through the open window landing beside the driver. Instantly, I stood on my hind legs and craned my neck. I studied the interior intently making sure that there were no whips, chains, saws, or other tools of torture or sexual deviance. I learned a lot by being around humans almost all my life no one can really blame me for being apprehensive.
The interior of the van smelled like Vodka and orange juice. A weaker, faded scent was that of other hard liquors.
“Hey, kitty, why don’t you buckle up before I continue my drive westward?”
“Huh, oh, okay, I’ll buckle up. Umm, Mister, how far west are you going?”
“Well, kitty, I don’t know. It all depends on how I feel, the weather, and whatever else. But I’ll tell you one thing I’m going at least as far as northwest Saskatchewan. Perhaps I’ll get lucky?”
In man talk I thought he was talking about scoring big with a nice woman; a one-night stand, or something of a sort. But, I was dead wrong on this issue and the man sensed it from my male-to-male grin.
“No, kitty, I’m not talking about that kind of scoring, but well, I do intend to get that too. No, I’m talking about seeing Big Foot in the flesh. I’ve got several pairs of binoculars in my van, and a hunting rifle, handgun, fishing fear, forest clothing, Bowie knife, and other stuff. I’m going to hide out for a while before I settle down.
Kitty, one fugitive to another, I know exactly who you are. You can’t fool an ex-con. You’re the killer cat, right?”
“Huh, no I’m not! And what do you mean ‘ex-con’?”
“Let me formally introduce myself first. My name is Walter Gruber. Do you recognize my name?”
As soon as I was about to answer Walter’s question a motorist behind us began to honk his horn. A moment later, more horns were honked. We forgot about oncoming traffic. Walter shifted his van into DRIVE and then entered the highway.
“Walter, I know who you are. You’re a convicted serial rapist/torturer/killer. But, umm, you were supposed to be serving a 1000 year sentence somewhere in Newfoundland. What happened?”
“Kitty, I did 10 years of hard time in a filthy penitentiary. I was housed in a special isolation block in The Norwalk Psychiatric Penitentiary. You’re right I was sentenced to a 1000 year term. I’m an escapee. I’ve been free for about 3 months now. Don’t worry I don’t hate cats or any other animal species. And I’m not going to harm anyone else either. Spending 10 years in a filthy penitentiary has changed me. I don’t want to go back ever again. I’m going to stay low for at least 5 years. I’ve got everything planned out, money, plastic surgery, a name change, and staying out of trouble.”
“Walter, how did you know that I was the so-called killer cat?”
“I’ve been following your case faithfully. And another thing, I inherently felt that you’re not like what I used to be. You seem to like a good person. I wouldn’t be surprised if you were framed for these heinous crimes.”
“I was. Now, before I explain to you my story, I must formally introduce myself. My name is Citizen Cat. Do you have time to hear my story?”
“Citizen, I sure do. Listen, we have a lot of empty time on our hands. Go slow and easy.”
It took me roughly an hour to convey my entire story, with intimate details too. By the time I’d finished Walter’s hands were shaking.
“Walter, my story couldn’t have been that bad, or was it?”
“Huh, Citizen, what are you talking about?”
“Walter, you’re hands are trembling, and your palms are soaking the steering wheel. I must’ve said something wrong, or did I?”
“No, that’s not it. I loved your story, and for what little it’s worth I do believe you; you’re an innocent cat. I really feel bad about what has and is going to happen to you. Citizen, I’m a terrible person. I hurt many people.”
“Walter, c’mon, I want you to open up to me. Cats are naturally suspicious. How old were you when you committed your first heinous crime?”
“I was 15 years-old and living in Mills Creek Nova Scotia, that’s where I’m originally from. My girlfriend Karen and I left the school dance at 9:30 P.M. We were supposed to be back home no later than 10:30 P.M.
We walked through a nearby park. It was dark and lonely therein. At the time my mind was clear of any anger or tension. Things between Karen and I were nice.
The problem didn’t start until we entered a gazebo and then sat down. Following a brief conversation I put my arm around her. Although she appeared to be shy I didn’t take offence to it. It was only when I tried to kiss her did she push me away and shout NO.
Something inside me just clicked. I mean, I had to kiss her. She just couldn’t say no to me. I felt dehumanized, and de-manned, if I may call it that. I grabbed her arms and pulled her forcefully towards me. She screamed and tried to struggle; images of my father beating my mother because she was a snotty bitch flashed through my mind. I threw Karen on the ground, and well, I became very excited. I went through the act using the utmost force.
Somehow during the act I killed her. I don’t remember exactly how it happened, but kitty, I couldn’t leave her body in the gazebo. Too many witnesses saw us leaving the dance together.
Dragging her body away from the scene and deep into a nearby forested area made me feel like a powerful beast. It gave me a high. I buried Karen deep in the forest, and making sure that no sign of disturbed earth could be detected.
I got away with that killing because there was a serial killer on the loose in eastern Canada. Everyone assumed that it was him. In fact, the police hardly questioned me about Karen’s disappearance. I continued on this path for many years. And you know the rest of the story, I was finally apprehended.
But Citizen, I’m now a better man. I regret hurting anyone. You’re the only one in the whole world whom I can open up to. Following my conviction every single family member and friend that I ever had deserted me. Not a single person showed me any compassion. The regional papers described me as a monster in human disguise.
I want to make amends by helping you. You’re an inherently good person. Please trust me. Although I’d love to be your best friend in the whole world, we both know that being together for too long is a liability for both of us; we’re both wanted by the law.
Citizen, I can give you a ride to western Ontario; thereafter, I’ll drive north. Perhaps it would be better for me than to drive to Saskatchewan or anywhere else. Northern Ontario is secluded enough.”
“Walter, that’s sounds like a swell idea. Let’s continue driving for another hour or so. But then, we’ll have to grab a bite to eat,” okay.
Walter indicated approval by grinning, then nodding his head.
I closed my eyes, falling asleep almost immediately. I was utterly exhausted from being on the run. And still, I wasn’t sure how I’d fare with Walter. He was, after all, a potentially very dangerous person. I hadn’t irritated him yet, nor have I seen him frustrated at anything.
I awakened at 2:00 A.M. following Walter’s nudging my shoulder. I yawned then rubbed my eyes. Walter had just slowed down and then entered into an exit ramp.
“Walter, I must’ve been out cold for more than an hour. What happened?”
“Citizen, I didn’t want to awaken you from your deep sleep.
If it hadn’t been for your diaphragm expanding and contracting I would’ve thought you were dead or something. Thank goodness you weren’t. A sign a few miles back indicated a rest stop containing several eateries. I’m in the mood for a burger, fries, and milk shake meal, how about you?”
“Sounds fine to me Walter; do you want me to pay, or what?” “Oh no, I’m the host here. You’re my guest. How could I charge you for food? Don’t worry I’ve eaten at this drive through before. The food is excellent.”
I was about to say something, but at the last moment I cupped my mouth. How could Walter have been in this rest stop before and what about having eaten here before? Something was odd. But with all the commotion and my hunger, I shrugged it off.
Walter entered the rest stop then headed straight to John’s Burger House. The scent of food emanating from the restaurant was simply mind-boggling. I could almost taste the food in my mouth.
“Citizen, I think it would be a good idea if I ordered our food from the drive thru rather from inside the restaurant.
We’re a couple of wanted fugitives. Chances are someone will recognize us.” I didn’t say anything because what Walter said couldn’t be disputed.
But just as he pressed on the gas pedal he jolted his foot away and then pressed the brake causing me to experience a very mild whiplash-like feeling. Thankfully, neither of us was hurt.
“Citizen, I want you to roll over onto your back then shove part of your paw into your mouth like a little kitten would.”
“Huh, what, no freaking way I’m not a baby, now way I won’t do it!”
“Citizen, please, I don’t want anyone working at the drive thru to recognize us. Although I’m still overweight I’ve lost a considerable amount of weight, changed the color of my hair, and tossed my penitentiary clothing.”
“Oh, sorry Walter, I didn’t see things that way until you made it apparent to me.”
Walter approached the counter and then stopped. A young red-haired, green-eyed bimbo from behind the counter grinned at us and then said, “John’s Burger House, may I take your order.”
“Umm, okay, give us two orders of the monster burger meal, everything extra on both burgers, and a couple of vanilla shakes. Supersize everything, we’re starving,” said Walter.
“Okay, sir, just give me a moment to calculate your tab.
Umm ... that’ll be $ 20.45 please.”
Walter gave the young bimbo the exact amount of the cost and then spoke, “oh, give us several ketchup and pepper packets too, and umm, some mayo packets.” The young bimbo nodded her head and then turned.
A short while later we received our order and the young bimbo thanked us and wished us well. Walter and I were quite happy. Before driving off Walter extended his right arm and then pointed his index finger at several possible locations to eat. The area surrounding the eateries looked like a miniature park. It was beautiful. In fact, deeper into the eating areas were several pre-treaded paths leading into a large beautiful wooded area.
I pointed to a park bench straight ahead of our location.
Walter didn’t say anything he drove to the spot and then parked his van. Walter and I exited the van and walked to the park bench. Walter carried our food. As soon as he placed our food on the park bench I leaped onto my lion’s share and then instinctively pulled it closer to me. I growled, but in a low tone. Walter barely took notice of it. We ate our meal and drank our shakes in delight. A few vehicles drove through the area, but considering how late it was most travellers were sound asleep in motels.
Following our meal Walter put our garbage into a nearby trash can. He and I walked back to the van, entered it and then readied ourselves to continue our drive. Out of the blue Walter recommended that we use the restroom first we’ll be all cleaned up and won’t have to go number one or two sometime soon.
We exited the van then walked to the restrooms. I entered first Walter followed me. It took me roughly 15 minutes to do my thing, clean up and then thoroughly rinse my mouth.
I didn’t see anyone else in the restroom as such I assumed Walter had returned to the van. But he was nowhere in sight. Where could he be? I earnestly wondered.
I waited and waited; it seemed like an eternity. In fact, I was quite worried and bored. I wanted to get back on the highway. Soon I’d realize that my worries were legitimate, my boredom would soon disappear.
As I sat in the van all alone numerous thoughts and doubts concerning Walter began to surface. Wasn’t it quite an ironic coincidence that a dangerous fugitive just happened to be driving by, slow down, and then take time out to offer and then give me a ride?
If I was on the run the last person that I would give a ride to would be a fugitive. And this Walter fellow, he recognized me almost instantly. Why did he open up to me in such a forthcoming a way?
I pondered about these and additional issues. Soon I began to twitch in my seat. I was stunned by the appearance of the young bimbo girl. She exited the