Squeak!
The sound seemed to mesmerize Chad. He stared silently at the green rubber thing in the hand of that annoying
farm boy Buford Cannon. He barely noticed Buford - but that was nothing new. He coiled his hind leg muscles
and leaped upward for his squeaky prize. Buford pulled it out of his reach. His claws hooked into Buford's
shirt, and he clung there batting at the green rubber toy with his right paw.
"Heh, heh, you want the green mouse, Chad? Go git it," Buford said tossing the green object into a nearby
container.
Chad kicked off from Buford's chest vaguely aware that he was now about a tenth the size of a guy who used to
be smaller than him. He was intent on getting that squeaky toy. He darted through the small doorway and into
the small animal carrier. His teeth and paws locked in on the squeaky toy. He froze when he heard the door
behind him being closed and latched from the outside. He immediately started hissing and pounding against his
prison.
"There, there, Chad. Calm down. Now you play with your catnip toy, and relax. I picked you 'cause you are
always pouncing on the ball and tackling opponents in games. You're going to make a right spectacular mouser."
Chad got very silent. He lay down in the carrier with the toy between his paws and meowed loudly once, as if
to say no.
Buford frowned. "Well, if you ever want to be human again, you'll do it. We got a big mouse problem out at
the dairy. Must be over 100 vermin that need killing. You get rid of the mice and rats by Monday, and you'll
be back at school on Tuesday."
Whut? Oh, right, three day weekend, Chad recalled. Mew, he said sweetly.
"Yeah, I thought so. Anyway, weezill be going in minute. I gotta get your clothes. Ya'll need 'em to change
back, an' if ya give us any trouble, they'll go in the incinerator and you'll go to the pound," Buford warned
as he lapsed into his country accent. No use putting on airs for a cat.
Buford put all of Chad's stuff into his oversize duffel bag, and then roughly picked up the animal carrier
causing Chad to yelp. Buford laughed. He tossed the duffel roughly into the back of his old pickup. Then he
opened the passenger door with sign painted on it, "Cannon Dairy Farm". He used the seat belt to restrain
Chad's carrier, closed the door and walked back around to the driver's side.
Once his seat belt was secured, Buford reached over to check on Chad. Then he started the engine, and started
talking.
"Ya know, Chad, I really am your secrit admurer," he said, "I always thought it would be cool to have you
riding in my truck with me, and now ya are." There was a tone of satisfaction and triumph in his voice. He
continued, "Of course, ya ne'er gave me the time of day a'fore, so-in I never 'spected ya to be here. Now
things is goin' be diff'rent though. Ain't they?"
He turned on the radio and listened to some country music while they drove. Chad played with his green rubber
toy. He was more than a little miffed to be a cat, but whether it was the mouse shape, the squeaky sound or
the catnip - he found himself preoccupied with his new toy. He wasn't a big country music fan, and his new
cat hearing found the radio's static and whine annoying. Even more so than he found Buford annoying.
Buford has started talking again, but Chad wasn't paying attention until he heard Buford saying, "As to
sleeping arrangements, ya can sleep on your master's warm dry bed like a good pussy or'en ya can sleep in the
drafty ol' barn with the stinking cows."
Chad thought about the people he knew with cats, and shivered. He'd be expected to curl up in Buford's lap.
Still he wouldn't mind Buford petting him. He wasn't exactly thrilled with the idea of sleeping at the foot
of Buford's bed. Someone would notice he was missing, wouldn't they? Naturally, they'd check out Buford's new
cat to see if he was Chad transformed, Chad thought sarcastically. He whined, it was hopeless. He just would
do what Buford wanted, and Buford would change him back. That was all there was to it.