My day started just like any other in the shadowy and mysterious city of Shadevale. The sky, as usual, was covered in a thick mist that filtered between the old stone buildings, making the cobbled streets seem alive with every step. I was on my way to the Central Office of the CRT (Cat Recovery Team) when the familiar sound of the reception phone pulled me out of my thoughts.
"Good morning, CRT. How can I help you?" Mrs Elena’s voice, sweet yet firm, always brought a sense of order amid the chaos.
I knew my day was about to get more interesting when I saw her frown while jotting down details in her leather notebook. I approached the counter, and she looked up, her eyes filled with that mix of worry and determination that meant only one thing: a new case.
"We have a new assignment, dear," she said as she handed me an envelope. "Rocky, Mrs. Johnson's cat, has gone missing again. You know the drill."
I took the envelope and opened it, revealing a photograph of Rocky, a orange tabby cat with bright green eyes and a mischievous air. Mrs. Johnson, his owner, was a regular client of the CRT; Rocky had the annoying habit of running off as soon as someone left the door ajar.
"Where do I start?" I asked, though I already knew the answer.
"The last sighting was around Shadevale Park. A neighbor saw him snooping near some trash bins. You need to be quick; Mrs. Johnson is very worried."
I nodded, tucking the photo into my pocket, and headed for the door. Shadevale Park was just a few blocks away from the Central Office, and if Rocky was in his usual exploring mood, I wouldn’t have much time before he decided to move on.
Shadevale Park is as mysterious as its name suggests. As I got closer, I could see the mist swirling over the hedges and the ancient statues that decorated the park. The shadows of the trees seemed to move, as if something more than the wind was playing among the branches.
Upon arrival, I started by scanning the area for clues. The trash bins mentioned by Mrs Elena were near the park entrance, beside a coffee shop that had seen better days. It was a perfect spot for an escapist cat like Rocky: far enough from crowds and full of hiding places.
"Come on, Rocky, where have you gotten yourself into this time?" I murmured to myself as I crouched to inspect the tracks in the wet ground near the bins.
There, in the mud, I saw a series of cat tracks, disordered but recent. I followed the trail, which wove through the park’s bushes. Whenever the tracks disappeared, I stopped and listened, hoping for any hint of movement.
The park was strangely silent, making every crunch and rustle of leaves even more unsettling. I stayed alert, remembering the stories the people of Shadevale told about this place. They said that on the darkest nights, the park had a life of its own, and it wasn’t just the flora and fauna that lived there.
Finally, after a few minutes of searching, I heard a faint noise, like something metallic hitting the ground. I moved towards the sound, coming from a dark corner of the park, behind a weathered marble statue.
There, at the foot of the statue, was Rocky. He was crouched, focused on rummaging through an overturned bin, searching for food scraps. His green eyes sparkled with that glint of cleverness that always made me smile.
"Ah, Rocky! Do you know the scare you’ve given your owner?" I exclaimed as I approached slowly.
The cat looked up at me, sizing me up. I knew if I moved too quickly, Rocky might run away, so I opted for caution. I knelt and extended a hand towards him, speaking in a soft, calm voice.
"Come on, buddy. Let’s go home."
Rocky tilted his head, as if considering the offer, but before he could take a step towards me, something in the shadows caught his attention. In the blink of an eye, he leaped into a nearby bush, disappearing into the darkness.
"Rocky, wait!" I shouted, but it was too late.
I didn’t have time to waste. I knew if I didn’t follow Rocky immediately, I could lose his trail completely. I quickly got up and headed towards where I had seen him disappear. The bush formed part of a maze of shrubs, a peculiar feature of Shadevale Park that made it both a place of entertainment and a challenge.
As I entered the maze, I noticed the mist growing denser, and the air colder. The shrub walls were high and narrow, increasing the feeling of claustrophobia. I could hear my own footsteps echoing off the stone ground, but no sign of Rocky.
I walked cautiously, using every bit of information I had. I knew Rocky, despite being a born escape artist, was also a curious cat, and he wouldn’t be able to resist exploring every corner of this place. As I moved forward, I encountered several dead ends, small clearings within the maze where there was nothing but silence and shadows.
In one of those clearings, something caught my eye: a small smudge of mud on a stone, as if something or someone had slipped. I crouched to examine it and noticed a few orange tabby hairs stuck to the mud. It was the evidence I needed to know I was on the right path.
I continued through the maze, turning left and then right, following any trace I could find. Every time I thought I was getting close, it seemed Rocky managed to slip a little further away. It was as if the park was playing a game with me, hiding the cat in its web of winding paths.
Finally, I came to a fork in the maze. To my left, a path that narrowed so much I could barely fit without scraping my arms on the branches. To the right, a wider passage that seemed to lead to an exit. I had to make a decision.
I stopped, closed my eyes, and tried to imagine what Rocky would do. A cat with his agility and small size would probably take the narrower path. But, on the other hand, maybe Rocky knew I was following him and would choose the easier exit.
Time was ticking, and I couldn’t afford to hesitate. I chose the narrow path, pushing the branches aside as I moved forward. As I did, the sound of a soft meow reached my ears. It was Rocky! He was close.
I quickened my pace, not worrying about the branches scratching my arms. At the end of the narrow path, the maze opened into a small clearing, and there was Rocky, curled up next to an old wooden bench, nonchalantly licking his paw.
"Gotcha, Rocky," I whispered, this time without trying to get too close too quickly.
Rocky looked at me, his tail lazily swishing from side to side. He seemed almost pleased to see me, as if this whole thing had been a game for him. I knelt and took out a small paper ball that I always carried for these situations. I rolled it gently towards him, knowing Rocky couldn’t resist.
The cat watched the ball for a second before getting up and pouncing on it. I took the opportunity and, in a quick but gentle move, picked him up. Rocky protested briefly, but then calmed down, as if accepting his fate.
"Time to go home, little escape artist," I said as I got up and began the journey back out of the maze.
With Rocky safely in my arms, the return trip to Mrs. Johnson’s house was peaceful. The city of Shadevale, with its cobbled streets and old buildings, seemed less daunting now that I had left the Shadevale Park behind. The mist was slowly clearing, and the dim streetlights lit our way.
I arrived at Mrs. Johnson’s house, a small brick cottage surrounded by a well-tended garden. The lights were on, and I could see Mrs. Johnson’s silhouette through the window, pacing back and forth with evident worry.
I rang the doorbell, and almost immediately, the door opened. Mrs. Johnson, a small woman with gray hair and anxious eyes, looked at me with hope.
"Did you find him?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly.
I smiled and showed her Rocky, who was now wriggling gently in my arms, trying to get free. Mrs. Johnson’s expression turned to one of pure relief.
"Oh, my dear Rocky!" she exclaimed, taking the cat in her arms and hugging him tightly. "Thank you, young man. I don’t know what I would do without him."
"Rocky has an adventurous spirit," I commented as Mrs. Johnson petted her cat, who was now purring contentedly. "But it seems he always finds his way back home."
"Yes, he’s always been like that," Mrs. Johnson sighed, looking at Rocky with affection. "But every time he escapes, I fear that one day he won’t come back."
Mrs. Johnson offered me a cup of tea, which I accepted gratefully. As we sat in her cozy living room, we chatted about Rocky and his many adventures. The house, with its old furniture and black-and-white photographs of past times, had a warm and comforting atmosphere that contrasted with the unease I had felt in the park.
After a while, I said my goodbyes to Mrs. Johnson, assuring her that the CRT would always be available if Rocky decided to embark on another adventure. She thanked me again and wished me a good night as she closed the door behind me.
Back at the Central Office of the CRT, Mrs Elena greeted me with a smile.
"Did you find him?" she asked, although the answer was already obvious.
"Yes, Rocky is safely back home," I replied, sitting down in front of her desk.
Mrs Elena nodded, satisfied. "Good job, dear. But don’t relax too much; in Shadevale, there’s always something else to do."
I smiled, knowing she was right. The city of Shadevale would always have a new mystery waiting to be discovered. And as long as cats kept running away, I would be there to find them and bring them back home.