THE BAD GUYS IN: THE LAST WISH

Puss's new life and friend

It was crunchy and disgusting, just as he expected. But it was food.

By day three, Puss was miserable and resigned to his fate. He waited for the litter box, just like the other cats.

As the kibble was poured, Puss assimilated and ate it, just like the rest of the colony. His transformation into a fully bearded, scruffy house cat was complete. He was miserable, but alive.

While eating the kibble, Puss noticed a tail next to him wagging quite overzealously. Puss looked up, irritated. He brushed the tail out of his face.

Do you mind? I'm trying to eat here," Puss said. I mean, meow-whatever"

The tail-owner looked up, but it wasn't a cat at all. It was a dog.

A tiny, teacup mutt in a filthy sweater, pretending to be a cat with broom bristles for whiskers and a feather duster for a tail!

"Sorry," the dog said. Then it sunk in. "Oh, oh, oh! You're a talking cat? I'm a talking cat! Let's talk!" Puss sighed.

"I'd rather eat," he said.

"Not a problem!" replied the dog. He took a mouthful of kibble and sputtered, "We can eat and talk at the same time!"

"No hablo Inglés," Puss muttered.

"Hablas Español? Yo también! De donde eres? Te gusta las siestas?"

"I don't speak Spanish either."

"Ha! You're funny," replied the dog.

Puss sighed again. "Okay, good talk." He motioned to walk away, but the dog was too quick. He parted Puss's beard to find the "Pickles" tag.

"Oh, hang on! Pickles? Is that your name? Me, I don't have a name. Or a home . . . so I'm no expert. But you don't look like a Pickles."

Puss knew that the dog must have been adoptable and homeless for some time, but he didn't care. "Well, you don't look like a cat," Puss pointed out.

This made the dog look anxious. "Okay, okay, full disclosure-I'm not a cat. I'm a dog. I live under the porch. It can get a little lonely down there. It's mostly controlled by the rats and the centipedes, but I have my own little corner."

"Congratulations," Puss said.

"I just come up here for the food and the friends." As the dog said that, the cats hissed at him.

"Okay, so, mostly the food. Please don't tell anyone. I need this!"

"I won't tell. I don't care," Puss replied.

"So, you'll keep my secret? A secret between friends?" the dog pleaded.

"Just a secret," said Puss.

"It's funny. Despite all this best-friend bonding, you're still a mystery to me, Pickles. What's your story?"

"My story?" Puss repeated. Of all the things that had happened, this angered him most.

"My story is over!"

The dog considered how dark this was for a second.

Then he came up with a solution to pivot from Puss's dramatics. "Wanna rub my belly?" He sat back on his haunches and slowly hiked up his sweater, revealing a pudgy puppy belly.

"Hard pass," Puss muttered.

The dog told Puss that he needed the practice. He aspired to be a therapy dog one day.

"When people feel bad, they should rub my belly. It'll make them feel better!"

Then, squaring his eyes on Puss, he repeated, "go ahead, rub my belly."

"No.'

"C'mon. Rub it!"

"No. Not happening," Puss hissed.

"Rub it!"

"No. Let me be clear. I don't want to touch your belly. Okay?"

Puss ran up a cat tower and laid down in the hammock. He'd already been humiliated enough.

"Okey doke. So, what do you want?" the dog asked.

Puss kicked off his bottom booties as he settled into the hammock.

What did he want? He couldn't go back to being the legend he once was, but perhaps Puss couldn't resign himself to this fate as well as he thought he could.

Was this really all that was left for him?
Finally, Puss said simply.

"I want to be left alone." The dog curled up at the base of the cat tower.

Back in Del Mar, the Three Bears Crime Family would prove an obstacle for Puss's plans.

They had heard of the fight with the sleeping giant and came because they had business with the legendary feline.

The three bears - Mama Bear, Papa Bear, and Baby Bear-lumbered through the streets searching for Puss.

Atop Mama Bear rode a blond-haired girl holding a big shepherd's staff: Goldilocks.

"You got the scent?" Goldilocks asked Mama Bear.

She was looking at the footprints of a chicken, but they seemed too small.

And then she saw a massive footprint from the giant, but that seemed too big.

Finally, Goldilocks squared in on some of Puss's boot prints. She added it suspiciously.

"But these ones . .. these ones are just right."

Goldilocks and the three bears went to track that cat.