Disclaimer: Garfield and all related characters are the intellectual property of Paws Inc and Paramount Global/Nickelodeon at the time this story was written.
Chapter 6: Adopting One, Escaping Another
Two Hours Earlier…
*KNOCK KNOCK*
"Jon!?"
…
*KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK*
…
"Jon!? Are you home!?"
…
*BANG BANG BANG*
Liz slams her fists into the door, growing more and more worried and impatient with every little second that passes by without an answer.
"Jon! It's Liz!" The woman calls out.
*BANG BANG BANG*
"Open this door!"
*BANG BANG*
…
"Please."
…
…
*CREEEEEEEEAK*
Finally, the door slowly opens, much to her relief. However, her relieved look wouldn't last for very long, for as soon as the man inside reveals himself to her…
…her eyes became petrified by the sight in front of them.
Jon looked like he'd hadn't eaten, let alone switched clothes, for days, and his hair was unkempt. But the most shocking thing her eyes witnessed were the scars on his face, clearly caused by a cat…
…by Garfield.
That's when it all dawned on her…
…the diet…
Naturally, Garfield wouldn't take such a strict diet very well, but neither of them knew he'd go this far just to avoid it.
That's why he ran away!
"Jon!?" Liz asks, gravely concerned. "A-Are you…okay?"
"No." Jon barley lets out a whisper. "No, I'm not…
…and I never will be…
…never again."
"Oh, Jon." The veterinarian gently places her hand on his scratched face. "I'm so sorry."
"Liz, what are you even doing here?" The cartoonist asks, wanting to retreat back into his dreams and forget all his troubles as soon as possible.
"Jon, haven't you been watching the news?" Liz asks. "Garfield and Odie were being chased by a man who thinks is a dog!"
"What!?" Jon asks, flabbergasted by what just came out of her mouth. "Stop messing around with me, Liz, especially not right now, or ever again, for that matter!"
"It's true, Jon!" The veterinarian insists. "Look!" She pulls out her phone, playing the video that was posted online just moments prior.
*ARF ARF ARF* The man continuously barks, struggling to escape the grip of the crowd as he's being hauled away to the proper authorities.
"Okay, so I'm here on Main Street where some crazy guy was chasing after a couple helpless animals here just a few minutes ago as he cornered them right here in this alley, and it's a good thing we managed to save these two animals, cause I would hate to think about what would've happened to them, but they're safe now, so we don't need to think about that." The vlogger explains, briefly zooming his camera at the orange cat and yellow dog. "Peace out, my friends, and don't forget to like and subscribe to my channel. Bye!"
As the replay icon appears on her phone, Liz turns her attention back to Jon, who's eyes became as wide as that of a frog.
"Uhhh…Jon?" The veterinarian asks, concerned by her friend's lack of a response. "You still in there, buddy?"
"What…how…when…WHY!?" Jon blurts out, flabbergasted by what he just saw.
"See what I mean? Your pets need you, Jon." The veterinarian insists. "And you need them just as much as they do."
The cartoonist pauses as he ponders to himself. On one hand, that ungrateful bastard of a cat made his face draw out blood, and he knows that he'll just do it again the next time he's inevitably put on a diet…
…but on the other hand, Garfield is his cat, no matter how sour things get between them from time to time, and it wouldn't be fair to Odie if he had to suffer for something he didn't do. He was simply being there for his friend, like any loyal friend would do…
…and what loyal friend would he be if he wasn't willing to do the same.
Now, without any hesitation, he knew what he had to do next.
Present Time…
Garfield catches his breath whilst hiding behind the living room sofa, the crazy old lady hunting him down with a group of her loyal cats, and the metal bat clenched in her grip. All the entrances and windows to the house are blocked off to ensure that none of the cats who were brought inside by the old lady can ever escape, essentially trapping them here forever.
"*SIGH* Just my luck." Garfield said to himself, unsure of how long he can remain hidden behind the couch before being spotted. "All I wanted was some lasagna, and now this crazy old broad wants to use my blood as tomato sauce! I need to find some way out of here…and fast!"
"Psst! Over here." A voice whispers.
"Huh? Who said that?" The cat asks, his eyes gazing around to find the source of the noise.
"I said over here, stupid!" The voice said louder, causing the cat to look down and stare at the brown mouse trying to talk to him.
"Sorry, didn't see you there." Garfield apologizes.
"Eh, no big deal." The mouse shrugs. "You're new around here, aren't ya?"
"Yeah." Garfield replies. "This lady invited me over for dinner, but I'm starting to think I've overstayed my welcome."
"I see." The mouse said.
"Say, do you know a way out of this crazy asylum?" The cat asks.
"Sure, I slip out whenever things get a little too crazy in this joint." The mouse replies. "Follow me."
Urging the cat to follow, the mouse quietly leads him to a nearby air vent hidden from plain sight behind a cushy chair.
"Alright, big fella, you gotta use those claws of yours to open this vent here, and the fresh air will be waitin' for ya." The mouse explains.
"Well…okay." Garfield said, drawing out his claws as the mouse crawls inside the vent.
"Fluffy!" The old woman calls out as she heads back into the living room. "Where are you, my sweet, little Fluffy!?"
"Hurry it up, cat!" The mouse insists. "She's comin' back!"
"I'm trying here, damnit!" Garfield angrily said, attempting to twist open the screws holding the vent onto the wall with his claws. "Ow!" He shouts in pain, pulling his claw out of the screw.
"Oh, Fluffy!" The lady calls out again, getting closer to their hiding spot.
"Alright, screw this!" The cat grabs a random hairpin from the nightstand and manages to twist the screws out of the vent. "Got it!"
"Great, now get in here already!" The mouse shouts.
Garfield rushes straight into the vent…
"OOF!"
…only for his large butt to get stuck on the wall separating the vents from the rest of the house.
"Uggh! Just great." The cat groans in frustration, trying to squeeze his butt through the vent. "HURRRRRRRR!"
"Oh, for the love of-" The mouse rolls his eyes, grabbing Garfield's paw and pulling it to help him get his entire body inside. Finally, the cat manages to squeeze his butt through the hole, allowing him to make his escape.
"This way!" The mouse points the cat in the right direction as they both proceed to make their way through the inner workings of the house.
As the elderly woman and her cats scour the entire living room, one of them spots the open vent behind the chair, her nose picking up a fresh scent coming from within as she proceeds to enter it.
Odie wakes up tucked under the warmth of a blue blanket, one that feels similar to the one Garfield usually sleeps under all day (minus the pizza sauce, of course). Upon regaining his vision, he finds himself being transferred across a hallway, his ears picking up what sounds like a set of squeaky wheels rolling across a carpet, like the ones found on a trolley. Looking down from his resting spot, the dog's eyes widen in surprise…
*GASP*
…for he's indeed resting on an actual trolley.
"Shhhhhhh! Quiet!" Becky shushes the confused canine.
"What was that, dear?" Her father asks.
"Oh, uhhh…it's nothing, father." She replies. "Just having a serious talk with my dolly."
"Alright." Her father said, skeptical of his daughter's claim. He's definitely going to have a word with her regarding her increasingly odd behavior. "Now you run along and play, my dear, while I check the stock market."
"Okay, bye father!" Becky bids farewell to her sole parent as he heads over to his work desk and closes the door. "Phew, that was close." She whispers, wiping off the sweat from her forehead as she heads over to her room with the trolley.
Garfield follows the mouse as they make their way through the house's entire ventilation system.
"You know, these vents are a lot smaller than I thought." The cat said, finding himself having to squeeze his way through the small space.
"You've been watching way too many movies, pal." The mouse said. "Life doesn't always work that way."
"Yeah, I kinda figured." Garfield said, recounting the numerous times he's received a reality check throughout his life. "So, what's a mouse like you doing livin' in a crazy place like this?"
"What else? Food and shelter." The smaller critter replies. "And it sure beats shivering out there in the cold, that's for sure."
"Yeah…unless you have a real crappy owner." Garfield grumbles.
The mouse suddenly stops in his tracks, turning his head over to him.
"Come again?" He asks.
"I said it sure is nice to have a nice home, unless, of course, your owner is a real pile of-"
"Stop." The mouse interrupts him. "Do you have any idea how lucky you were to even have a home to begin with?"
"Yeah yeah, unless said home strips you of what little freedom you have, and only has celery, carrots, and green peas on the menu." The cat explains.
"Better than eating literal crap from the cans, I'll tell ya that." The mouse said, continuing forward along the vents. "At least you still had a roof to sleep under, and not under a crumpled-up newspaper in the rain."
"And I assume that's why you're still here with that whack job?" Garfield asks.
"Yeah." The mouse nods his head. "Besides, she makes the best quesadillas."
"Gotcha." Garfield said. "*SIGH* Maybe I have been a little rough on Jon."
"I take it you ain't really a big fan of humans, aren't ya?" The mouse asks.
"I mean, what's there to really like about them?" The cat then asks him. "They're always yellin', hurtin' each other, and are never content with the simple things in life, unlike us cats."
"Let me tell ya somethin', cat." The mouse begins. "There are many of us animals that don't nearly have it as lucky as you do, and that's because the humans don't exactly take us very well, whether it be a big, wild bear, or a small, disease-infested mouse like me. Cats, on the other hand, boy, you guys sure are lucky! These humans will do anything to give you what you want, whether it's food, shelter, your own scratching post, or even catnip! Because, for whatever reason…
…they love you fellas the most."
"Yeah, I know." Garfield said. "But I wouldn't necessarily consider having it lucky when said human makes you eat something you hate all week."
"Well, what would you rather eat then? Mice?"
"Nothing personal, but YUCK!" The cat sticks his tongue out in disgust.
"Yeah, I kinda figured." The mouse shrugs, knowing full well that's why he isn't being digested inside his stomach by now. "Look pal, you can't really be such a picky eater when you can't even choose who you're livin' with. Hell, I consider myself lucky to even find a place where I can swipe good food by the load, regardless of all the cats that live here. And you know why, 'cause all those other guys out there in the streets have stomachs that're rumblin' by the day, 'cause other than the junkyard, they ain't got nowhere else to find food. You had it real easy before you ran away, whereas all of us would trade places with you in a split second! You know how insanely hard it is for a mouse, or even a stray cat, just to even survive!?"
That's when a distant memory suddenly flashes right back into the forefront of the cat's mind…
…a memory of a friend…
…or rather, a friend he once had…
"I'm a mouse! It's a freaking miracle if I can even find a small piece of cheese out here! You cats have it good! You have human owners who love you, feed you, and provide you with a nice, comfy bed and shelter to sleep in during the night, while us mice have to scavenge every trash can we can find for any leftovers just to survive!"
…and that's when the orange feline had a sudden realization…
…in his own selfishness, he nearly became a homeless scavenger…
…no better than the Claws, no less.
Throughout the years, Jon proved his loyalty to Garfield…
…especially when he served him lasagna.
…and he just threw it all in his face, like a blueberry pie filled with raisins on it.
And Odie…
…the dog who's just as loyal as Jon, if not moreso…
…his best friend…
…out there…
…alone…
…no doubt shivering to survive to shield himself from the cold, night winds…
…and certainly hungry, most likely fighting off mice just to get even a peck of food out there.
Wherever he is…
…he must find him…
…he must reunite with Jon…
…and most importantly…
…he must head home!
For home is where they understand him.
"Uh…cat, you still with me here?" The mouse asks, snapping his fingers in front of his face.
"Huh? Y-Yeah, I'm good." Garfield replies. "Let's just get out of here. I've got an owner, and a best friend, to head back to."
"That's the spirit." The mouse smiles. "We're almost there."
And with that, the two animals continue their trek across the ventilation system, the fresh smell of freedom awaiting Garfield on the other side.