Chapter 6 – The Old Photograph and the Owl
Leisurely days returned once more. As the "master" of Peggy, the little princess of the Carter family, Garfield held an exceptionally high status. Fresh milk delivered by servants, steaks, pork chops, grilled fish…
There were even maids assigned specifically to massage him. Garfield, however, did not like their technique. None of their hands were as soft as Peggy's.
Occasionally, while patrolling the Carter estate, Garfield would run into Old James Carter—the current head of the Carter family—walking his hunting dog. The first time the orange cat and the old gentleman met, James Carter had worried that his hound, Carl, might hurt Garfield.
What he never expected was that Carl not only didn't attack Garfield, but obediently crouched down, waiting for Garfield to extend a paw and pat his head. The dog's tail wagged even more enthusiastically than when he saw James Carter himself.
As the master of the master of this estate, Garfield believed that, as the mighty "Meow Emperor," he should possess sufficient majesty. So on the second night after his triumphant return—having relearned his magic—he conducted a series of intimate and friendly "interactions" with the estate's cats, dogs, horses, cattle, sheep, and pigeons under the cover of darkness.
With overwhelming charm (and force), he successfully demonstrated just how imposing Garfield I truly was, causing all the little friends to declare their submission beneath his imperial paws.
"All right, Knight Carl. I acknowledge your loyalty."
"Woof."
"Continue patrolling our kingdom with Lord James."
"Woof woof."
"You are not permitted to lick me, understood? Heavens… forget it. A woof-star clearly cannot remember imperial instruction."
Giving up on the debate over whether Carl was allowed to lick him, Garfield waved at Old Carter.
"Morning, old man."
Of course, in James Carter's eyes, all Garfield's grand speech amounted to nothing more than a string of meows.
There was no possibility of true linguistic exchange. Yet perhaps sensing something, Old James Carter still nodded.
"Morning, Garfield."
Man and cat passed by one another, each heading their own way.
The longer Garfield stayed with the Carter family, the more he learned—and the more mysterious they seemed. Peggy's grandfather wasn't even fifty yet and had already reached the rank of general. Peggy's father also served in the military, though Garfield couldn't quite understand his exact position due to his limited knowledge. Still, the strange creatures and plants sketched across the documents Peggy's father occasionally brought home clearly told Garfield this family was far from ordinary.
What excited Garfield most was confirming the current year: 1925.
The First World War had already ended. Europe was developing rapidly. They believed peace had arrived—but not quite. The truly devastating war was still ahead.
As for the future Second World War, Garfield felt it was still far away. Living leisurely day by day suited him just fine.
But not wanting to meet trouble does not mean trouble stays away. It will find you, wrap itself around you, and refuse to let go.
This trouble was not aimed at Garfield himself, but at his adorable little pooper-scooper, Peggy, and her family. As the king of the Carter estate, Garfield believed he had the responsibility to protect his territory and his subjects. Therefore, he felt it necessary to intervene.
It all began during one of his routine patrols of the estate—arguing and bickering with Pandora as usual. That morning, the sky was dull and overcast, threatening rain.
Upon waking, Garfield achieved a glorious victory: three eggs, a large chunk of bread, and an entire pot of milk disappeared into the belly of a single orange cat—leaving the butler, Phillips, staring in utter disbelief at how such a mountain of food could vanish into such a small creature.
Licking his paw, Garfield presented Phillips with the dignified back of a king before setting off on his daily duty of digesting and patrolling his domain.
"Garfield, you've completely turned yourself into a cat, haven't you? That post-meal paw-licking was so natural."
"I simply value cleanliness. And besides, Pandora, you lick your paws too."
"Nonsense. I am the noble Dark Sovereign, Lady Pandora."
"Still won't admit it? Just the day before yesterday, when my little pooper-scooper was giving me a bath—"
"That was your illusion."
"Admit it."
"I refuse."
"Hahaha."
"You're annoying."
╭(╯^╰)╮
Everything seemed normal.
Garfield passed beneath a twenty-two-year-old blonde maid named Anna. Out of habit, he glanced upward.
"Oh my—scared this cat half to death. It's completely dark!"
"Perverted cat, at it again."
"That was pure coincidence."
"Just admit it."
"I refuse."
They switched roles mid-argument.
Amid the bickering, Garfield wandered near the Carter family's study. Normally, he would pass straight by, giving Old Carter his privacy. But the conversation drifting from inside caught his attention.
"Have you found her?"
"Sorry, Father. Not yet."
"That's impossible. Such a capable person can't simply disappear—and someone with that kind of ability cannot remain ordinary forever."
"The truth is, she's vanished. Perhaps she isn't in Britain. Captain Steve isn't British either. Could she have gone to America?"
"Has anyone searched Greece? She said she came from there."
"The department sent many people, Father. No such girl was found. She was only recognized when Captain Steve brought her to Britain by ship."
Captain Steve?
Her?
Greece?
That sounded strangely familiar.
Garfield halted, craning his head toward the study. With his extraordinary eyesight, he saw that James Carter was holding an old photograph. From Garfield's position at the doorway, he had a clear view of both Old James Carter and Peggy's father, Young James Carter.
"Garfield, why did you stop?" Pandora asked.
"I think I've stumbled upon something remarkable."
"What?"
"Not sure yet. I'm going in."
As a Dark Sovereign, Pandora was naturally fond of excitement. Tugging at the fur atop Garfield's head, she urged him on.
"Hurry up! This Sovereign is curious what could possibly stir the heart of a lecherous cat like you."
"It's curiosity."
"What could a perverted cat be curious about if not women?"
"I have no interest in you."
"I'll bite you."
"Ow! That hurts—easy!"
At some point, part of Pandora's power had awakened. She could now bite directly at Garfield's soul—though the drawback was that she felt the pain as well.
Step by step.
Soft, padded paws pressed against the carpeted floor of the study without making a sound. Garfield quietly approached Old James Carter from behind and widened his eyes to examine the aged black-and-white photograph in his hands.
In front of a ruined church, surrounded by broken walls and scattered debris, stood a woman clad in armor. She wore a thick cloak, held a shield in her left hand and a sword in her right. Beside her were several men dressed in First World War military uniforms.
That familiar, beautiful face—
It was unmistakably one of his wife, Wonder Woman.
Crack—
Thunder split the sky.
Garfield glanced outside. The once merely dark sky had burst into sudden rain. A bird flew in from above and landed on the windowsill.
It was an owl.
Even more astonishing, clutched in its talons was a letter.