Chapter 3: Grandma’s Meltdown and the Showdown

Grandma was shoved and staggered.

The fish seller lady quickly caught her and whispered, “That’s so-and-so’s kid, just back to visit his dad. We can’t afford to cross him. I’ll help you wipe it, just let it go…”

Grandma’s eyes blazed. “Let it go? How could I let this go!”

“His dog dirtied my bike—how is that okay? Is there any justice in the world? I don’t care who his father is!”

Grandma took a step forward, tripped over her own foot, and plopped down in front of the man, slapping her legs and wailing.

“Help! Bullying an old lady in broad daylight! My head hurts, my legs hurt, everything hurts! I can’t breathe…”

She pulled the classic Grandma move—full-on parking lot meltdown, wailing like she’d just lost her spot at bingo.

Her age card caught the man off guard.

Grandma’s acting was Oscar-worthy—a masterclass in Hollywood dramatics. You’d think she was up for a Lifetime Achievement Award. The way she flailed and moaned, it was half soap opera, half Jerry Springer showdown.

A crowd quickly gathered, whispering and pointing at the man.

Grandma thumped her chest, righteously declaring, “I’m an honest person, not one for many words.”

“You clean my bike wheels, and we’re even.”

The man’s pride took a hit—his face turned red and white. He gritted his teeth. “You shameless old hag.”

The dumb dog barked and lunged, straining at the leash.

“Trying to scam me? You picked the wrong guy!”

In a rage, he let go of the leash.

The fierce dog shot forward like a wild horse, tongue lolling, growling, and lunged at Grandma.

“Hey! Hey! Hey!”

Grandma scrambled up, left foot tripping over right, right foot tripping over left, stumbling back as fast as she could. “I was wrong! I take it back! I’m just an old lady, not much to say!”

Everything happened so fast—the crowd scattered in panic. Some folks leapt up on crates, others ducked behind pickup trucks, the whole market in a frenzy.

The crowd gasped as I launched myself, the smell of hot asphalt and fried onions sharp in my nose. Seeing the dumb dog about to bite Grandma’s arm, I dashed in, squeezing through the crowd.

I aimed at its head, leaped up like a cannonball, and delivered a flying kick—karate style—right to its face, cow manure and all.

The dumb dog took my Mighty Power Leg, let out a miserable howl, and was knocked nearly two feet away, even though I was only a third its size.

Strike while the iron’s hot.

I spun around and followed up with my manure-coated Shadowless Whiskers Punch, thwacking it right on the head, determined to give it a full facial of cow manure.

“Awooo-woof!”

It howled miserably. My enchanted moves made it cry.

“Meow meow!”

It barked, I meowed—my voice was thin, but I had all the drama of a Broadway star weeping under an oak tree.

The dumb dog yelped and ran away, tail tucked between its legs.

I chased it a bit farther, just to be sure Grandma was safe.

The crowd, who’d just been panicking, now erupted in cheers.

“Whoa, a jazz cat! Top-tier cat combat skills! That kick was insane!”

“You don’t get it—it’s risking its life to save her. It knows it can’t win if it keeps fighting, but it wins on guts. Cats just act tough!”

“Hey, I thought it was all white, but look—there’s a black patch on its chin. Is this a cow cat?”

“The first thing it did after chasing the dog was check on Grandma. Once it saw she was okay, it kept chasing the dog, just in case. What a brave and clever cat!”

...

Surrounded by everyone’s praise, people started snapping photos on their phones.

Tiny me stood by Grandma’s side, chin held high.

That’s right! I am the legendary Whiskers the Brave, the cow cat!

Grandma and I stared at each other.

She finally broke into a smile, eyes crinkling with laughter, both surprised and delighted. She patted my furry head. “Whiskers, from now on, you’re Grandma’s Whiskers.”