Purrfect Baby. Purrfect Mess. Purrfect Fuzz. Purrfect Love. Purrfect Paris

“Yes, take us to the dog park,” Little Janine chimed in. “I’ve heard good things about the dog park. Not that I expect it to be up to our usual standards, but at least it’s something.”

“And better than these utterly useless trees and these tired old lampposts,” her friend added.

“You don’t like our trees?” I asked. “Or our lampposts?”

“No, we don’t,” said Little Janine with a tilt of the head.

“They smell funny,” said Little John, making a face.

“I can tell that the dogs that use this street have absolutely no breeding.”

“No breeding at all. Street mutts, one and all.”

“In other words, common folk. Probably inbred, too.”

The two dogs shared a smirk, then tugged at their respective leashes.

“To the dog park, please!” said Little John. “And be quick about it!”

“Yes, we haven’t got all day!” Little Janine added.

“What do they want?” asked Odelia, not bothering to stifle a yawn.

“They want to go to the dog park,” I said.

“They don’t like our street,” said Dooley.

“Too dirty and too common and populated with inbred mutts.”

“Oh,” said Odelia, then sighed. “Fine. I guess we’re going to the dog park.”

And since we needed to have a chat with her anyway, we decided to tag along.

“Is it true that your human was fired from his job?” asked Dooley, addressing Little Janine. “Only, a friend of ours told us about it, and now we were wondering if he’s going to stay here or go back to England and look for another job?”

“Fired? Puh-lease,” said Little Janine. “People like Big John don’t get fired—they’re the ones doing the firing.”

“So you better watch out, little one,” said Little John. “Or he’ll fire you!”

They had a good laugh about that, even though I didn’t think it was all that funny.

“They can’t fire us,” said Dooley, “cause we’re leaving.”

“Leaving?” said Little Janine. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, just let them,” said Little John. “We’re better off without them anyway.”

“Yes, but who’s going to make sure we get the right kind of food? And who’s going to tell Odelia where to take us and when? We need them as translators.”

“I’m not your translator,” I said. “Where did you get that idea?”

“Oh, but you are,” said Little Janine. “Of course you are. Didn’t you know? You two work for us. And so does Odelia. In fact your whole family now works for us. Because Big John is Prime Minister, and that means he’s in charge of everything.”

“Just England,” I pointed out. “Over here he’s in charge of nothing at all.”

“And since he was fired, he’s not even in charge of his own country anymore,” Dooley added.

This seemed to cause the twosome a measure of concern. But they quickly rallied.“Like I said, Big John doesn’t get fired,” Little Janine insisted. “He’s the big honcho, and big honchos never get fired. Ever.”

“What are you guys talking about?” asked Odelia with a tired smile.

“Oh, this and that,” I said. She probably didn’t need to know that Big John’s dogs considered her their personal slave. She had enough to deal with as it was.

We’d almost reached the park when we bumped into Kurt Mayfield, who was walking Fifi, and Ted Trapper, who was walking Rufus, his sheepdog. And even though the encounter was a pleasant one for the pet contingent, the humans were a lot less matey.

“Is it true that you are suing us because our daughter makes too much noise, Kurt?” asked Odelia, deciding to tackle this thing feet first. “Cause you should probably know that all babies are a little noisy. It’s a natural thing. And if you sue us, not only does that make you a very petty person, but you’re going to lose.”

“Who told you that I’m suing you?” asked Kurt, already backtracking a little.

“I did,” Fifi piped up happily from the man’s feet, though of course he couldn’t understand what she was saying.

“Just something that’s being said around the neighborhood,” said Odelia.

“Well done, Fifi,” Rufus grunted. “About time someone said something about your human’s appalling behavior.”

“Would you call him appalling?” said Fifi, cocking her head.

“I’m not callinghim appalling. I’m calling out his appalling behavior.”

“Um… well… look,” said Kurt. ”I may have made an ill-advised remark at some point, or maybe someone misunderstood, but of course I didn’t mean it. I mean…”

“Yes, Kurt,” said Odelia. “What do you mean?”

“I, um… I don’t have anything against infants, of course. And so what if I have to sleep with earplugs every night? I guess you and Chase have it a lot worse.”

“It’s true that we haven’t been getting a lot of sleep lately,” said Odelia, yawning.

“I hope you don’t mind me saying so, Odelia, but you look terrible,” said Ted.

“Thanks, Ted,” said Odelia with a grimace. “That’s very considerate of you.”

“She does look terrible,” said Little Janine. “Which makes me wonder if she’s fit for her duties. Something to consider, Little John.”

“Absolutely. Maybe Big John should look for a replacement.”

“Oh, and now that I have you here,” said Ted, “do you by any chance know who destroyed Big Papa?”

“Big Papa? Who’s Big Papa?” asked Odelia.

“Big John, of course,” said Little John. “He’s like a father to his people.”

“My gnome,” said Ted. “When I went to pick up Rufus just now, I saw that Big Papa had lost his head.“

“It happens,” said Kurt sympathetically. “We all lose our heads from time to time. Just like I lost my head when little Grace arrived next door and started keeping me up at night.” When Odelia shot a cross look in his direction, he held up his hands in a peaceable gesture and quickly added,“Which is absolutely understandable. She is, as you so rightly point out, just a baby. And babies cry. I accept that and I’m moving on.”

“So about Big Papa,” said Ted.

“I don’t know anything about your gnome, Ted,” said Odelia. “I’m sorry.”

“I was thinking that maybe your dad… He was handling a sledgehammer earlier today, demolishing that eyesore of a garden house of his.”

“Like I said, I don’t know anything about any of that,” said Odelia.

“Some babies do cry a lot louder than others, though,” said Kurt. “Have you considered taking Grace to a doctor? Maybe there’s something wrong with her.”

The look Odelia shot him should have told him that he was treading on dangerous ground, but then Kurt has never been known for his sensitivity.

“It’s just that he’s my number-one gnome,” said Ted. “The prize of my collection. Which is why he’s called Big Papa. And now that he’s lost his head it’s just not the same. A papa without a head loses the respect of the other gnomes.”

“Just glue his head back on, Ted,” said Kurt gruffly.

“Well, I can’t glue his head back on, Kurt, since his head has been pulverized,” said Ted. “Literally turned to powder. Which means he must have suffered a heavy blow. Like from a sledgehammer,” he added, giving Odelia a meaningful look.

“Maybe something fell from the sky?” Kurt suggested.

“Something fell from the sky,” said Ted, with a voice dripping with skepticism.

“It happens. I read in the paper the other day that a frozen pizza fell on top of someone’s head. Presumably dropped from an airplane.”

“Oh, so one of the pilots decided they didn’t like their Papa John’s pepperoni order and opened a window on their jumbo jet and chucked it out, did they?”

Kurt’s face flushed. “Are you calling me a liar, Ted?”

Ted immediately backed down. Accountants aren’t big on fistfights with scrappy neighbors, even when they’re fellow members of their local Homeowners Association. “I’m just saying it’s very unlikely that pizzas fall from airplanes, Kurt. Nothing more. And besides, I didn’t find any pizza anywhere near Big Papa.”

“Look, you fellows can duke it out as much as you want,” said Odelia, “but I have to take John Boggle’s dogs to the dog park, so I bid you both adieu for now.”

“John Boggle?The John Boggle?” said Ted, staring at the two dogs.

“The Prime Minister?” asked Kurt, his eyes also riveted on the dogs.

“That’s the one.” Though I could tell that Odelia already regretted having said anything. After all, the Boggles’ stay with us was supposed to remain a secret.

“Only he’s not the PM anymore, is he?” said Ted. “He got canned last week.”

Odelia frowned.“John isn’t Prime Minister of England anymore?”

“Nope,” said Ted, looking pleased as punch that he knew something the others didn’t—especially Kurt, who was giving him a distinctly dirty look. “Got sacked by his party for unethical behavior and replaced by another fellow—don’t ask me who.”

“Huh,” said Odelia. “Is that a fact?”

Little John and Little Janine appeared taken aback by this confirmation from an unsuspected source that their unsackable human had, in fact, been sacked.

“Impossible,” said Little John.

“Must be some mistake,” said Little Janine.

“Big John would never allow himself to be fired.”

“If you’ll excuse me, I have somewhere I need to be,” said Odelia, as she started in the direction of the homestead.

“Hey, what about the dog park!” Little Janine cried.

“Yes, I need to go—urgently!” Little John added.

“What can I say, you guys,” I said. “You probably should have gone when you had the chance.”

And then we were hurrying back to the house, Little John and Little Janine walking a little awkwardly, as they had a bladder control issue to contend with.

CHAPTER 21

[Êàðòèíêà: img_2]

Chase was helping the delivery guy wrestle the box spring and the new mattress up the stairs and into the nursery, which had temporarily morphed into a guest room once again, also assisted by a large and burly male he’d found standing in the living room and who had announced he went by the name Wilkins and was John Boggles’s personal protection officer. The work was slow going, as the staircase had never been designed to allow for the transition of large objects like bulky box springs. Still, while Wilkins pushed, and Chase pulled, and the delivery guy was vocal in his helpful instructions, they were slowly getting there.

Once upstairs, they found John Boggles in‘his’ room reading a Churchill biography and looking a little shaggy, as was apparently his personal style. “Oh, there you are,” he said when they came a-knocking with the requested goods. “Just put it… over there somewhere,” he said, gesturing in the general direction of the wall, where the butterflies Odelia had painstakingly painted and the Smurfs Chase had cut out and glued in place were still very much in evidence. Perhaps one day, when these people had left, the room would be a nursery once again.

“So are you the English guy?” asked the delivery man, staring at John as if he was some kind of superhero in the flesh. “The one that got kicked out of office?”

“Um, yes, as a matter of fact I am he,” said Boggles. “That is to say, he is I. I am him, so to speak. Though I think you’ll find that I have not, as you so aptly put it, been ‘kicked out of office,’ but am in fact still very much in possession of my position.”

The delivery guy, who’d been listening with rapt attention, seemed confused as to what Boggles had actually said, as evidenced by his next statement. “So are you moving into a Hollywood mansion now, like your Prince what’s-his-face?”

“I can emphatically state that I am not moving into a Hollywood mansion,” said Boggles. “I am merely enjoying the heartwarming hospitality of Mr. Pringsley here and his lovely wife Ophelia, and very soon I’ll be back at my post, leading my country to infinity and beyond.” He chuckled, then patted the man on the back. “Now if you could show me how to work this intriguing contraption of yours I’d be very much obliged, good sir.”

Wilkins, who’d been standing at attention near the window, glancing out, now announced into a wrist mic, “All clear, I repeat, all clear, over.“

Chase sidled up to the man.“So are there a lot of you guys out there, Wilkins?”

“I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to say, sir,” said the security man stiffly.

“No, of course,” he said. “It’s just that you guys usually travel in packs, right?”

But Wilkins merely stared at him, then returned his gaze to the perimeter of the house, scanning it for known and unknown potential threats. Just then, Odelia moved into view, accompanied by two dogs and two cats. She waved at them and Chase waved back, while Wilkins muttered into his wrist mic,“F1 has returned with Boggle one and Boggle two, over.”

“Her name is Odelia,” said Chase helpfully. “And she’s my wife.”

“I know she’s your wife, sir,” said the man. “Now if you’ll please let me do my job?”

“Oh, absolutely,” said Chase, and decided to head downstairs to greet his wife. As he did, he couldn’t help but wonder how long these people were going to stay. He didn’t mind that Odelia had decided to help out a friend, but the request had come at an inconvenient time, to say the least.

He met Odelia in the living room and saw that she looked perturbed.“What’s wrong?” he asked as he watched the two dogs scoot through the pet flap and into the backyard, then make a beeline for the rose bushes for some reason.

“I met Kurt and Ted just now, and Ted says Boggles was fired from his job. He’s no longer a Prime Minister, which makes me wonder what else he hasn’t told us.”

Chase frowned.“But… he just told us he’s still the Prime Minister.”

Odelia threw up her hands.“He’s lying! It’s all over the papers!”

“Calm down, honey,” he said, placing his hands on her arms. “So what if he’s not the Prime Minister anymore? What difference does it make?”

“The difference is that he might stick around here forever, Chase!”

He could see that she was a little—or a lot—overwrought, and it wasn’t hard to understand why. Instead of enjoying those blessed postnatal weeks, she was running around doing the Boggles’ shopping and playing the perfect hostess.

“So maybe we should find them some other place to stay?” he suggested gently. “I’ll bet there’s plenty of Airbnb’s in town where they could stay.”

“Tessa said they need to lay low for a while—to hide from the press.”

“I’m sure that can be arranged in one of those nice Airbnb’s. We could rent it under our own name, for instance, and nobody will be any the wiser.”

She gave him a thoughtful look.“That’s not such a bad idea, actually.”

“We can discuss it over dinner,” he said. “I’m making my signature dish, which I’m sure the Boggles will love, and we’ll hear what they have to say.”

“You’re not making spaghetti bolognese?”

“Of course. Who doesn’t love a nice bolognese?”

“But they’re vegetarians.”

He shrugged.“So I’ll remove the meatballs.”

“Did you manage to get the box spring and the mattress?”

“They’re upstairs being installed as we speak.”

“Oh, Chase, I’m so sorry for this mess. I shouldn’t have said yes to Tessa.”

“I’m sure it’ll all work out fine,” he assured her, and they shared a hug. Which is when he noticed that two cats were intently staring at him. “Honey?”

“Mh?”

“Have you fed the cats?”

“Oh, shoot,” she said, disentangling herself from his embrace. “Completely forgot about that.” She knelt down next to Max and Dooley. “You guys are probably starving. Let’s get that fixed right now.” She tickled them under the chin, which seemed to mollify them to some extent. She hurried into the kitchen, and he could hear her rummage around in the pantry, then utter a curse.

“What’s wrong?” he said as he was starting to grow a little uneasy under the cats’ enduring stare—which could almost be qualified as a hostile glare at this point.

“We’ve run out of kibble! I gave the last portions to the Boggle dogs.”

“That’s all right. I’m sure your mom will have some.”

“No, she ran out, too. Said she was going shopping tomorrow anyway.”

“Didn’t you go shopping this morning?”

Odelia reappeared, looking flustered.“I did, but Janine gave me such a long shopping list I completely forgot to buy kibble.”

“We’ve got nothing left?” asked Chase, swallowing as Max and Dooley’s stare turned lethal. “Not even some pouches of that nice, delicious wet food?”

“Nope. The Boggle dogs ate the lot. They might be tiny, but boy can they eat.”

Just then, the cats broke out in some sort of remonstrative wailing, and Odelia looked startled.

“Oh, dear,” she said.

“What are they saying?”

“This was the last straw. They’re moving out and moving in with Charlene.” She frowned as Dooley seemed to say something else. “At least if Charlene doesn’t turn them into sausages. In which case they’ll move in with Scarlett instead.”

And to show them they weren’t kidding, the two cats marched in the direction of the front door, which was still open, and strutted out and were gone.

CHAPTER 22

[Êàðòèíêà: img_2]

We’d just left the house, making our big exit—though without slamming the door, since cats aren’t into slamming doors—when a limousine came gliding along the street and pulled to a stop in front of us. A blacked-out window rolled down and the face of Tessa Torrance appeared. She removed her sunglasses, glanced down to me and Dooley and recognition registered on her refined features. “Look, Dante, isn’t that Odelia’s cat? That fat orange one?”

A second face joined the first, and I recognized Prince Dante.“I don’t know, sugar plum. All cats look the same to me.”

“I’m sure it’s them,” said Tessa, and called out to the driver. “Park over here, will you, George? Thanks.” And she got out.

I would have told her I was neither fat nor orange but was distracted by her exquisitely fashionable appearance: she looked as if she was on her way to aVogue shoot, in a black strapless dress and black lacquered heels. Dante, too, was dressed to impress in a charcoal tux.

“Are you sure this is the place?” the Prince asked.

“This is the address I’ve got.” She directed her attention to me, giving me a thousand-watt smile. “Hey, cutie-pie, is this where Odelia Poole lives?”

“Odelia Kingsley,” I said automatically. “And I’m not orange—I’m blorange.”

“And he’s not fat either,” Dooley put in. “He’s simply suffering from big bones.”

“Not suffering, per se,” I said. “Just one of those things one learns to live with.”

“See?” said Tessa. “I told you I got it right the first time.”

“How can you tell from a couple of meowing cats?”

“How many times do I have to tell you? Cats don’t just meow—they talk.”

They started up the short path to the front door.“So you can understand cats now?”

“Of course not, silly. Just trust me. When have I ever been wrong?”

And as they approached the house, Odelia appeared, looking distraught. Her first instinct was to bellow our names, and she’d just started, “Max, Doo—“ when she caught sight of Tessa and Dante. “Oh…” she said, brought up short.

“Odelia!” Tessa cried, and opened her arms for a hug.

“Oh, Tessa,” said Odelia, and suddenly burst into a flood of tears.

“What’s wrong?” Tessa cried.

“Nothing—everything!”

And as the human contingent moved inside, Dooley and I shared a look of distress.“Suddenly I don’t feel so good about moving in with Charlene, Max,” said my friend.

“Me, neither.”

“And it’s not because she might have a sausage factory in her basement.”

“I think it’s doubtful that a mayor would also be a butcher on the side.”

“We can’t leave Odelia in her hour of need, Max. That woman needs us.”

“She does. She really does.”

“If we leave now, it’s like kicking a dog. Even though I don’t like most dogs—except Fifi and Rufus, of course—I would never kick them.”

“Me, neither.”

“Also because if I did they’d come after me.”

“There’s that, too,” I allowed.

And so it was decided: we wouldn’t leave Odelia when she was so obviously at a low ebb. Which of course raised another issue: how to walk back on our promise we were moving out without losing face? Especially since we’d walked out in such a dramatic fashion.

“We can always tell her that Charlene didn’t want us,” Dooley suggested.

“One phone call to Charlene would prove that to be a lie,” I explained.

“Or… we could say that Harriet and Brutus begged us not to leave?”

“They would never corroborate our story, especially since we were supposed to leave together.”

“So… what do we say, Max? Without looking silly?”

I sighed.“I think we’ll have to bite the bullet and tell her the truth.”

“What is the truth?”

“That we’re very unhappy about this whole Boggle situation, but that we feel that we can’t leave our human to face this situation all by herself.”

And we would have walked back in, our story ready to go, when another stretch limo suddenly drew up at the curb, another blacked-out window rolled down, and this time it was none other than Opal whose famous face appeared. She, too, was wearing a pair of oversized sunglasses as she directed her attention at us.“Hey, you guys over there. Yes, you. Is this where Odelia Poole lives?”

“Odelia Kingsley,” I said. “And yes, she does live here.”

“Max, it’s Opal!” Dooley loud-whispered.

“I know!” I whispered back.

“I have no idea what you’re saying,” Opal complained. But then she opened the car door and a small ginger cat hopped out. It was Prunella, Opal’s sweetheart.

“Hey, fellas!” she cried, clearly happy to meet us again. We’d met Opal and Prunella in LA, when the family had flown out there to assist Opal with the small matter of someone trying to get her killed. We even stayed at her house that time.

“Oh, hey, Prunella,” I said.

“Okay, I think this must be the place,” said Opal, and also stepped out of the car and then up to the front door. When she rang the bell, this time Chase appeared. The big guy seemed momentarily stunned to find the well-known talk-show hostess on the welcome mat, but then a sunny smile creased his face.

“Opal Harvey as I live and breathe,” he said. “So nice to see you again.”

“Same,” said Opal curtly, then glanced beyond him. “Is Odelia in? I need to have a word.”

“Absolutely,” said Chase, and disappeared indoors with this latest guest.

The door closed, and Prunella lamented,“She forgot about me! Can you believe that? She totally forgot about me!”

“It’s fine, Prunella,” said Dooley. “It happens to us all the time. Isn’t that right, Max?”

“Especially lately,” I muttered. “And I have a feeling it’s only going to get worse.”

CHAPTER 23

[Êàðòèíêà: img_2]

I have to say that the place was rocking: the Boggles were there, of course, John and Janine, with Tessa and Dante now added to the mix and also Opal Harvey. And right in the middle of it all was Odelia, looking a little overwrought. Chase was by her side, darting an occasional anxious glance in his wife’s direction, presumably worried that she might collapse under the strain.

“So I was thinking that this is the perfect time to sit you down for an exclusive interview, John,” Opal was saying. “Especially with all that’s been going on across the pond, this might give you an opportunity to put the record straight as far as your legacy is concerned.”

“My legacy,” John murmured approvingly, degusting the words with relish.

“You’re pretty famous over here, too, you know, and people want to hear your side of the story.”

“Absolutely, absolutely.”

“It will give you a chance to tell the world about your body of work.”

“Yes, yes, I would like that,” said John, folding his hands on top of his own sizable frame. “I would like that very much.”

“And it will kick-start your new career,” Tessa pointed out.

This had John look up in surprise.“New career? What’s wrong with my old career?”

“Darling, that part of our life is over,” said Janine gently. “You have to start thinking about the next chapter.”

“You’ll move to the States, of course,” said Tessa. “Plenty of opportunities.”

“You could launch yourself on the speaking circuit,” said Opal. “If you play your cards right you could be a multimillionaire in a few short years. People pay plenty of money to listen to a man with your experience. A world leader. An icon. A legend.”

“Leader, icon, legend,” John murmured as his eyes twinkled excitedly.

“See?” said Janine. “What did I tell you? Instead of hanging on to that silly job of yours running that silly country and taking crap from a bunch of ungrateful people we should be following the money and living life in the lap of luxury.”

Tessa nodded.“I’m talking Netflix deals, Spotify deals, exclusive podcasts, documentaries, speeches… Think billionaire, John, not millionaire.”

“Yes, think big, bigger, biggest, John,” said Janine.

“Big John,” muttered John. “Bigger John. Biggest John.”

“BJ,” said Prince Dante. “That could be your brand, John. Team BJ.”

“I don’t think so, honey,” said Tessa curtly. “Let’s keep it strictly PG.”

The Prince looked confused.“PG? I don’t…”

“Let’s hold a strategy meeting right here, right now,” said Opal. She turned to Odelia. “Can we all stay the night? I don’t want anyone to know about this meeting. This is all strictly hush-hush.”

“Oh, Odelia would love to host us,” said Tessa. “Isn’t that right, Odelia?”

“I—“ Odelia began to say, but the conversation had already moved on.

“You and Dante can take the main bedroom,” Janine suggested. “And Opal can stay next door with Odelia’s lovely folks. They’ve got plenty of space. Now let’s get down to business. How soon can you get the ball rolling on that interview, Opal?”

And as the‘strategy meeting’ progressed, without any input from Odelia or Chase, they both sort of melted into the background, presumably to announce to Marge and Tex that they were hosting the world’s most famous talk-show host for the next couple of days, while the bright future of Big John was beingdiscussed.

“I wonder where the dogs are,” said Dooley, glancing around.

“Outside, probably,” I said. “People like the Boggles or even Opal mostly keep dogs for show—as an accouterment or fashion statement.”

“Dogs are fashionable?” asked Dooley, surprised.

“Oh, absolutely. And just like your regular fashion, what type of dog you should get changes every season. It might be Pekes this year and Chihuahuas the next. Though the type of dog you can carry in your handbag is the most convenient, of course. You can take them to New York Fashion Week or show them off on the red carpet at a movie premiere and be the talk of the town.”

“Odd,” said Dooley. “I’ve never looked at dogs as fashion objects before.”

We decided to venture outside, to try and locate Harriet and Brutus, and tell them that the big move to Charlene was off. Now more than ever Odelia needed us, that much was obvious. Especially now that our home was under siege by all these millionaires—or was it billionaires—and was turning into a new Davos.

But when we arrived outside, of our friends there was no trace. We did come upon the first meeting between the Boggle dogs and Opal’s precious little Prunella. One of those fateful meetings Netflix documentaries are made of.

“It’s so great to finally meet you!” Little Janine was saying. “I’m your biggest fan!”

“That’s nice,” said Prunella coolly. “Who are you, exactly?”

“Little Janine,” said Janine. “I told you. And this is Little John.”

“Have we met before?” asked Prunella.

“Well… we met just now,” said Little Janine uncertainly.

“We did? How strange. You’d think I’d remember.” She then turned to us. “Oh, hey, Max and Dooley. So nice to see you again. Max and Dooley are some of my best friends,” she told Little Janine. “They’re the absolute best.”

“Uh-huh,” said Little Janine, ignoring me and Dooley. “There’s so many things I want to ask you, Prunella. Like, is it true that you have your own chauffeur?”

Prunella stared at the little doggie.“I’m sorry, but who are you again?”

Dooley and I shared a grin. Prunella had played this game with us before.

She gave us a knowing wink, and we returned the wink with interest, even as Little Janine and Little John stood looking at each other with confusion written all over their faces. I could tell they hadn’t expected their idol to also be a fruitcake.

“Let’s get out of here, you guys,” said Prunella, and headed in the direction of the opening in the hedge. “And where are Harriet and Brutus? Or don’t they live here anymore?”

“Oh, they definitely still live here,” I said.

“Though maybe not for much longer,” Dooley added.

“Oh? And why is that? Tell me all, you guys. I’ve missed our conversations. And our adventures, of course!”

And so we told her all, even as we went in search of our friends.

CHAPTER 24

[Êàðòèíêà: img_2]

“Did you fly here on your private jet, Prunella?” asked Dooley as we traversed Marge and Tex’s backyard.

“Of course. It’s the only way to travel.”

“If I had a private jet,” I mused, “I wouldn’t mind traveling the world and having lots and lots of new adventures.”

“If I had a private jet,” said Dooley, “I’d stock if full of kibble so Odelia would never run out again.”

“You don’t need a private jet to stock kibble, Dooley,” I said. “You could stock it anywhere. In the basement, for instance, where it’s kept nice and fresh.”

This gave my friend pause.“If I had a private jet,” Prunella began, then laughed. “How silly. I have a private jet, and I do travel the world all the time.”

“I’ve always liked to stay home and stick close to my couch,” I said, “but ever since our home turned into some kind of hotel, I’m starting to think that going places has its advantages as well.”

“So why don’t you? Go places, I mean,” said Prunella.

“Oh, I don’t know. Probably because Odelia is a small-town reporter, and so we like to stick close to our small town so she can write about our small-town adventures?”

“You have to think bigger, Max,” Prunella enjoined. “Think global!”

“Global,” I muttered. “But the world seems so… big.”

“It is big, but also fun. Now where are Harriet and Brutus?”

“Is that Prunella’s voice I’m hearing?” suddenly someone said somewhere in our vicinity. And when I looked closer I saw that Harriet and Brutus were hiding on the other side of the hedge.

“Are you playing hide and seek?” said Prunella good-naturedly. “Cause if you are, you’ve lost this round.”

“Hey, Prunella,” said Brutus as he emerged from his hiding place and shook a stray leaf from his person. “We thought we’d hide from Odelia’s guests and this place is as good as any.”

“You mean those two mutts? But they’re harmless.”

“Harmless but very annoying,” I said.

“They treat us like surfers,” Dooley added sadly.

“Yeah, they think the sun shines from their behind,” said Harriet, causing Dooley to give her a puzzled look.

“How can the sun shine from their behind?” he asked. “That’s impossible.”

“It’s just an expression,” I said. “It means they think the sun rises and sets on them.”

“But the sun does rise and set on them, doesn’t it? And on us, too.”

“Of course it does, Dooley, but they seem to think the sun revolves around them.”

This gave my friend plenty of food for thought, for he was quiet for the next couple of minutes as he worked this out.

“Our home isn’t our home anymore,” Harriet lamented. “The Boggles have taken over and they’re driving us all crazy.”

“Odelia first and foremost,” I said. “Which is why we need to reconsider our plan to move in with Charlene, you guys. Odelia needs us now more than ever.”

“I guess she does,” Harriet agreed. “Though she brought this on herself. She should never have agreed when Tessa asked her to host those awful Boggles.”

“Odelia is a nice person,” I said. “She doesn’t like to say no to her friends.”

“So why don’t you try and get rid of the Boggles?” Prunella suggested.

“Easier said than done,” I said.

“Yeah, I have the impression they’re here to stay,” said Brutus.

“Look, Opal once had a guest I couldn’t stand,” said Prunella, “so I simply made his life miserable and in the end he left. It took some scheming on my part, and Opal wasn’t happy with me for a while, but you know what they say: the end justifies the means.” She shrugged. “So I simplydid what I had to do.”

We all fixed her with a curious look.“So what did you do?” asked Harriet.

Prunella smiled.“If I tell you, will you take me to your cat choir tonight? Ever since you told me about that I’ve been dying to join your choir.”

“Of course,” said Harriet. “You can even sing first soprano if you like.”

I frowned at our friend. This was big. Harriet would fight anyone to the death if they dared to try and take away that particular privilege. It just goes to show how fed up she was with the Boggles.

“Well, the secret is—“

But what the secret of getting rid of unwanted guests really was would have to remain a secret for a little while longer, for at that exact moment Tex joined us in the backyard, dressed once more in his coveralls, hard hat and high-vis vest. This time he was also donning safety goggles and looked ready to jump on board Jeff Bezos’s or Elon Musk’s or Richard Branson’s spaceship and take a trip into space.

“Neighbor, oh neighbor,” a voice sounded from the other side of the hedge.

“Ted,” said Tex unhappily.

“About my gnome. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but someone demolished the pride of my collection.” And to show Tex that he wasn’t kidding, he held up what was left of a pretty large garden gnome. “See? Big Papa’s head is gone. Pulverized.”

“Have you considered that his head might have simply collapsed, Ted?”

“Collapsed? What are you talking about?”

“Plaster fatigue, Ted. I’m talking about plaster fatigue.”

Ted stared at his neighbor.“You’re pulling my leg, aren’t you?”

“Absolutely not. Plaster fatigue is real, Ted. One moment you have a healthy, fine-looking gnome, and the next—poof! He’s gone. Collapsed into a pile of dust.”

For a moment, Ted was speechless as he stared from Tex to the remnants of his gnome.“Plaster fatigue,” he murmured. “How about that?”

“Or it could be plaster rot, of course. The two conditions are equally fatal for your garden-variety gnome.”

“But I bought it from a reputable seller, Tex. A very reputable seller.”

“Don’t believe everything you read online, Ted. There’s a lot of frauds out there. Frauds and thieves. They’ll prey on innocent collectors like us.”

“Is that a fact?”

“Absolutely. So next time before you buy a gnome online, come to me first.”

“I will do that, Tex. I will definitely do that. Thank you. Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome, neighbor. Us gnome collectors have to help each other.”

“That’s… very kind of you.”

“It’s a gnome-eat-gnome world out there.”

“Plaster fatigue,” Ted murmured as he went on his way. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

And as Tex turned, a smirk on his face, he encountered the gaze of his mother-in-law, who stood wagging her finger.“You naughty, naughty boy, Tex Poole.”

Tex’s grin widened. “Takes one to know one, Vesta.”

Gran, too, was dressed in blue coveralls, a high-vis vest, hard hat and safety goggles. And much to our surprise, they started clearing away the rubble that had once been the garden house. Not the fact that they were clearing the site was surprising, but the fact that they were collaborating and not at daggers drawn.

I guess miracles do happen, even in Bumpkin Cove.

CHAPTER 25

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The moon rose radiant and serene on a peaceful world below. Hampton Cove was silent and not a creature stirred… or did it? Five cats slowly made their way to the park, where we were met by a striking scene: dozens more cats, all chattering excitedly and enjoying this meeting of the minds as they hung out at the playground. No happy kiddies gliding down the slide or clambering up the jungle gym now, but the collected cat population of our small coastal town.

“This is just… magical,” said Prunella in hushed tones as she witnessed the amazing scene. “And you guys do this every night?”

“Every night,” I said.

“At least when we’re in town,” said Harriet airily. “Like yourself we have so many international obligations that sometimes it’s hard to find the time, but we feel it’s important to give back to the local community, which is why we keep coming back as often as we can.”

Prunella gave Harriet a sideways glance, then gave me a knowing wink.“So who is Shanille and why is it important I talk to her?”

“Because she’s in charge of cat choir,” I said. “She’s our director.”

“A role she’s still getting accustomed to,” said Harriet. “But I have to admit that she’s gradually improving—with a lot of assistance from her first soprano, of course.” She tapped her chest self-importantly and threw her head back. “Moi.”

This time Prunella had to laugh, then quickly suppressed her mirth when Harriet gave her a scathing look. Of course when it comes to dealing with divas Prunella had probably seen it all, since half the divas of the world had at one time or another taken place in front of her human.

“And there she is now,” said Harriet. She waved a deft paw. “Shanille, oh, Shanille. We have a guest tonight. And she’s going to sing the soprano part.”

Shanille, who’s Father Reilly’s cat, came walking over. As always she looked grave. Shanille takes her role very seriously. She gave Prunella the once-over. “You have to audition first, of course,” she said, tapping her chin as she circled Prunella and studied her from every angle. “Is this your firstexperience as a singer? Because let me tell you, little missy, it’s not as easy as it looks.”

“I make it look easy,” said Harriet with satisfaction.

“Many are called but precious few are chosen,” Shanille clarified.

“Prunella is Opa—“ I began to say, but Shanille cut me off with a gesture.

“Silence! This is no trivial matter, Max. This is cat choir, and we have standards—standards I adhere to very rigidly.” She narrowed her eyes as Prunella’s lips twisted into a smile. “Well, let’s hear it,” she snapped.

“What do you want me to sing?” asked Prunella.

Shanille shared a look with Harriet and said,“Why don’t you sing Harriet’s part for tonight? Hello.”

“Hello to you, too,” said Prunella with a grin.

“Don’t get smart with me, young lady. I meant the songHello by Adele.“

“Not Adele!” said Prunella in mock shock.

“Only the best can join my choir,” said Shanille. “The best of the best.”

“In other words, the very best,” said Prunella, then sighed. “Okay, so I guess I’ll give it a shot. Don’t judge me too harshly, though, Miss Shanille. I know I still have a lot to learn.”

“Go on, then,” said Shanille, slightly mollified. “We’re all here to learn. The important thing is to try and be open to honest criticism. And be willing to work hard and improve.” She closed her eyes. “Just give me your best shot.”

Prunella took a deep breath, and launched into the well-known song. And even as she hit those first few notes, we knew we were in the presence of greatness. Harriet’s jaw dropped, Shanille’s eyes flew open, and Dooley and I shared a look of surprise. Even Brutus, who’d been straining at the proverbial leash to join his friends and shoot the breeze, stopped twitching. And when Opal’s sweetheart got to the chorus, and belted out those high notes as if she’d never done anything else her entire life, we were all stunned. All around us, conversations halted, and soon all eyes were fixed on Prunella.

And when finally the song was at an end and the last notes drifted off into the night, for a moment you could hear a pin drop, then all of cat choir burst loose into a raucous applause and loud cheers.

“Amazing!” Shanille gasped. “I’ve never heard anything like it! You’re a natural, Priscilla.”

“Prunella,” said Prunella.

“Yeah, that was pretty good,” Harriet admitted, and nodded in admiration. High praise, coming from her.

“I’ve been singing all my life,” said Prunella modestly. “It’s one of my hobbies.”

“Who are you?” asked Shanille.

“Prunella is Opal Harvey’s cat,” I explained. “She’s in town for a visit.”

“Opal’s cat!” Shanille cried, and now looked as if she was about to collapse. “Why didn’t you say so?”

“I tried,” I said.

Shanille now placed a paw around Prunella’s shoulder. “Let me introduce you to the others. And how is Opal as a human? Is she as nice in real life as she is on television?” And as she led Prunella away, the latter mouthed, ‘Thanks, Max!’

“You’re welcome,” I said. Prunella might be rich and her owner famous, but from what I remembered she didn’t have much of a social life out there in LA. It would do her some good to chat with other cats for a change.

“That was so amazing, you guys,” Harriet gushed, now that both Prunella and Shanille were out of earshot.

“It was,” I said. “It really was.”

“I wish I could sing like that.”

“You have to practice, Harriet,” said Dooley. “The important thing is to try and be open to honest criticism. And be willing to work hard and improve.”

“Wiseass,” said Harriet good-naturedly, and sashayed off, ever the diva.

“See you around, fellas,” said Brutus happily, and also pranced off.

And as Dooley and I mingled with our friends, suddenly I saw two familiar figures standing at the edge of the clearing, watching on with marked interest.

Reading from left to right, they were: Little John and Little Janine!

CHAPTER 26

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Somehow I wasn’t surprised to see the Boggle canines giving us the evil eye. Presumably they’d followed us all the way to the park, having nothing better to do than to play surveillance. It is, after all, what dogs do best: track down stuff. When it’s not a bone they once buried in the backyard, it’s their landlady’s cats.

“It’s the Boggle dogs, Max!” said Dooley, much perturbed. “They’re watching us!”

“And gossiping about us, no doubt,” I said.

“What are we going to do!”

“Just ignore them,” was my advice.

“But how can we ignore them? They’re right there—watching! Waiting!”

He was right. It’s very hard to ignore a pair of dogs who are doing their utmost not to be ignored. They were so very obviously conspicuous I could see their game. They were trying to intimidate us. Browbeat us into submitting to them. But instead of allowing myself to be cowed, I decided to beat them at their own game. “Let’s go,” I said curtly.

“Go where?”

“Go and talk to them.”

“Talk to them! But, Max!”

“Settle this thing once and for all.”

And without waiting for Dooley’s reply, I stalked over there, planting myself in front of the twosome and giving them the evil eye.

“Hey, Max,” said Little Janine. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“Let’s cut the crap,” I said, having had quite enough of this twosome.

“What a voice Opal’s cat has, right?” said Little John, and suddenly I noticed that from up close the mocking expression I thought I’d detected on his face was actually more akin to admiration. “I’ve always been such an admirer, you know.”

“Me, too,” said Little Janine. “Remember how we used to watch her on the stage? I always thought she had it in her to be a star. And look at her now.”

“She’s the absolute best,” Little John gushed. “She should have her own show.”

“Wait, you knew that Prunella had such a great voice?” I asked, taken aback by this demonstration of abject fangirling—or as in Little John’s case fanboying.

“Oh, sure,” said Little Janine. “She once sang a song on Opal’s show.”

“It was magical,” said Little John with a little sigh. “Absolutely amazing.”

“We saw you guys head out and so we decided to tag along,” said Little Janine. She gave me a bashful look. “We just figured you wouldn’t want to be seen with us so we kept our distance.”

“Cats like you don’t like dogs like us,” Little John explained.

“What do you mean, ‘dogs like us?’” I asked. I was experiencing that sudden jolt you get when you walk down the stairs and think you’ve reached the ground floor only to discover there’s one extra step you didn’t count on. Very annoying!

“Well, obviously you’re famous, Max, and so is the rest of your crew.”

“Famous? What are you talking about?”

Little Janine laughed uncertainly.“Well… you’re Max.The Max.“

I stared at her, quite discombobulated.“Yes?”

“We’ve been reading about you, Max—in theGazette. The articles Odelia writes? You’re the cat she often refers to, aren’t you? The Max from the stories?”

“But… do you get theGazette over in England?”

“Of course we do, silly,” said Little Janine. “The internet is everywhere.”

I sank down on my haunches, shaking my head. I still didn’t get it.

“Look, before Janine met John, she was already thinking of moving to Hampton Cove. You see, her grandparents retired here and so as a kid she spent her holidays here. And she always had this idea that she wanted to return one day and buy the house her grandparents had lived in and fix it up. But then of course life happened and she more or less put that idea on the back-burner, as one does. But then she met John and turns out he, too, once spent a summer here and fell in love with the place. They even think that they may have met that summer when they were both little, which makes Hampton Cove extra meaningful. Anyway, when John’s political troubles began, Janine started thinking that maybe he should drop politics and start life afresh. With her. Out here.”

“And so Janine has been a fan of theHampton Cove Gazette for years,” Little John continued the story. “It’s been her lifeline to this place—her favorite place.”

“Which is why we were so excited to meet you guys. You and Dooley and Odelia and Chase.”

“And Harriet and Brutus,” Little John said with a smile.

Dooley, who’d finally screwed up his courage and had joined us, had caught the final part of the narrative, and he now piped up, “But you’ve been very rude to us. And you’ve treated us like those people in Downer Abbey. Those surfers.”

“Serfs,” I corrected him.

“That’s what I said. Surfers.”

“I know and I’m sorry about that,” said Little Janine, giving us a look of quiet contrition. “It’s just that…”

“Have you ever met one of your heroes in the flesh?” asked Little John.

I thought about this for a moment, then shook my head.“Actually, no.”

“Max is my hero,” said Dooley. “And I meet him every day.”

“Oh, Dooley,” I muttered, my cheeks coloring beneath my fur.

Little Janine smiled.“Well, you two are my heroes, and so when I met you I felt so… well, bashful I guess, and behaved in a very bad way. And I want to apologize.”

“Me, too,” said Little John. “We behaved shamefully. Absolutely rotten.”

“I still don’t get it,” I said.

“Which is unusual for you, isn’t it, Max?” said Little Janine, batting her eyelashes at me, causing me to feel even more as if the world had suddenly tilted on its axis and was giving me a kick in the tushy. “Usually you’re pretty astute.”

“Max has a big brain,” Dooley said. “His brain is the biggest of all the brains of all the cats I know. Brutus says it’s because he has a big head, but I don’t think so.”

“Okay, so the thing is that Janine wants to move to Hampton Cove with John, only John doesn’t know it yet,” Little Janine explained.

“He isn’t ready yet to let go of his political career,” said Little John.

“Even though it looks as if his political career is ready to let go of him.”

“So Janine and Tessa, who’ve known each other a long time, decided to work a scheme whereby they got John to agree to come here—just for a short sojourn. A way to decompress, and to get away from Westminster for a little while.”

“Who is this Wes Minster? Is he John’s dad?” asked Dooley.

“Westminster. It’s the political heart of London,” said Little Janine.

“And not a fun place to be right now for John,” said Little John.

“No, they don’t like him there very much at the moment.”

“And so Tessa and Janine conspired to get John out here, and while he’s here, they hope to convince him to chuck his career altogether and build a new life with Janine on this side of the Atlantic. Renovate her grandparents’ place and settle down.”

“Maybe even start a family,” said Little Janine softly.

“They could have a baby,” Dooley suggested. “Just like Odelia. I’ll bet she can give them tips on how to go about it.”

“I think John and Janine know how to make a baby, Dooley,” said Little Janine laughingly.

“They do? Then maybe they can explain how it works, because it’s still not completely clear to me,” said Dooley, which caused our two guests to laugh heartily, much to Dooley’s surprise. “What did I say?” he asked me.

“Nothing, Dooley,” I said. “They’re big fans of you, that’s all.”

“Big fans of me?” my friend asked. “How odd.”

Little Janine now gave me a strange look.“Max?”

“Mh?”

“Do you think we could join cat choir? It’s just that I’ve read so much about it and Odelia describes it so nicely in her columns.”

Both Dooley and I stared at her.“Odelia writes about us?” I asked once I’d recovered from the shock.

“Of course she does, silly. Didn’t you know?”

We both shook our heads slowly.“I never read theGazette,” I confessed.

“We know how the sausage is made,” Dooley added. “And like every butcher knows, once you know how the sausage is made, you don’t want to eat it.”

This had Little John and Little Janine in stitches, causing Dooley to give me a helpless look. I merely shrugged. Apparently Dooley’s fame as a standup comedian extended all the way to England. Who knew!

As it was, I didn’t think it was a good idea to introduce two dogs into cat choir. So instead I took them over to a different section of the park, where dog choir rehearses, and introduced them to Fifi, Rufus, Lil Ran, Windex and the other members of dog choir. They were all very happy to welcome two new applicants, and before long the Boggle dogs were singing along to their little hearts’ content.

And as Dooley and I made our way back to the playground, my friend said,“You see, Max? Never judge a cookie by its cover.”

“I think you’re referring to a book, Dooley.“

“Pretty sure it’s a cookie. Cookies have covers.”

“So have books.”

“Yes, but you can’t eat a book.”

Now how can you argue with that?

And he was right, of course. We’d gravely misjudged Little John and Little Janine. So maybe Big John and Janine weren’t as bad as we thought either?

Only time would tell. At least for now we might have to call off Operation Get Rid of the Annoying Guests. Since they might not be so annoying after all.

CHAPTER 27

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That night no less than five pets slept on the couch downstairs: Dooley and I, Prunella, but also Little John and Little Janine. I guess the couch was big enough for all of us. Harriet and Brutus slept next door, as usual, and I have to say that for the first time in quite a while I slept like a log. And even when Grace started screaming the house down in the middle of the night, it only registered as a blip on my radar. Maybe I was finally getting used to the presence of that little one?

Next to us, Wilkins slept on a mattress, presumably with his eyes open, like any personal protection officer worth his salt—keeping a keen look out for any potential intruders, political hitmen or annoying paparazzi.

Tessa and Prince Dante had opted to spend the night next door, sleeping in Marge and Tex’s bed while the couple bunked with Gran on a spare mattress. And of course Opal had been granted the privilege of Odelia and Chase’s bed, while the couple had also enjoyed the comfort of a spare mattress and slept on the floor.

What did wake me up was when Opal arrived downstairs and started rummaging around, moving furniture and muttering to herself.

“What is she doing?” I finally asked Prunella.

“Setting up for the interview, of course,” said Opal’s sweetie.

“What interview?” I asked. “What are you talking about?”

“The interview with John Boggle.”

“She’s going to film that here? In our house?”

“And why not? Opal likes to film all of her interviews in other people’s places. Though usually she likes to do it outside, with some scenic backdrop of some gorgeous greenery. Guess she doesn’t think your backyard is fit for purpose.”

“She could use the backyard next door,” Dooley suggested. “It has a barbecue.”

Prunella didn’t look particularly impressed by this suggestion, but then not everybody likes a barbecue. Besides, ever since Tex had started work on his bathroom, his backyard was a mess. Not exactly the scene for an Opal interview.

“I hope we can be in the interview, too,” said Little Janine.

“Oh, yes!” said Little John. “I’ve always wanted to be in an Opal interview!”

“We could lie at John’s feet,” Little Janine suggested. “And look solemn.”

“I can do solemn. I can do solemn with the best of them!” said Little John.

“Why is Opal interviewing Big John?” asked Dooley. “Is he famous or something?”

“Opal likes to interview people who are in trouble and are ready to repent,” I explained. “She interviews singers who’ve been bad, actors who are on drugs, athletes who’ve cheated, and pop stars who’ve been kept prisoners by their dads.”

“So what category is Big John in? Has he cheated or is he on drugs?”

“I think he’s done a bit of everything,” said Little Janine vaguely.

Just then, the pet flap flapped and Harriet and Brutus walked in, both looking well rested and well groomed.

“How are things over here?” asked Harriet as she displayed a slight grin.

“Fine and dandy, I trust?” said Brutus, displaying the same type of grin.

I gave them both a look of suspicion. I wondered what they were up to.

“Fine,” said Prunella with a yawn. “Everything just A-okay. Though I could do with a pedicure,” she said as she regarded her left paw with a frown of concern.

“We have a pet salon in town,” Dooley announced. “We can tell Odelia to make you an appointment.”

Prunella gave him a sweet smile.“Thanks, Dooley. Are they any good?”

“I don’t know,” Dooley admitted. “Odelia never takes us there.” Then his face lit up. “But she’s taken us to the vet many times. Though we hate to go. She always prods us in the belly and pokes us with all kinds of needles.”

Prunella grinned.“Just the kind of thing I like to hear on an empty stomach.”

“You’re welcome,” said Dooley innocently.

Harriet and Brutus shared a look.“Seems to take a long time,” Brutus remarked.

“I would have thought they’d have seen it by now,” said Harriet.

Suddenly a terrifying scream tore through the house, startling us all.

“That’s Janine!” Little Janine cried.

Wilkins, who’d been practicing his thousand-yard stare through the front window, immediately sprang to life. Like the man of action that he was, he was off and running in seconds flat. And of course cats being the curious creatures that we are, we were right behind him.

Wilkins got there first, of course, but we only trailed him by milliseconds—if you didn’t know, cats are fast, if they choose to be. The sight that met our eyes was a horrifying one: straight out of a scary movie, in fact. Big John was there, just having woken up, his shaggy blond hair even shaggier than usual, with next to him Janine, who looked absolutely perfect, except for the expression of sheer disgust on her face.

Opal had also hurried up the stairs, and was now standing in the room, along with Odelia and Chase, providing their guests with an appropriate audience.

And there, smack dab in the middle of Janine’s pillow, it lay: a perfectly wrought piece of poo.

“How ghastly!” said Opal, and darted an anxious look at Prunella.

“How inappropriate!” said Big John, and frowned at Little John.

“How nice and round,” said Dooley, and gave me a look of admiration.

“Hey, it wasn’t me,” I said.

“Me, neither,” said Prunella.

“And it wasn’t me!” said Little John.

“Or me,” said Little Janine, admiring the specimen.

“It stinks!” Janine cried in dismay. “The smell woke me up!”

“Oh, dear,” Odelia muttered.

And of course, since nothing ever gets past her, Grace chose that moment to start wailing, drowning out all other sound.

“Who put that there!” Big John demanded, raising his voice over the hubbub.

Odelia had hurried off to see what was troubling Grace, so Chase was left to make the assumptions. He walked up to the offending piece of poo and bent over it to take a sniff.“It smells like poo,” he finally decided.

“You can tell he’s a detective,” said Dooley happily.

“Ofcourse it smells like poo!” cried Janine. “Itis poo! What I want to know is who put it on my pillow!” Her eyes suddenly widened. “Oh, yuck! I probably slept in it! John! Is it in my hair! Please tell me it’s not in my hair!”

John subjected his wife’s hair to a closer scrutiny and finally shook his head. “It isnot in your hair,” he solemnly declared, like the true statesman that he was.

“Thank God. I can’t do an Opal interview with poop hair.”

“Better wash it,” Opal suggested. “Just to make sure.”

“I don’t know why,” said Harriet. “It’s not as if smell transmits through the television. As long as she looks good it doesn’t matter if she smells bad.”

She was smirking, I saw, and so was Brutus.

“You did this, didn’t you?” I said. “Either you or Brutus.”

“Or why not both?” Brutus quipped, visibly satisfied with himself.

And sure enough, suddenly Janine started screaming again and pointing a finger at her husband.“Your hair!” she bellowed. “It’s in your hair.”

And as all those present transferred their attention to the—present or former, the jury was still out on that one—Prime Minister of England, we saw that a piece of poo dangled from his unruly mop, right in front of his nose. He studied it now, looking cross-eyed for a moment, then seemed to sag somewhat. “Oh, snap.”

CHAPTER 28

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The unusual demarche of Brutus and Harriet was cause for a heated discussion outside, amongst our momentarily extended pet family.

“Why would you poop on my human’s pillow?!” Little Janine demanded.

“And let’s not forget about my human!” said Little John.

“Your human is my human and vice versa, John,” said Little Janine.

“Oh, right, of course,” said Little John. “So why would you poop on our humans’ pillows!” he rectified his earlier statement.

Harriet looked taken aback by this sudden attack. Then she extended a paw in my direction.“Because Max told us to!”

I did a double-take.“What? I did no such thing!”

“Yes, you did. You told us to find a way to get rid of the Boggles. And so we devised a plan to get rid of the Boggles.”

Little Janine and Little Janine now turned their ire on me.“I’m disappointed in you, Max,” said Little Janine.

“I’m also disappointed in you, Max,” said Little John.

“But I didn’t say anything about pooping on our guests’ pillows!”

“It was me,” said Prunella, now stepping to the fore. “I told them to do it.”

The two dogs’ eyes went wide. “You!” Little Janine cried. “But why?!”

“Yes, why is what I’m also wondering,” Little John chimed in.

“Because I could tell that Max and his friends weren’t happy that you guys moved in. And so I told them how I once managed to get rid of one of Opal’s unwanted guests by depositing a token of my lack of appreciation on his pillow. I got the idea fromThe Godfather,” she explained. “But since I couldn’t get hold of a horse’s head on such short notice I decided to get creative and say it with poo.”

Now Little Janine turned back to me.“You aren’t happy that we’re here?”

I regarded her a little shamefacedly.“I told you last night that you guys were being a little obnoxious, didn’t I? Treating us like serfs.”

“Yes, like the surfers from Downey Abbey,” Dooley confirmed.

“All I wanted was to have our peace and quiet back.”

“You can’t imagine what we’ve had to endure,” said Harriet. “First the baby arrived, causing us all to take a backseat to the little one’s wants and needs, and then you guys arrived and ate our food, took over our couch, used our litter boxes, spoiled our favorite rose bushes… It hasn’t been a fun experience.”

Little John and Little Janine had the decency to look contrite.“I know,” said Little Janine. “And I’ve already apologized.” Then she turned to her friend and housemate. “I told you not to eat everything and to leave some for the others.”

Little John gave me a sad look.“Traveling makes me stressed, Max. And when I’m stressed I want to eat. So I ate. All of it and then some. I’m sorry, you guys.”

“That’s all right,” I said. “I also like to eat when I’m stressed.”

“And also when you’re not stressed,” said Brutus with a grin.

“So I can sympathize.” I then glanced in Harriet and Brutus’s direction, and gave them an encouraging nod. When they still didn’t take the hint, I said, “And now Harriet and Brutus are also going to apologize for their appalling behavior.” And since they still looked reluctant, I gave Harriet a prod in the rear.

“Ow! What are you—okay, all right, I apologize. I shouldn’t have done what I did.” Though I had the distinct impression she was secretly proud of her work.

“I also want to apologize,” said Brutus with a big smirk. “I’m deeply, deeply sorry that I snuck into your humans’ bedroom last night—which actually is our humans’ bedroom—and left a message on their pillows. Though I can assure you it wasn’t easy. Janine is a light sleeper. For amoment there I thought she was going to wake up and catch me in the act. So to speak.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” I said. “I’m sure Little John and Little Janine aren’t interested to hear all the sordid details of your midnight marauding. And now I hope we can leave this entire episode behind us and move on.”

Little Janine nodded.“I forgive you, Brutus, Harriet… and you, Prunella.”

“Does your poo smell like roses, Prunella?” asked Dooley. “Cause you smell like roses.”

“I wish!” said Prunella. “No, I’m sure my poo smells like your poo, Dooley.”

“It does? So nice that we have something in common.”

And so we decided to let bygones be bygones. And I have to say that once we’d moved past our differences, we all got along like sailors on shore leave. And when Fifi also joined us, and even Rufus decided to drop by, the gang was complete and a wonderful time was had by all. At least until we were shooed out of the backyard by Opal, who said we were obstructing the camera’s view of the backyard, which she was going to use as the backdrop for the interview.

Once in Tex and Marge’s backyard, we were met with a peaceful sight: Tessa and Dante were enjoying a delicious breakfast, accompanied by Tex, Marge and Gran.

“You have a lovely home here, Marge,” said Tessa. “And a wonderful family.”

“I know,” said Marge, well pleased. “We’re very lucky, my husband and I.”

“And once we build that spa…” Gran began, but Marge shut her up with a single glance, and the old lady complied with an eye roll and a deep sigh.

“We were thinking of moving out here,” said Tessa. “You have such a great quality of life here in Hampton Cove.”

“Would be even better if we had a nice spa,” Gran muttered.

“Is it true that Janine and John are thinking of moving here?” asked Marge.

Tessa and Dante shared a look.“I don’t know,” said Dante. “Where have you heard that?”

“Oh, I heard it from someone, can’t remember who now. So is it true?”

“You’d have to ask them,” said Dante diplomatically. He glanced down at me. “Hey, I remember this big guy now. He visited us back in London, didn’t he?”

“I did,” I confirmed. “So where is Fluffy? Didn’t she come with you?”

“I seem to remember you had a dog?” said Marge, taking my hint.

“Oh, of course, Fluffy,” said Tessa. “We left him in LA. The kids, too.”

“Kids, plural?” I asked. My, my, they had been busy.

“Stop harassing the humans and let them enjoy their breakfast, Max,” said Prunella, and so I stopped harassing the humans and we ventured further into the backyard.

I could have explained to Prunella that harassing humans is what we did, but Little John seemed to have picked up a scent, for he was gesticulating excitedly in the direction of the hedge.“I think I’ve got something!” he cried. “Must be a tabloid reporter!”

“John has been training Little John to sniff out tabloid reporters and paparazzi,” Little Janine explained. “He dislikes them so much he’s even told Little John to bite first and ask questions later, though I doubt Little John is capable of physical violence. He’s more a peaceable kind ofdog.”

“Itis a tabloid reporter!” Little John cried, wagging his tail. “I’m sure of it!”

“What’s a tabloid reporter, Max?” asked Dooley.

“It’s a reporter who works for a tabloid,” said Harriet. “Isn’t that obvious?”

Dooley chewed on this for a moment, then said,“What’s a tabloid, Max?”

“It’s a type of newspaper that focuses on the more sensational stories,” I said.

“The more sensational the better,” Little Janine explained. “Unfortunately they don’t always distinguish between reality and fiction when they print their stuff.”

Little John was barking up a storm now, jumping up against the hedge that divides our backyard from the next.

“That’s not a tabloid reporter,” said Rufus gruffly. “That’s Ted. My human.”

“Oh?” said Little John, a disappointed look on his little face. Then he rallied, like any good guard dog would. “Is your human Ted a tabloid reporter?”

“He’s an accountant,” I said.

This should have been the final blow to Little John’s theory, but you can’t keep a good dog down. “So maybe he’s a tabloid reporter in his spare time?”

“No, he’s not,” Rufus snapped. “Now stop barking already, will you?”

“Oh, all right,” Little John said, standing down.

“Oh, neighbor!” Ted said, his head now popping over the hedge.

Tex threw down his napkin and came over.“Ted?”

Ted was holding up his headless gnome again.“The thing is, neighbor, that you said Big Papa’s head collapsed from plaster fatigue, remember?”

“I do remember, yes,” Tex confirmed.

Ted tapped his face with a thoughtful finger.“Now I was wondering… if my gnomes are suffering from plaster fatigue, why was only Big Papa affected? Why didn’t the heads of all my other gnomes turn to powder, too?”

“Well now, Ted,” said Tex, bending over the hedge, “I’m afraid I can’t give you an answer on that. You see, what you need is a gnome doctor, and I’m only a regular doctor.”

Ted gave Tex a look of suspicion.“A gnome doctor?”

“You know, like a tree doctor?”

“I’ve heard of a tree doctor, but I’ve never heard of a gnome doctor before.”

“Oh, they’re rare and highly sought after. But I can assure you they exist. One of my gnomes once suffered from a rare fungus. I was afraid it was mildew or wilt so I contacted a gnome doctor and he said it was, in fact, diplodia tip blight and gave me a fungicide and it cleared up within a couple of days.”

Ted moved his head back and forth in wonder.“Cleared it right up, huh?”

“It did indeed, Ted. Worked like a charm.”

“Can you give me the name of this wonder doctor, Tex?”

“I’m afraid he passed away. But if I were you—and I want you to remember I’m not a tree doctor, all right?”

“Of course, of course.”

“I’d get myself one of those powerful fungicides from the garden center and rub that stuff all over your gnomes. Really soak them in the stuff. It’s the only way to make sure they won’t suffer the same fate as the one you’re holding there.”

A sunny smile suddenly creased Ted’s face. “Why, thank you, Tex.”

“Don’t mention it, Ted. One of the perks of having a doctor as a neighbor.”

And as Ted went about his business, and so did Tex, Little John gave me a hopeful look.“Are you sure he’s not secretly a tabloid reporter, Max? Cause he sure looks like one and he definitely smells like one.”

“Will you stop with the tabloid stuff already?” said Little Janine. “Now for the most important question of the day. When and where is breakfast being served!”

It was a very important matter indeed, and so we all traipsed up to Marge, and I said,“Have you by any chance managed to replenish the kibble coffers, Marge?”

Marge smiled at this, and made the universal‘come hither’ sign by crooking her index finger. We followed her into the house, and lo and behold: no less than seven bowls stood awaiting us in the kitchen, all laden to the brim with delicious kibble, one for each pet.

“And there’s plenty more where this came from,” Marge announced as we all happily dug in. And when I lifted an upturned face to thank her, my eyes gleaming and glistening with honest gratitude, she added, “Don’t thank me. Thank Opal. She’s the one who decided to splurge. She felt you all deserved a treat.”

“I love Opal,” said Harriet.

“Now that’s my human for you,” said Prunella proudly.

CHAPTER 29

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Food is important, but since we didn’t want to miss Opal’s interview with Big John, we made sure not to linger so we had a front-row seat for the historic sit-down between the famous talk-show host and the politician and his wife.

By the time we returned to the house, the living room had been modified to Opal’s specifications, and lots of lamps had been placed just so, bathing the place in light. John looked less nervous than Janine, but then of course he probably has plenty of media experience.

Janine had dressed to impress, with a black dress and a gorgeous diamond pendant. Her blond tresses cascaded to her shoulders like a waterfall of gold.

“How do I look?” Janine inquired. “How is my hair? Do I have something between my teeth? Is my lipstick all right? Is it smeared across my teeth?”

“You look fine, my darling,” said Big John. “You look absolutely smashing.” He gave her a comforting pat on the knee, then adjusted his tie, which was a bright yellow number with little red bells. Very stylish. Or at least very noticeable.

The audience had been requested to remain absolutely quiet, and consisted of the entire Poole family, and also Tessa and Dante, who watched the proceedings with interest. It isn’t every day that you’re present when greatness is in the making.

“Okay, when you’re ready…” Opal prompted. She had donned a purple dress with a silver brooch and looked perhaps even more smashing than Janine, if that was even possible.

“Ready,” John said, giving Opal a goofy grin and two thumbs up.

“When is she going to interview Odelia?” Dooley whispered.

“I don’t think she’s going to interview Odelia,” I said. “This is all about John and Janine Boggle.”

“But we’re in Odelia’s home. She should at least do the introductions.”

“It doesn’t work like that, Dooley.”

“Oh.” He lapsed into silence while Opal set the scene to the viewers at home.

“So maybe Harriet could sing a song during the intermission?” Dooley piped up again. “Or Prunella. She’s such a great singer, isn’t she, Max?”

“She is, but now if you could please be quiet? I’d like to listen to the interview.”

“So, John, can you reveal something about your future plans?” Opal was saying. “A little birdie told me something about a possible Netflix deal? And a Spotify deal for a new podcast? And of course a big book deal? Is that true?”

John seemed to waver for a moment, then clasped Janine’s hand in his and said, “As you know, I’ve thought long and hard about this, Opal. And even though the things you suggest all sound very intriguing and very interesting indeed… I don’t think they are where my heart lies. If I’m absolutely honest with myself, what I want, what I really,really want… is to spend some quality time with my wife. These last couple of years have been pretty brutal on her—I think she’s spent more time with our dogs than with me. And now that I’ve decided to take a step back from the political arena, the next few years of my life are hers.”

Janine uttered a surprised gasp as Big John turned to her.

“Janine, I know you’ve been wanting to buy a house in Hampton Cove and start a family. Well, I want that, too. I want to have kids with you and I want to buy the house that your grandparents built and turn it into a home for us and the kids. At least,” he added, a touch of hesitance in his voice, “if that’s all right with you?”

“Oh, John,” said Janine, and promptly broke into a flood of tears.

“Why is she sad, Max?” asked Dooley. “I thought she wanted kids?”

“Those are tears of happiness, Dooley,” I said. “She’s so happy she’s crying.”

“Huh,” said Dooley, and I could tell he found this all very confusing indeed.

“So how about the Netflix deal, John?” Opal insisted. “And the book deal? And the Spotify deal?”

But John made a slicing gesture with his hand.“They’re all off the table, Opal. I’m not doing it.”

“Are you sure, John?”

“Yes, Opal. I want to be a dad. And a good husband. Nothing more than that.” And suddenly he, too, burst into a flood of tears. “Darn it! Now you made me cry!”

“Opal has that effect on people,” Prunella confirmed. “It’s her secret power.”

And when I looked around me, I saw that everyone was sobbing, even Chase!

“Are they all happy, Max?” asked Dooley, observing the same phenomenon.

“I guess so,” I said. It was disconcerting to see so many grown people cry, but we all know that humans are weird at the best of times. Hearing a man declare that he doesn’t want to be a billionaire but a dad must have touched a chord.

Of all the people present, Tex was actually crying the most. Then again, he might have been imagining how many gnomes one can buy for a billion dollars.

The interview wasn’t at an end, but Little John must have thought it was, for he suddenly started barking furiously, causing Opal to halt in mid-question.

“It’s a tabloid reporter!” Little John cried. “This time I’m sure! I can smell it!”

We all looked over to the window where the little doggie was pointing, and sure enough, an individual was peering in through the window and holding up his phone, presumably snapping shots of all of us.

“It’s Otis Robbins!” Tessa yelled. “He works for theDaily Pail!”

“I’ll give him a good bollocking,” Dante growled, getting up.

But before he could give him this bollocking, whatever a bollocking was, Little John and Little Janine were already on the case, hopping in the direction of the kitchen door, slipping out through the pet flap, and the next moment we were all treated to a scene of a tabloid reporter being accosted by two furious dogs!

“Get off!” the reporter was screaming. “Get off me!” But instead of heeding his call, the two dogs snapped at his heels and tried to get a bite out of his ankles. And so Mr. Robbins quickly skedaddled, and as we moved to the front of the house, we could all see through the window how the man was being chased down the street, Big John and Janine’s dogs right on his tail!

“Good riddance,” said Tessa. “I can’t believe he followed us all the way here.”

“I think he was following us,” said Big John. “He’s not a big fan of my work.”

“Or mine,” said Janine as she dabbed at her eyes. “My face is a mess, isn’t it?”

“Your face is beautiful,” said John as he gave her a tender kiss on the cheek. “And so are you.”

“Did you really mean what you said? About buying my grandparents’ house and starting a family?”

“Of course. There’s nothing I want more.”

“Can you please save it for the interview,” asked Opal, clapping her hands. “Let’s get back into position, folks. I’m not done with you yet!”

A crackling sound came from the baby monitor, and we all looked up. The next moment Grace’s loud wailing sounded through the room and Chase quickly got up. “I’ll go,” he assured his wife.

“She probably needs a new diaper,” said Odelia.

“Don’t worry, I’ll do it,” said Chase, and was off at a trot.

“A glimpse into the future, John,” Opal remarked. “This is going to be your life from now on.”

John gulped, then promptly teared up again, and started blubbering like a baby.

“Look how happy he is,” said Dooley. “He can’t wait to start changing diapers!”

CHAPTER 30

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“I wish there was an Opal for pets,” said Little Janine with a sigh. “The things I would tell her…”

“I could be the Opal for pets,” said Harriet. “I think I’d do a great job. And the camera obviously loves me.”

“Don’t we already have an Opal for pets?” asked Dooley, and gestured to Prunella.

Harriet gave Prunella a not-so-friendly look.“You have to have the ambition to become a world-famous talk-show host, of course, and I’m not sure Prunella has that ambition.”

“Definitely not,” was Prunella’s response. “Though if Opal keeps cloning me I could have a very long career in show biz. An indefinite career, in fact.”

Now there was a thought. Since the original Prunella had been cloned several times, and this particular Prunella was the sixteenth iteration of the original version, she probably had a point. And if pets could be cloned, why not famous talk-show hostesses?

“Opal should have herself cloned,” I suggested. “She could keep doing what she’s doing… in perpetuity!”

“Interesting suggestion,” said Prunella. “Maybe you can talk to your people, and they can talk to my people.”

The interview was finally in the can, and all those gathered seemed pleased as punch. Except for one person, who stood musing on the sidelines, and regarding Opal with a grave expression on his royal face.

“Prince Dante looks unhappy,” said Brutus. “I wonder what’s wrong with him.”

We were about to find out, since he now approached Opal and whispered something in her ear. A moment later the two walked out into the backyard. And since curiosity is a cat’s second name, we all followed, wondering what was up.

“The thing is, Opal,” said Prince Dante, clearing his throat, “that all this talk about becoming a billionaire and signing lucrative deals left and right… Well, I’m not sure it’s really my thing, you know.”

Opal stood listening intently to the young royal.“What do you mean?” Then she held up her hands. “Oh, no. Don’t tell me you want to move to Hampton Cove and live the quiet life, too!”

“Actually… I was thinking more along the lines of doing the exact opposite.” He released a deep sigh. “I’ve been feeling so homesick I could cry, Opal.”

“You want to move back to England.”

He nodded furiously.“I miss my friends, I miss my family. I miss… polo matches and cricket games. LA is all fine and dandy, and the weather is a nice bonus, but… I even miss the rain, can you believe it? Rain and snow and smog!”

“Have you discussed this with Tessa?”

“No, I have not.”

Opal planted both hands on her sizable hips.“Why not, pray tell?”

The prince shrugged.“I’m afraid that if I tell her she won’t like it. And besides, what’s the point? She’ll never want to leave home and return to my country.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that, sonny Jim,” said Opal. She placed a hand on the young man’s arm. “You want my advice?”

He nodded anxiously.

“Talk to your wife. Tell her how you feel. You can’t keep this to yourself, Dante. This is an important discussion and if you keep bottling up those feelings they’re going to form a barrier in your relationship. They’re going to eat you up inside.”

The young prince’s bottom lip was quivering dangerously as he took this in.

“He’s going to cry,” said Brutus.

“No, he’s not,” said Harriet.

“I think he’s going to laugh,” said Dooley, who always has trouble reading human emotions. “See? He’s going to burst into a big laugh any moment now.”

But instead, the prince suddenly burst into a flood of tears, and as Opal gave him a big hug and patted his back consolingly, he was letting it all out.

“Oh, Opal, I just want to go hoooooooome!” he blubbered.

“There, there,” said Opal. “Don’t hold back.”

And he certainly didn’t.

The next moment Tessa came walking up, drawn by the wailing sounds, and so Opal transferred the teary prince to her care, walking away with an expression on her face that unmistakably said:‘I still got it, you guys!’

“Isn’t this annoying for you?” I asked Prunella, “that wherever your human goes people spontaneously burst into tears?”

“Oh, you get used to it,” said Prunella as we moved back into the house.

“I really thought he was going to laugh,” said Dooley. “Humans are very hard to read, Max.”

“I know, Dooley. They’re a strange species.”

Once inside, Marge also approached Opal for a brief one-on-one, and they removed themselves from the scene. But since I had a feeling she was going to use this opportunity to complain about Gran’s bathroom habits, I decided not to follow. After all, there’s only so many heartfelt tears a cat can stand in one day.

CHAPTER 31

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“So what have we learned, Dooley?”

“That politicians have feelings, too, and that princes like rain?”

“And that when your brother-in-law is dating the mayor you shouldn’t build illegal bathrooms in your backyard,” I said. Especially when that mayor is a regular guest in that same backyard and can see firsthand what you’re up to.

Charlene might be a good friend of the family, but that didn’t mean she was prepared to turn a blind eye to shoddy building work constructed without the necessary permissions. And so as quickly as it began, Tex’s DIY project came to an end. It had taken the united efforts of the good doctor, Chase and Alec to resurrect the garden house in its full splendor—more or less—and a strong-worded convo between Opal and Gran to get the latter to promise to be more considerate in the future when using her allotted bathroom time, to put an end to this episode.

I settled back on the porch swing, after having eaten my fill of the tender meat Odelia had placed before us, and sighed contentedly. It takes your home being overrun by guests to realize how perfect your life really is. Odelia had revealed to us that she wasn’t actually planning to turn her house into an Airbnb—or a home in the sky, as Dooley referred to it—and the guests who had come, had now gone.

“They could at least have stayed for the barbecue,” said Dooley as he began licking his paws.

“I think Tex’s reputation as a grill master precedes him,” I said. “And since no one likes to run the risk of being poisoned, they decided it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

“At least we’ll still see them, since John and Janine are moving to Hampton Cove.” He glanced around. “Where are Harriet and Brutus, by the way?”

“In the rose bushes.” Ever since Odelia had discovered that our canine visitors had turned her backyard into a dog lavatory, she’d removed the last vestiges of Little John and Little Janine’s sanitary deposits, much to our eternal gratitude.

John and Janine had found a place to stay in town, and had started negotiations to buy back the house Janine’s grandparents built. And as Dooley had indicated, Little John and Little Janine had become a fixture at dog choir.

“You could always build a composting toilet, Tex,” Charlene now suggested.

The humans were all gathered around the family table, while Tex provided them with nuggets of delicious food, straight from the grill (with the kind but insistent assistance of his son-in-law and brother-in-law).

“Don’t you need permission to build a composting toilet?” asked Gran.

“Well, no, actually. And it’s a lot easier to install than outdoor plumbing.”

“You can always use our bathroom, Dad,” said Odelia. “Just pop in any time.”

“Thanks, honey,” said Tex, looking slightly embarrassed to be discussing his bathroom needs with the rest of the family.

“Or you could buy yourself an RV and park it out here,” Scarlett suggested.

Charlene grimaced.“I’m afraid you can’t use an RV as an annex to your home, Scarlett. It has to permanently retain its means of mobility to leave its location at any time.”

“Holy fudge,” said Scarlett. “Did you learn the entire municipal code by heart?”

“As a matter of fact I had another citizen come in last week who wanted to do the exact same thing: install an RV in his backyard. So I had my administration look it up. Which is why I can tell you that I strongly advise against the idea, Tex.”

“My suggestion is to knock down that back wall and do your business in Blake’s field,” said Gran. “Nothing like an early-morning tinkle in nature.”

Tex’s cheeks colored. “Okay, so we have sausages, burgers, delicious ribs…”

“I have the impression he doesn’t like to talk about his bathroom habits, Max,” said Dooley.

“Who does? It’s a very private part of our existence, Dooley. Not something to discuss over dinner.”

“I don’t mind. I can discuss my bathroom habits all day long. For instance, this morning I noticed Odelia has switched litter. The new kind has this weird smell.”

“It’s called baby powder,” I said. “And it’s supposed to be very popular.”

Dooley’s jaw fell. “Baby powder! But, Max! Why do babies have to die so our litter can smell nice?!”

“What are you talking about?” I said, as I eyed a piece of sausage coming my way as carried by Marge, who kindly deposited it between my front paws.

“Powderized babies, Max. We’ve been doing our business on dead babies!”

“Baby powder is made from talc, Dooley, which is a mineral. No babies are harmed in the making of the stuff. Now eat your sausage.”

“Yes, Max.”

And for the next few moments only the sounds of chewing could be heard, as we masticated our meaty treat. But you can’t keep a chatty cat quiet, and Dooley said, “I’m glad it’s just us again, Max. It’s fun to have guests, but it’s even more fun to watch them leave.”

Which is the slogan of Airbnb if I’m not mistaken. But he was right, of course. I was glad to have the place to ourselves again. Opal and Prunella had returned to LA in their private jet and I’m sure Opal had gone right back to reducing celebrities to tears with her in-depth interviews. Tessa and Prince Dante had a long talk about their future, and decided to get a second home in London and fly back and forth more regularly from now on. And maybe hold off on the ambition of world domination for the time being. And John and Janine had moved into the Star Hotel for now, while negotiations were underway to acquire the house her grandparents built and turn it into their new family home away from home.

But of course that’s not what you are interested in, is it? The question that is burning on your lips right now is whether Ted Trapper finally found a cure for the plaster fatigue his gnomes are suffering from. And I’m happy to say that the answer to that question is an emphatic yes and a four-chair turn. Ever since Ted started rubbing his gnomes with a powerful fungicide, no more gnomes have lost their heads, which makes Tex’s gnome-loving neighbor a very happy man indeed.

“So… Max?”

“Mh?”

“Is it true that cats are more intelligent than dogs?”

I frowned at my friend.“Where did that come from?”

“Oh, just something Gran said the other day. She said dogs come from wolves, while cats come from lions and tigers. And everyone knows that lions are a lot cleverer than wolves and when it came to a showdown lions would win paws down because lions are the king of the jungle and wolves aren’t.” He’d said all that without taking a single breath of air, which amazed me. “So that means that we are king of Hampton Cove and we can eat dogs for breakfast, right? Right, Max?”

From over on the Trapper side of the hedge, Rufus had joined us, and from over on Kurt’s side, Fifi now came tripping up and hopped up onto the porch.

“What’s going on, you guys?” said Fifi happily. “Mh, sausage,” she added when Chase walked by and dropped a piece of sausage in her lap.

“I love sausage,” said Rufus in his deep voice and gave Chase a look of absolute devotion when the latter extended him the same sausage-dispensing courtesy.

When he saw that we were suddenly cornered by dogs, Dooley gulped a little.“Okay, so let’s just say that when it comes to a showdown between a cat and a dog, it might be a draw. But only just,” he quickly added.

“What is he talking about?” asked Rufus.

“Dooley thinks cats are smarter than dogs,” said Fifi.

“I didn’t think you heard,” Dooley muttered as he shrank a little.

“I may not be as clever as you, Dooley, but there’s nothing wrong with my ears, thank you very much. Mh, this is some good stuff. Tex is definitely improving.”

“I’m sorry, Fifi,” said Dooley. “I just want to say that I consider you an honorary cat. You, too, Rufus.”

Rufus frowned.“What does that even mean?”

“It means that I don’t think of you as a dog but as a cat. Well, almost. You’re not a real cat, of course… Not like me, I mean. You’re like… a wannabe cat?”

Both Rufus and Fifi were exchanging amused glances.

“What I mean is…” He blinked, discovering he’d talked himself into a corner.

“I think you better stop talking now, Dooley,” I suggested.

“No, but I mean—what I actually mean is…” Finally he gave up. “I have no idea what I mean. I just want to say is that I like you, Rufus, and I like you, Fifi, and it doesn’t matter if you’re a cat or a dog, I consider you both my best friends.”

“Aww,” said Fifi, and gave Dooley a nudge. “That’s sweet of you to say, Dooley.”

“Yeah, very considerate,” said Rufus. “For a cat you’re okay, Dooley.”

“Not as okay as a dog, obviously,” said Fifi. “But you’re not so bad.”

At Dooley’s look of confusion, they both laughed. And when Dooley finally realized they were pulling his paw, he smiled and said, “Oh, you guys!”

We might make fun of dogs in these chronicles of mine from time to time, but at the end of the day I think dogs are just swell. But please don’t tell them I said that. They just might grow too big for their britches—or their collars.

50. 5. 1. PURRFECT FUZZ

CHAPTER 1

The sun was rising to its zenith, not stinting on the good stuff, and as is my habit on days when the world seems to have turned into the inner workings of an oven, my day had mainly consisted of me dragging myself from one place to another, in search of some cool and basically engaging in as limited levels of physical activity as felinely possible. You see, humans, when they get too hot, like to take a cold shower, or at least a lukewarm one, or a dip in the pool, if they’re lucky enough to have a pool. Cats, unfortunately, are not in the position to enjoy either. We don’t like the sensation of being submerged in water, whatever its temperature, and so the paddling pool Chase, our human’s husband, had recently splurged on and dragged home from the store, didn’t appeal to us to any extent.

Quite the contrary, in fact. The mere sight of that paddling pool filled me with a profound and deeply unsettling sense of primordial dread.

Once upon a time Odelia had had the bright idea to teach us how to swim, but it soon dawned on her this idea was fraught with certain flaws. Namely the fact that cats don’t like to come anywhere near the water. And also, who needs swimming? Cats aren’t fish. We don’t go about thrashing in the surf or some duck-infested pond. We are smart enough to steer well clear from such silly folly.

“I don’t know, Max,” my friend Dooley was saying. “Maybe weshould take that dip in the pool after all? Odelia keeps saying it’s the best way to cool off. And she does look very happy and refreshed, doesn’t she?”

We both darted a dubious glance in our human’s direction. Odelia was lazing about by the pool, sunglasses perched on her nose, a big floppy straw hat on top of her head, reading what is commonly termed a beach read, even though we weren’t on the beach but in our own backyard. She and Chase occupied a pair of pool loungers, taking turns keeping an eye on baby Grace. Chase, too, was sporting sunglasses, and was merely dressed in a pair of boxers and plenty of suntan lotion. And if we scan further down the line, Marge was also occupying a lounge chair, dressed in much the same minimal outfit as her daughter and son-in-law, as was her husband Tex and even Gran, who usually isn’t one for being exposed to the rays of the sun, since she claims every discerning adult knows that our good old friend the sun’s rays are lethal when administered in ample doses.

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” I said. Though the water did appear to have a cooling effect on our humans, as each time they got too hot for comfort, they took turns to frolic in their paddling pool, then returned to their position on their respective loungers to become engrossed in their respective beach reads.

The paddling pool was pretty impressive. It wasn’t one of those small kiddie pools, as had been Chase’s preference in previous years. This time the entire family had pooled their resources and acquired a sturdy specimen that stood five feet tall and ten feet wide and took up a pretty big chunk of backyard real estate. It was constructed of sterner stuff, not the squishy plastic that makes a funny noise when you lean into it. It had taken the concerted efforts of Chase, Tex and Uncle Alec to erect the monstrosity, much against the cat contingent’s protestations, since frankly we all thought the contraption an eyesore of the first order. And dangerous, to boot.

“The ladder is a neat addition,” Harriet remarked. Our prissy Persian friend was the least impressed by the addition to the backyard furniture. Then again, when you have fur as gorgeous as a Persian, the last thing you want is for it to get wet. Water does funny things to fur, and Harriet did not want to be the object of ridicule by being exposed to the noxious substance.

“It’s a death trap if you ask me,” said her mate Brutus. The black cat had been eyeing the pool with a weary eye from the moment it had arrived. “And what are they going to do with all that water once the weather turns? There’s enough water in there to irrigate a small field. Can you imagine what will happen when they let all that water drain into our backyard? It’s going to create a tidal wave of biblical proportions. We’re all going to be swept away if we’re not careful!”

“I don’t think we’ll be swept away,” said Harriet, “but I have to admit that the thought of all that water barely being contained by that flimsy plastic is giving me nightmares, snookums. It only takes one crack for disaster to strike.”

“I think the paddling pool is the most dangerous invention known to man,” Brutus grunted, and placed his head on his front paws, without taking his eyes off the thing for even a single second. “More dangerous even than the atom bomb.”

“Do you think it’s dangerous, Max?” asked Dooley, a note of concern in his voice.

“I don’t know, Dooley. But I’m definitely not going anywhere near the thing, that’s for sure.”

“Oh, boy,” my friend said. “I just hope that dam won’t burst before we have a chance to get as far away as we can.”

I had raised our concern with Odelia, but she had merely smiled indulgently and given me a pat on the head. Clearly she wasn’t taking our concerns seriously, or else she would never have agreed so enthusiastically when Chase had floated the idea at the outset of summer. I frankly had hoped Marge would have more sense, seeing as she was married to a doctor, and we all know that doctors are trained to deal with life anddeath type of situations. But even Tex hadn’t shown a single sign of worry, and neither had Marge. On the contrary. Tex had actually yipped with joy at the notion of the Poole family acquiring their own private pool.

“The Poole pool is now officially open for the season!” he’d exclaimed the moment the pool had been erected and filled up with water. The silly nut.

CHAPTER 2

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I don’t know if you’ve ever noticed, but a paddling pool, even if slightly too big for mere paddling, is a magnet for all kinds of vermin. And I’m not talking about your rodent type of vermin either, but the winged kind. It didn’t take long for the Poole pool to fill up with flies, mosquitoes, beetles and other more exotic-looking bugs. On the third day of the paddling pool extravaganza Gran even swallowed what she later claimed was the biggest beetle she’d ever seen—or ingested. She surfaced spluttering and choking, and Marge was already urging her husband to step in and perform mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, a prospect I could tell Tex looked forward to with as much excitement as the filling out of his tax return, but lucky for the good doctor his irascible mother-in-law managed to crawl out of the pool under her own steam, loudly complaining about the giant bug that now residedin her stomach, where it had found its final resting place, the poor thing.

“I told you to clean out your pool, Tex Poole!” she loudly lamented, directing her ire at Tex as if he was the one to blame for this unfortunate mishap.

“I did!” said Tex. “I scooped out all the bugs this morning with the skimmer!”

“Well, you didn’t scoop good enough, cause I just swallowed the Titanic of bugs. That sucker must have been at least two inches!”

“If you’d swallowed a two-inch bug you wouldn’t be talking to us right now,” said Marge, coming to her husband’s defense. “You’d be gargling and choking and throwing up whatever it was that you swallowed.”

“I still might,” said Gran as she placed a hand on her tummy, as if to try and figure out what this monster bug was up to down there.

Meanwhile, the four of us had found respite underneath the rose bushes at the bottom of the backyard, though respite is probably too optimistic a word for the oppressive heat that still permeated the atmosphere. It felt as if Hampton Cove had turned into a crockpot, and we were slowly being brought to a boil.

“I think it’s global warming,” Harriet now posited.

“Global warming?” asked Dooley. “What’s global warming?”

“Like the word says, it’s warm and it’s… global,” said Harriet, darting a helpless look at her mate. Harriet isn’t big on nature shows, or any type of documentary. She prefers to give her attention to her cherished reality shows, which only rarely cover topics as fascinating or worryingas global warming.

“Global warming is a hot topic right now,” Brutus agreed, though he clearly had no clue what his beloved was referring to either. “Though not as big, obviously,” he hastened to add, “as global cooling, which is even worse.”

I’d never heard of global cooling, though it certainly sounded like a daunting prospect. “I think global warming refers to the idea that temperatures are rising on a global scale,” I ventured, though I was a novice on the subject myself.

All around us, birds were singing their songs in a sort of haphazard or desultory fashion. Clearly even they were being affected by the heat. Which is why it surprised me when suddenly one of these winged creatures suddenly materialized on a branch near me, and addressed me thusly:“Yo, you Max?”

“Yep, that’s me,” I said, staring at the intrepid bird. He was a bird of vivid plumage, with streaks of red and green in all the right places, and was staring at me in a brazen fashion.

I must say its behavior surprised me somewhat, since it’s not often that birds are so keen to approach what are commonly considered their natural enemy. Then again, the four of us were in such a state of lethargy and general torpidity that we wouldn’t have moved a paw or claw in anger at a bird even if we’d wanted to.

As it was, even the mere effort of striking up a conversation with this sudden newcomer was taking more energy than I was frankly prepared to expend.

“I have a message for you, Max,” said the bird, deftly straightening a crooked feather with its beak.

“A message?” I said, making an effort to look both surprised and intrigued. “What message? From who?”

“Whom,” Dooley corrected me immediately.

“Can’t tell you,” said the bird curtly, “but the message goes as follows: ‘Your assistance in a matter of the greatest importance is required ASAP. Please proceed to the old shack in Blake Carrington’s field. You will be richly rewarded.’” The bird stared at me expectantly, gauging my response to this mysterious missive.

I think our feathered friend must have been disappointed, for I merely stared at the fluttery creature.“I don’t get it,” I said finally, presumably a testament to the sluggishness of my mental processes at that very moment.

The bird shook its tiny head.“And here I thought you were so clever.”

I blinked.“The person who gave you this message said I was clever?”

The bird nodded thoughtfully, but I thought I could detect a glimmer of scorn in its beady little eyes. Then again, it’s very hard to read a bird’s face. I don’t know if you’ve ever noticed, but birds have particularly expressionless faces. If birds were allowed to enter casinos and place bets, I think they’d beat any poker player hands down. Then again, since birds don’t carry wallets, it would be tough for them to pay for their chips, or even collect and tuck away their winnings.

“Look, I’m just the messenger here,” said the bird finally, with a tiny shrug of its tiny shoulders. “So you do with the message what you will. But I can assure you that my client is for real, and you’d be well-advised to do as you’re told.”

The bird cocked its head, gave me a final scrutinizing glance, then flew off in a flutter of wings and feathers and was gone as unexpectedly as it had arrived.

“Birds aren’t as affected by this global warming as we are, are they, Max?” said Dooley as he lazily watched the bird take flight and disappear from sight.

“That’s because birds are a lot smaller than us cats,” said Brutus. “The smaller a creature, the less affected they are by things like heat or cold and such.”

It was an interesting theory, and one I didn’t know was true or not, but I must say that the bird’s message had certainly piqued my curiosity, heat or no heat.

“So are you going to this meeting?” asked Harriet, who was fanning herself with her tail, which I couldn’t see made much sense at all. Moving her tail required a considerable effort, which would cause her to get even hotter.

“I’m not sure,” I said. “I mean, I want to, but for the life of me I can’t imagine why anyone would use a bird to set up a meeting.”

“And then of course you gotta ask yourself who’d set up a meeting with you,” said Brutus, nodding. “Unless it’s some kind of predator and they want to eat you.” He produced a low chuckle at his own little joke.

“I think I should go with you, Max,” said Dooley. “Just in case it’s a trap.”

“If it’s a trap whoever is setting this up will catch you both,” Harriet pointed out.

“Why don’t we all go,” Brutus suggested, yawning cavernously. “Max will go to this shack out on that field, while the three of us hang back and keep an eye out for possible danger. Then in case he does get caught—”

“We can fight back!” Dooley said excitedly.

“—we can run and get help,” Brutus finished.

“So basically you’re going to use me as bait,” I said in conclusion.

Brutus shrugged.“It’s your call, Maxie baby. Either you sit this one out and spend the rest of your life wondering what this meeting was all about. Or you put yourself out there and brave danger.”

The prospect of braving danger didn’t hold a lot of appeal to me, but I had to admit that Brutus had a point. If I didn’t go, I’d wonder what this strange message from that irreverent bird was all about. And I must say I’m a sucker for a mystery.

So I finally heaved a deep sigh.“Oh, all right. Let’s go and find out.”

CHAPTER 3

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There is a great divide between the civilized part of our wonderful neighborhood, or more in particular our backyard, and what we like to call the wild, more specifically the field that stretches out behind the house. It belongs to a local businessman named Blake Carrington, who has been reluctant to either sell or develop the land, since it’s where his only son and heir died in a car crash many moons ago, which lends it an extra-creepy vibe in my personal opinion and that of many others. Unfortunately for us the field is extensively used by the local dog population and its collective ownership for their daily sanitary requirements,and is now probably teeming with discarded dog excrement and other canine droppings. In other words: it’s pretty much a wasteland in any sense of the word.

And it was exactly here that this unknown sender of that message wanted to meet yours truly. I don’t know if you’re at all familiar with the expression ‘Curiosity killed the cat?’ The inference being that cats are too nosy for their own good, and their innate sense of curiosity tends to get them in trouble more than is good for them and their sense of wellbeing. Then again, it has also made us the number one sleuthhounds in our small town, regularly assisting our humans in word and deed in solving the most baffling of crimes and misdemeanors by a wide variety of the denizens of the criminal underworld who would otherwise step wide and plentiful and perform their acts of lawlessness unimpeded.

“So that’s settled then, isn’t it, Max?” said Brutus. “You go ahead and keep your appointment with this stranger while the rest of us lurk in those bushes over there and make sure we’re ready to take off the moment danger pops up.”

I nodded, still not entirely convinced that Brutus’s idea was a sound one. “So what if this person or persons unknown grab Max and shove him into the boot of their car and take off?” asked Harriet, showcasing sound reasoning, I thought.

“Look around, tootsie roll,” said Brutus with a wide sweep of his paw. “There’s no cars anywhere. No sign of danger of any kind. Probably this is the work of an admirer who wants to meet our buddy Max in the flesh—God only knows why.”

“An admirer?” asked Dooley, glancing around excitedly. “You think they’ll want to take a selfie with Max? Is that what this is all about?”

“I very much doubt it,” I said, adding my two cents to the discussion. “Who in their right mind would want to take a selfie with me?”

“Truer words were never spoken,” Brutus grunted as he gave me a pat on the back that almost made me buckle. “But then we shouldn’t discard the fact that there are a lot of weirdos out there, and maybe one of them has gotten it into their nut that Max is their personal hero. I mean, some women write to prisoners on death row, expressing their admiration, and even Charles Manson had a fan club of adoring fans.” He shrugged. “It’s a funny old world out there, you guys.”

I didn’t know whether to be insulted or bucked up by being compared to a well-known psychopath, but I decided to let the comment slide. “I still think you should come along with me. Four are better equipped to deal with this unusual situation than one.”

“No, no, no, Maxie!” said Brutus. “This person is obviously of the timid persuasion. Otherwise he’d have simply rung the front doorbell and asked for you instead of sending this homing pigeon to get in touch with you.”

I would have pointed out that whoever it was that had set up the meet and greet was probably a pet, just like us, and so not in a position to ring any front doorbells. Also, I had a strong suspicion the bird who had delivered the message wasn’t a homing pigeon. Then again, I’m not an ornithologist, so I said nothing.

“Better get a move on,” Brutus urged. “Or else whoever is meeting you will figure you’re a no-show and skedaddle. And we’ll never know what they wanted.”

“Maybe he’s a distant uncle and wants to include you in his will,” Dooley suggested.

“How do you figure that?” asked Brutus with a frown.

“Well, maybe he feels death closing in, and before he dies wants to leave his little bundle of worldly possessions to Max, his only living relative. Only since he doesn’t know Max from Adam, due to a rift in the family, he first wants to ascertain whether Max is a worthy recipient of his treasure.”

“Treasure!”’ Harriet cried, a sudden gleam of interest appearing in her eyes.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” I said, holding up my paws. “First off, I don’t have any distant uncles, as far as I know, or even not-so-distant ones, and second, who has ever heard of a cat amassing treasure?”

“It’s possible,” Dooley said, not wanting to let go of his exciting theory without a fight.

“Yeah, just think about Diego,” said Harriet. “Diego is probably bursting at the seams with treasure by now.”

Diego is a cat we once encountered, who had been adopted by Kitty Nala, daughter of the president and founder of Feline’s Gold, manufacturer of Cat Snax, and now presumably lived like a prince in one of Kitty’s many mansions.

“Cats don’t amass treasure,” I pointed out. “By definition any wealth a cat possesses belongs to his or her human.”

“Mh,” said Harriet dubiously.

“Just go and take your appointment, will you?” said Brutus, clearly getting tired of this pointless discussion. “And if there’s treasure to be had,” he said after a moment’s reflection, “don’t forget that I’ve always been your best friend, Max.”

“I thought I was Max’s best friend,” Dooley piped up.

“If Max has a best friend, surely it’s me,” said Harriet. “Isn’t that so, Maxie?” she cooed, and gave me a gentle nudge with her shoulder, causing Brutus to produce a low guttural growl of displeasure.

Oh, boy.

CHAPTER 4

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I approached the site of the meeting with all my senses on high alert. I hadn’t forgotten the slightly sneering quality of the bird transmitting the missive, and it struck me as particularly sinister that a derelict shack on a weed-infested field would be the place for this peculiar meet. All around, crickets were producing their signature buzzing sound, but apart from that, no sound reached my ears except the occasional lawnmower going off in the distance. In other words, the sounds of summer. I was suddenly reminded of those old westerns, where John Wayne or Gary Cooper are lured to a showdown with the bad guys in the middle of nowhere. Only I didn’t have a gun in my holster. Heck, I didn’t even have a holster! Still, I had my three friends nearby, and I had my catlike reflexes, which hopefully would save me in the event of an ambush, which was a definite possibility.

When you’ve been fighting crime for as long as I have, instrumental in collaring numerous criminals, there’s no doubt that you make a certain number of enemies. So perhaps one of those enemies had decided to get some of their own back and exact revenge on the feline who had put him or her behind bars?

Odelia has a tendency to write editorials in theHampton Cove Gazette, joking about how her cat assists her in solving crime. I’ve already told her she shouldn’t draw attention to our unusual cooperation, but she says it puts a smile on people’s faces to imagine how a cat could collar a criminal. She says it’s droll.

And while that may be true, I would think that there is at least one person who wouldn’t be smiling or thinking it was droll: the one nibbling on a piece of moldy bread and swigging tap water in the local pen! They’d be plotting their revenge, and the one who’d get it in the neck, more than likely, is little old me!

I swallowed away a lump of unease, and tried to discard the myriad thoughts of doom and gloom swirling in my noggin, and instead pricked up my sensitive ears, tweaked my even more sensitive whiskers, and generally readied myself for a possible showdown. If Odelia had been there, she probably would have been inspired to call her latest editorial Bad Day at Black Rock, if only there was a black rock in the vicinity! As it was, there wasn’t any rock, black or otherwise, only waist-high weeds and plenty of dog excrement dotting the arid landscape.

And of course that derelict shack, which didn’t inspire cheery thoughts either. I finally arrived at destination’s end, and took up my vigil, nervously awaiting coming events, darting anxious glances in the direction of the bushes where my friends were lying in wait, ready to pounce at a moment’s notice, or so I hoped.

The crickets droned on, as did that lone lawnmower, and soon the suffocating heat began to thoroughly suppress my joie de vivre, as did the prospect of being like Cary Grant in that movie where he’s being chased across the fields by a crop duster. The moment the thought entered my mind, I glanced up. Lucky for me, not a single crop duster marred the perfect azure of the summer sky. And I must have been sitting there for what felt like hours, though in actual fact only ten minutes had passed, when suddenly a soft squeaking sound reached my ears.

I frowned and glanced around, trying to pinpoint the source of the odd sound. I glanced to the left, I glanced to the right, but couldn’t immediately locate where that squeaking sound was coming from. Finally I happened to glance down, and there, sitting between my paws, its sharp nose poking out from between the grass, a tiny creature sat. I immediately recognized it as a member of the murine family. In other words: a field mouse, which was apt, since we were in a field.

“Hey there, little fella,” I said. “Careful now, I could have stepped on you.”

“Are you Max?” asked the mouse now. “Greatest detective that ever lived?”

I would have demurred, but even though I’m a modest cat, I’m also only feline, after all, and not immune to praise, so I grinned and said, “Yup, that’s me.”

The little mouse’s face cleared. “Oh, joy!” he said. “Oh, happy day! Am I glad to meet you, Max. There’s something I want you to do for me. At least, if you’re not too busy with one of your many, many highly important cases.”

“I guess I could squeeze you in. Are you the one I was asked to meet here?”

“Yeah, that’s me,” said the mouse. “I didn’t know how to reach you, and then I happened to meet Francis, and he said he knew where you lived, so I asked him to deliver you a message, and here you are! Oh, joy, Max! Oh, happy, happy day!”

“And Francis is…”

“A bird, yes,” said the mouse. “Now I know this must seem strange to you, that a mouse would be friends with a bird. After all, most birds would only be too happy to eat me with hide and hair, but Francis isn’t like that. He’s one of those rare birds who says live and let live. In other words, he doesn’t feel the urge to eat a fella just because he happens to be a mouse. In fact Francis very sensibly prefers to snack on seeds and nuts and such for his daily nourishment.”

“That’s very kind of Francis,” I murmured, wondering what this was all about. “So what is it I can for you, um…”

“Jack,” said the mouse. “My name is Jack.” He held out a tiny paw, and I gave him an awkward sort of fist bump, since I couldn’t very well shake his paw now could I? I might have crushed him if I had. For even for a mouse, a tiny creature in and of itself, he was very small. Which is why it had taken me a while to spot him.

“Now look here, Max,” said Jack, prepared to finally get down to brass tacks. “I’m in a kind of pickle here, and I hope you can get me out of it.”

“Do you mind if my friends join us, Jack?” I asked. “Only, it’s probably easier if you only have to tell your tale once, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Friends?” he asked with a sudden touch of alarm. “What friends?”

“Even the greatest detectives on the planet can’t do everything themselves,” I explained. “I have friends who assist me, and they’re right over there, waiting for me to give them a sign that it’s safe to come on over and join us.”

“Oh, I see what you mean,” said Jack, nodding. “Your sidekicks.”

“Absolutely,” I said, and waved to my friends, still lurking in the bushes. Only no matter how much I waved or even raised my voice and shouted that the coast was clear, there was no response from my contingent of ‘assistants.’

Finally I could see Dooley’s head pop up, and excitedly wave back at me.

I made a gesture with my paw that they should come over, and eventually the trio came trotting up.

“So it was a bust, huh?” said Brutus. “I thought as much. That bird must have been a joker. Pulling your paw just for fun and giggles.”

“Oh, no,” I said. “That bird was for real. Look here, you guys. This is Jack, and he’s engaging our services for a most important assignment.”

Brutus now looked down in the direction I was pointing, and when he spotted Jack, did a quick double take.“Is that… a mouse?” he said.

“Yep, I’m a mouse,” said Jack. “Excellent powers of observation, cat.” Then he frowned uncertainly. “You’re… not going to eat me, are you?”

“Of course Brutus isn’t going to eat you,” I said laughingly. “What do you take us for?”

“Well, cats have been known to eat the likes of me,” Jack said, not incorrectly.

“We’re not the mouse-eating type of cats. In the sense that we’re very much like your friend Francis and prefer to get our nourishment elsewhere.”

“Walmart, mainly,” said Dooley, studying the mouse intently. “You’re very small for a mouse, Jack,” he said finally.

“I know,” said Jack sadly. “I’ve always been small for my age, and as I grow older I seem to be getting even smaller. Though that could be because my brothers and sisters keep getting bigger, so in comparison I seem to be shrinking.”

“They’re… not around, are they, your brothers and sisters?” asked Harriet, glancing around nervously.

“Oh, no,” said Jack.

“Good,” said Harriet with a sigh of relief. Once upon a time Harriet and Brutus had a close encounter with a family of mice who had taken up residence in our basement. They even managed to trap her and Brutus in said basement, and ever since Harriet has developed a sort of aversion to the species.

“Jack was just about to explain to me why he wants to engage my services as a detective,” I said.

“The greatest detective that ever lived,” Jack specified, much to my embarrassment, for Brutus quirked an amused whisker and Harriet even went so far as to give me a frown in wonder at this strange conceit.

The only one who didn’t appear shocked by Jack’s bold statement was Dooley. He just sat there nodding earnestly. “Maxis the greatest detective who ever lived,” my friend proudly confirmed. “And that’s all because of his big head.”

“I don’t know about that,” I said, starting to blush beneath my fur.

“Oh, no, but it’s true,” said Dooley. “The bigger the head, the bigger the brain, and you have a very big brain, Max. The biggest brain of anyone I know. Perhaps the biggest brain in all of history.”

“And the fattest head,” said Brutus with a smirk.

“Okay, Jack, so go ahead,” I said, interrupting this stream of dubious praise. “Tell us your story, please.”

“Well,” said Jack, taking a deep breath, “once upon a time there was a princess, and she was locked up in a castle, put under lock and key by a mighty sorceress.”

“You’re not seriously going to tell us some fairytale, are you?” said Harriet.

“Not a fairytale,” said Jack, fixing us with a serious look. “Sadly enough it’s all true.”

CHAPTER 5

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“So let me get this straight,” said Harriet, interrupting the tiny mouse. “Someone lives in some castle someplace being guarded by an evil witch? Are you sure you haven’t been watching too many movies, Jack?”

“If you could just let me—”

“There’s no such thing as witches,” Brutus grunted, giving Jack a disdainful look. “Everybody knows that. Just like everyone knows there’s no such thing as castles populated with damsels in distress.”

“If I could just…”

“Look, if you got us out here to tell us some crazy story about an evil witch and a magic castle,” said Harriet, “we could just as well have stayed home.”

“Just…” Jack tried to say, but I could have told him that once Harriet got going, there was simply no stopping her.

“In fact I think that’s exactly what I’ll do,” our Persian friend said now.

“Do what?” I asked.

“Go home! It’s way too hot to sit here and listen to some nonsense story about an evil witch. Are you coming, sugar muffin?”

Brutus hesitated for a moment.“Yeah, of course,” he said finally.

“Let’s go and find some shade,” Harriet said as she started to walk away. “I’m boiling. Aren’t you boiling?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty hot,” Brutus admitted with a backward glance in my direction. He gave me a look of apology and I gave him an understanding smile in return.

“Such nonsense,” Harriet said. “Witches and haunted castles, if you please.”

“It’s true, though,” said Jack softly, once Harriet and Brutus were out of earshot. “My friend really is locked up in a castle, and she really is being guarded by an evil witch, and frankly I don’t know where else to turn, Max.” He eyed me imploringly. “Could you please help me get her out of there?”

“Where is this castle?” I asked, striking the business note. “And who is this evil witch?”

“The castle is over there,” said Jack, pointing in the general direction of the road. “And as far as her name is concerned, I’m sure I don’t know. You see, we’ve never been properly introduced. All I know is that she’s taken my friend prisoner, and she won’t let her go!”

“All right, all right,” I said, seeing the little guy’s bottom lip tremble as he was obviously in the throes of some great emotion. “We’ll see what we can do.”

“Does she have a big crooked nose, this witch of yours?” asked Dooley. “And does she have a big old hairy wart on the tip of that nose?”

“No, I don’t think so,” said Jack. “Though I’ve never studied her up close. Why, do you know her?”

“I’m not sure, but I’ll tell you when we meet her,” said Dooley, giving me a wink. It was obvious he didn’t believe a word Jack was saying either, but was resigned to indulge the tiny mouse. And I have to admit I was feeling much the same way. You see, when you’re a detective of my stature, sometimes you will meet crackpots, who will want you to take on their crackpot cases, that don’t actually amount to anything much. But that’s the nature of the game, and you just have to take the bad with the good. And since I was slightly bored on this hot summer day, I felt there was no harm in tagging along with Jack, and allowing him to show us this evil castle with this evil witch. For all I knew, his friend really was in some kind of danger, and we could be instrumental in securing her release from captivity. Also, ever since Odelia had her baby, no new cases have been coming our way, and life has become a little dull, to be honest. A little very dull.

And so we set out, in Jack’s wake, in search of an adventure—any old adventure.

“What’s the name of your friend?” I asked, just by way of making conversation.

“Judy,” said Jack, with a touch of diffidence.

I studied him for a moment.“You like this Judy person, don’t you?” I finally asked, correctly diagnosing his diffidence as genuine affection.

He nodded shyly.“I like her a lot,” he confessed softly.

“Is Judy your girlfriend?” asked Dooley.

Jack gave a start.“Oh, no,” he said, then giggled nervously. “Though I don’t mind confessing that I would like her to be.” But then he quickly dismissed the thought. “She already has a boyfriend, though,” he explained. “His name is Franklin, and they’ve been an item for as long as I can remember.”

“So if Franklin is Judy’s boyfriend,” I said, “why isn’t he out here trying to get her out of the clutches of this evil witch?”

Jack shrugged.“Franklin is a very busy person. He has a lot of very important things on his mind.”

“Oh, and freeing his girlfriend isn’t one of them?” I asked, not all that impressed with this Franklin dude’s attitude. Not chivalrous, if you see what I mean. Not Romeo material.

“Franklin is the leader of the clan ever since Pa passed away. And so the responsibility of the entire family now falls on his shoulders.” He sighed. “And I can see why he’s not overly concerned about Judy. She’s been known to wander off on her own from time to time. She is what we like to call a free spirit, you see. Always taking off and going exploring. And she always come back. Only this time she didn’t. Which is why I went looking for her last night.”

“And you found her locked up in the castle with the evil witch,” I said, nodding.

“So why didn’t you tell Franklin so he can go and save her?” asked Dooley.

“I did, but Franklin didn’t believe me. He says I’m lying and trying to attract attention to myself.” He gave me a sad look. “Franklin is very competitive, and he seems to have gotten it into his head that I’m challenging him over his leadership of the clan. Only I’m not, you see.” He gestured at his tiny form. “Can you imagine me challenging Franklin over being the leader?” He smiled awkwardly. “I’m not leadership material, you guys. Only Franklin doesn’t see it that way. He thinks that every male in the clan who speaks up is trying to challenge him, picking a fight.”

“Sounds like a swell guy,” I said dryly. “Okay, so where is this lady friend of yours?”

We’d reached the fence that lines the field, and had slipped through a crack and were now standing on the sidewalk, glancing this way and that.

“Over there,” said Jack, gesturing with his tiny head to a house across the street. It was a modest dwelling, not exactly the castle I had been expecting. Still, I guess for a field mouse any house is a castle. In that sense they’re not unlike the English, who are fond of referring to their home as their castle, modest though it might be.

“Haven’t we been here before, Max?” asked Dooley as we stared at the house across the street.

“I don’t think so,” I said.

“No, but we have. This is where Kurt Mayfield’s sister lives, isn’t it?”

I frowned as I slowly nodded.“I think you might be right,” I said finally. I may be the greatest detective that has ever lived, at least according to Jack, but my recollection of past events certainly isn’t all that great.

“Kurt Mayfield is our neighbor,” Dooley explained to Jack. “He’s a retired music teacher who doesn’t like music.”

“At least not our kind of music,” I added.

“He likes to throw shoes at us when we sing,” Dooley continued. “But then in the morning he always asks Odelia to give him back his shoes, which is awkward.”

“I don’t think we’ve actually been inside this place, though, have we?” I said.

“Not beyond the front yard. Fifi comes to stay with Kurt’s sister when Kurt is out of town,” Dooley explained. “Fifi is Kurt’s Yorkie, and she’s our good friend.”

“So Kurt’s sister is your evil witch?” I asked jack.

“I don’t know any Kurt,” said Jack. “But I do know that Judy is locked up right… there!” He was pointing to the roof, where one of those dormer windows provided evidence that the house had an attic.

“Oh, boy,” I said. I generally don’t like attics. They’re creepy and dark, and especially in this heatwave we were having, I could already tell that this particular attic was going to not only be stuffy and creepy but also oppressively hot.

“Are you sure that’s where your friend is locked up?” Dooley asked.

“Absolutely. Oh, there she is now!” he cried, and waved frantically at a tiny dot that had appeared in that dormer window.

The tiny dot, when I narrowed my eyes and focused, turned out to be a mouse just as tiny as Jack, only of the female inclination, or at least I thought she could be. Even under the best circumstances it’s hard to determine the gender of a mouse, and from this distance it was even harder.

“Judy, I’ve brought Max, the greatest living detective in the world!” Jack shouted, placing his tiny paws next to his tiny mouth, as if Judy could possibly hear him from this distance. “And he’s going to get you out of there!”

Just then, the front door of the house swung open, and a female appeared. And now I understood why Jack had referred to her as a witch, for she looked exactly like her brother Kurt, not exactly a picture of beauty himself, only with longer hair and a more chunky frame.

“Look at her nose, Max!” Dooley said in reverent tones. “She’s a witch, all right!”

And the lady did indeed have a pronounced nose. And right on the tip of that nose resided, like the cherry on the cake, a hairy wart.

Jack had been right after all!

CHAPTER 6

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I don’t know if you’re the kind of person who can’t wait to enter a burning building when you think there’s even a remote chance of saving a person on the verge of being consumed by the roaring flames, or even a favored pet, but I can assure you that I’m not one of those persons. On the contrary. When I spot a building that’s on fire I tend to run away from the fire, not toward it. But when I happened to glance over to Jack, I was taken aback to notice how the tiny mouse was gazing at me expectantly, fully expecting me to cross the street and enter the private dwelling of Kelly Mayfield and save the love of his life from certain death. For I didn’t wonder that if Judy didn’t get out of that sweltering attic in the next couple of hours, she might very well die of hunger or thirst or a heatstroke.

Okay, so I know that technically the house wasn’t on fire, but it might as well have been. You don’t know Kurt. Any man who is capable of throwing a well-aimed shoe in our direction is capable of much worse if given half the chance, and I had every indication to assume that his sister Kelly was of the same ilk.

“Okay, so maybe we need to give this some further thought,” I said therefore. “Organize a meeting with all those affected by this tragedy and come up with a strategy of campaign.”

“A meeting?” asked Jack.

“Yeah, a strategy meeting. Kick this thing up the chain of command.”

“Chain of command?”

“The higher-ups,” I explained. “Odelia and Chase. Our humans. So we talk to our people, and they talk to your people, and I’m sure they’ll be able to work things out.”

Jack frowned, and I couldn’t help but notice a slight diminution of his undying devotion to this concept of me being the greatest detective alive. “What do you mean? If we don’t act now, it will be too late. Youhave to act now, Max.”

“But…” I protested feebly.

“Maybe we could sneak in through the back,” Dooley suggested. “And then up the stairs. How hard can it be, right?”

I could have told him that a course of action along the lines he was suggesting was fraught with considerable danger, but obviously I couldn’t, since Jack was still eyeing me with that look of adulation that is all too familiar to movie stars or other celebrities. At least I think it is. I’m not a movie star, of course, and this was probably as close to fame and celebrity as I would ever come. Still, it was intoxicating, and I could already see myself don a cape and fly across the street and right what wrongs were being perpetrated. But then I remembered I was a mere mortal, not Super-Cat, and I said, “Look, Jack. The best course of action would be to talk to Odelia, who will talk to Kurt, who will talk to his sister, and then she will open that attic door and let out your friend and all will be well.”

“But she won’t,” Jack insisted. “Sheknows that Judy is up there and she’s been taking every precaution to make sure she will never, ever leave that house alive!” He emphasized these last words, and I could tell that he’d given the matter considerable consideration.

“What do you mean?” asked Dooley before I could.

“Judy isn’t the only one up there. She’s locked up with her cousin Bertha. You see, the both of them have been engaged in a dare. They’ve been sneaking into that house on a regular basis over the course of the past couple of weeks, absconding with any items of food they can drag out. Only the witch—”

“Kelly Mayfield,” I supplied.

“—has vowed to catch them ever since she discovered that her kitchen had become the target for Judy and her cousin’s campaign. She put traps and she locked up the food and last week she even placed a big fat piece of poisoned cheese on the kitchen counter, if you please!”

“And how would you know about all of this?” I asked with a frown. I have to say I didn’t exactly condone this kind of behavior.

Jack gave us a sheepish look.“They asked me to stand watch a couple of times.” When I gave him a look of distinct disapproval, he cried, “Judy is the woman I love with all my heart, Max! What else was I supposed to do? Say no?”

I sighed. Love’s young dream had obviously messed with this mouse’s sense of right and wrong. “Okay, all right,” I said. “So let’s recap. Judy and her cousin—”

“Bertha.”

“—have been raiding Kelly Mayfield’s pantry. Until she had enough and managed to trap them in the attic, and as far as she’s concerned, they can rot in hell.”

Jack nodded.“I know you probably don’t get this kind of question often, Max, but you’ve got to save them. If you don’t take action now, they’ll both die!”

“Oh, brother,” I murmured, scratching my scalp as I thought hard about the predicament this Judy person and her cousin Bertha now found themselves in.

“You weren’t lying when you said you’re in a pickle,” said Dooley kindly.

“Okay, let’s go,” I said curtly, when I couldn’t immediately think up a plan of campaign. In my experience, the best thing to do when you find yourself in such a situation, is to simply go ahead and wing it.

“What are we going to do, Max?” asked Dooley excitedly.

“I have absolutely no idea, Dooley,” I admitted.

“But you have a plan, right?” said Jack, equally excited now that things were finally moving.

“Nope,” I said. “Not a clue.”

“But… you have some brilliant idea, right?”

“Max always has a brilliant idea,” said Dooley. “He’s the cleverest cat I know.”

“Let’s just see if we can get into that house,” I grumbled. All this praise was started to grate on me. Which just goes to show I’m probably not made for the life of a celebrity cat. I can’t imagine that praise will ever grate on any of the Hollywood lot. On the contrary, if the continuous flow of praise and idolatry were ever to be cut off at the tap I’m sure your true celebrity wouldn’t like it one bit.

Kelly Mayfield, who’d been emptying her mailbox and had returned indoors, hadn’t conveniently left the front door ajar for us, so we were compelled to circle the house and find some alternative means of entry. One thing you should know about our neighborhood is that it was conceived by an architect with a distinct lack of imagination. All the houses look more or less the same, and so do the streets. And so as we made our way along the passageway between Kelly’s house and the next, I had a strong sense of d?j?-vu, as if I’d been there before. Part of it was that according to Dooley we had been there before, but the other part was that the lay of the land was very similar to the lay of the land on Harrington Street, which was a good thing, as it made our work that much easier.

And we’d just entered the backyard, and were subjecting the back of the house to a closer inspection, when suddenly a smallish dog came racing out of the house and started yapping its head off at us!

CHAPTER 7

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Then, just as suddenly as the mutt had started yapping, it stopped.“Oh, it’s you,” it said, and lay down on the lawn, rolled over, and closed its eyes, gently panting with lolling tongue. Dogs, like cats, have trouble on those dog days of summer, you see. So much so that they might as well have called them cat days of summer, or simply pet days of summer. I mean, if we’re going to be inclusive, why not go all the way and get rid of words aimed at excluding us felines from the conversation, right? But I can see I’m boring you, so let’s get back to the story!

“Hey, Fifi,” I said, for it was indeed Fifi, our neighboring Yorkie.

“Kurt on holiday again?” asked Dooley.

Fifi nodded soberly.“And decided to leave me behind again. That man will go flying off into the sunset at the drop of a hat.” She shrugged. “Disadvantage of belonging to a human who’s retired and has too much money to spend, I guess.”

“Where is he off to this time?” I asked.

“Bali,” said Fifi curtly. It was obvious she wasn’t too happy about Kurt’s tendency to take off and dump her with his sister.

“Look, we need to ask you for a favor,” I said.

“Sure thing,” said Fifi. “As long as it doesn’t require too much effort. I’m hot.”

“It’s global warming,” said Dooley. “The whole globe is sweating right now.”

Jack’s eyes had gone a little wider as he listened to this snatch of casual conversation. It’s not often that cats and dogs prove such firm friends, I guess.

“This is Jack,” I said, deciding to introduce the funny-looking rodent. “His good friend Judy is locked up in Kelly’s attic along with her cousin Bertha. Now do you think there might be a way to get them out of there?”

Fifi regarded Jack thoughtfully.“I’m not sure. Kelly has been engaged in a battle to the death with these mice lately. They’ve been stealing stuff from the kitchen and leaving a trail of mouse dropping all over the house.”

“That must be Bertha,” said Jack immediately. “Judy would never do such a thing. She’s a very sanitary person. Never drops a dropping if she can help it.”

“How did they get locked up in the attic?” asked Dooley.

“Kelly chased them up there last night,” said Fifi. “She stumbled upon the two of them as they were hauling off a big piece of cheese, and so she chased them all over the house, until she managed to trap them up there and locked the door, hoping to get rid of them once and for all.”

“She’s not just going to leave them there, surely”?” I said.

“Oh, no, of course not,” said Fifi.

“Good.”

“She’s bringing in a professional.”

I quirked a confused eyebrow at our canine friend.“A professional?”

“Yeah, an exterminator I think she called him. In fact that will be him now.” She gestured to a rather large man who came stomping into the backyard, dressed in gray coveralls, a sort of weird contraption strapped to his back, and clasping an even stranger contraption that looked like a spray gun in his hand. On his head he had strapped a pair of safety goggles, and he looked like he meant business.

“What is that!” Dooley cried.

“Like I said, an exterminator,” said Fifi. “He’s here to exterminate…” She darted an apologetic glance to Jack. “Well, your friends Judy and Bertha, I guess.”

Kelly, who’d come out of the house to greet the man, was now outlining in broad terms the job she had lined up for him. I only caught a few words, but they sounded ominous enough indeed. Death to all rodents seemed about the gist of the thing, and from Jack’s widening eyes, I could tell he wasn’t at all sanguine that this story would have a happy ending after all!

“We have to do something, Max,” said Dooley urgently. “This man with the strange machine on his back is going to murder Jack’s one true love!”

“One true love?” said Fifi, raising herself from her supine position on the lawn. She seemed galvanized by these words.

“Yeah, our Jack here is madly in love with Judy, even though it appears she has given her heart to another,” I explained, much to Jack’s visible embarrassment.

“Oh, dear,” said Fifi with a frown marring her perfect features. “That calls for an immediate intervention. And when I say immediate, I do mean immediate!”

And before our very eyes, she promptly skedaddled, and disappeared from view!

“I think she ran away,” said Dooley, much surprised.

“That exterminator must have scared her,” said Jack, sadly shaking his head. “Oh, Max. I think it’s going to take a miracle now to save Judy. A real miracle!”

And I’m afraid he was right. In all honesty I couldn’t see the happy end to this story either. Not with Mr. Death spraying destruction all around in there, and with Kurt’s sister hell-bent on eradicating every last trace of ‘vermin’ from her house.

“You have to think of something, Max,” Dooley urged, eyeing me imploringly. “Please use that extremely large brain of yours!”

“I’m trying, Dooley,” I said. But to be honest, try as I might, nothing was cooking. Was it the heat turning my brain cells into mush, or the simple fact that that exterminator scared the bejeezus out of me? I honestly couldn’t think of a single scheme we could put into motion to save thosepour mice up there.

And just when the exterminator and Kelly entered the house, ready for business, Fifi decided to put in a return appearance, and this time she wasn’t alone. She had brought with her a very large fluffy dog. It was none other than Rufus, the sheepdog belonging to the Trappers, who reside next to Tex and Marge.

“What seems to be the trouble?” asked Rufus in that deep rumbling voice of his.

“Two mice need saving,” I said, not wasting time with explanations.

“I know. Fifi told me as much.” He eyed the house with his brow furrowed and a no-nonsense look on his furry face. “Just tell me where that darn exterminator is,” he said, and I could tell he was ready to rumble.

Fifi pointed to the back door, which was still ajar, and Rufus let out a sort of deep grumble, presumably a war cry of some sort that sheepdogs the world over use when heading into battle, and then he trundled off in the direction indicated.

He disappeared into the house, and Fifi turned to us and uttered these immortal words:“And now we wait. And pray.”

CHAPTER 8

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I would have happily taken Fifi’s advice and waited the thing out, but Jack’s intent gaze was burning a hole in the side of my head, and so after a while I decided that it would probably be a good idea to get in on the action. After all, the greatest detective alive couldn’t very well allow a sheepdog to do all his work for him, now could he? And so it was with a great deal of reluctance that I finally got up and started for the house. “Dooley, are you coming?” I said when I noticed it was just me, myself and I making the short trek.

“’Oh, all right,” said Dooley after a pregnant pause, and came trotting up in my wake.

“We ride again, my friend,” I said.

“Ride where?” asked Dooley, interested.

“No idea,” I said. “Just something I heard once. Thought it sounded cool.”

The house, when we entered, seemed permeated with a sort of eerie calm. I would have expected to be encountered by furious barking, wild snarls and the panicky cries of humans finding themselves under attack from an impossibly large woolly mammoth type of dog. Instead, there was nothing of the sort. No sound could be heard, inasmuch that I wondered if we’d entered the right place.

The first room that we found underpaw was the living room, whereGeneral Hospital was playing on an outsized television set decorating the wall.

“Oh, I love this one,” said Dooley immediately. He likes to watch television of an afternoon, cozily curled up on the couch next to Gran, and he was about to hop up onto the couch and submerge himself in the adventures or misadventures of the cast ofGeneral Hospital when I said,“Not now, Dooley,” and he reluctantly tore his eyes away from the men and women in white to continue our quest to save two murine lives from certain death.

“Think of Jack’s great love,” I reminded him. “We’re not just saving a life here, buddy, we’re instrumental in bringing two sundered hearts together.”

“I’m sure that if Judy didn’t notice Jack before, she won’t notice him now,” Dooley said, proving that he’d never seen a Hallmark Christmas movie.

“Just you wait and see,” I said. “The moment Judy hears that it was actually Jack who was instrumental in saving her life, she’s sure to redistribute her affections in favor of that small but heroic mouse.”

Finding no evidence of a fierce struggle to the death on the ground floor, we decided to mount the stairs and head into the thick of the fight. But the second floor was as deserted as the first one, and we shared a look of confusion.

“Odd,” I whispered.

“Where is everyone?” Dooley whispered back.

“Maybe this is a haunted castle after all. And Kelly really is an evil witch!”

“I just hope she doesn’t change us into mice,” said Dooley. “I don’t think I’d like to be a mouse. All this craving for cheese. Can’t be good for your cholesterol.”

And then finally we heard it. A sort of soft growling sound, low and deep. It seemed to come from one of the rooms, and in direct contradiction to all of our instincts, we decided to head over there and see what was going on.

We gently pushed open what I assumed was the bedroom door, and found ourselves witnesses to an unusual scene: in one corner of the room the exterminator was standing, Kelly’s arms clasped around his midsection in a tight embrace, while on top of a four-poster bed Rufus was standing, lips drawn back from glittering rows of sharp teeth, a menacing growl emanating from deep inside his throat, spittle dribbling all over the nice crocheted bed cover. From time to time he made a jerky forward motion, as if to leap through the air and devour the two quaking figures whole. He looked a little like Cujo, Stephen King’s canine friend, and was showing us a side of his personality I’d frankly never seen before.

“The coast is clear,” he said now, addressing us. “I’ve got them cornered.” When we simply stared at him, taking in the unusual and frankly very impressive sight, he added in a deep sort of growl, “Get a move on, you two! NOW!”

“Oh, all right,” I said, and we quickly skedaddled and did as we were told.

To mount the stairs to the third floor was but the work of a moment, and to jump up and lift the latch from the wooden door was easy as pie. The moment the door creaked open, two tiny mice appeared, holding onto each other for dear life, noses twitching, eyes gleaming with abject fear, staring at us much like one would expect two mice to stare at two cats who have suddenly appeared before them.

Correctly interpreting their expressions, I said,“We’re not here to eat you. Just go. Run like the wind!”

And run like the wind they sure did. Between our legs, then hopping and skipping down the steps and soon disappearing from sight.

“Can’t you just… spray him?” I heard Kelly ask one floor down.

“I could, if you’d let go of my arms,” the exterminator returned.

“What if he bites?”

“Just hide behind me,” said the exterminator.

“You’d do that for me?” asked Kelly.

“Of course.”

“Oh, Fred!”

“Oh, Kelly.”

“My hero.”

“Anything for you, sweetheart.”

I had to hide a smile as I stuck my head in the door.“Rufus? The deed is done,” I said.

“Oh, great,” said Rufus, and immediately dropped the menacing attitude, hopped off the bed, and proceeded to walk out of the room, cool as dammit.

“He-he’s gone,” said Kelly, as if she couldn’t believe her good fortune.

“I told you,” said Fred. “Just keep calm and everything will be all right.”

“I think you scared him off, Fred. With your heroic and manly attitude.”

“The Fredster doesn’t take crap from no one,” said Fred. “Not even Cujo.”

“I’m very impressed, Fred.”

“You better believe it.”

“Oh, Fredster.”

“Oh, Kelly.”

Moments later the sound of kissing reached my ears, and as a grin spread across my features, I elbowed the door closed. Sounded like they could use some privacy.

“So what happened with the mice?” asked Rufus as we padded down the stairs.

“They got away,” I said.

“Oh, goodie. I have to say this was a lot of fun,” said Rufus as he lumbered into the living room. “It’s not every day that I get to bring out my inner beast.”

“I didn’t even know you could snarl like that, Rufus,” said Dooley admiringly.

“I saw it on TV once. Movie calledAmerican Werewolf in London.” He shrugged. “Just thought I’d be an American werewolf in Hampton Cove for once.”

“And you did a great job,” I said.

“Though I’d stop short of actually ripping a person to shreds,” he added for good measure.

“Oh, no, of course,” I said.

We’d stepped out of the house and I blinked against the sun that was still giving of its best and bathing the world below in a bright white heat. Once my eyes had become accustomed once more to the outdoors, I saw that a touching reunion was taking place: Judy was giving a flustered-looking Jack a big hug, Bertha standing to one side and eyeing the procedure with a skeptical eye.

“Thank you so much, Jack,” Judy was saying. “If it hadn’t been for you, we would never have made it out of there alive.”

“It’s not me you should thank,” said Jack. “It’s Max, the greatest detective that ever lived.”

Judy turned to me, giving me a curious look.“But you’re a cat,” she said, sounding confused. “Why would a cat help a mouse?”

“We’re not your usual cats,” I explained.

“We’re keepers of the peace,” Dooley said. “And as keepers of the peace, we like to come to the assistance of any creature that’s in danger. “

“Well, isn’t that just swell,” said Bertha, who gave me a look of suspicion.

“I think a well-meant thank you is in order,” said Judy, once she’d wrapped her mind around the quaint conceit of a cat saving a pair of mice lives.

“Actually it’s Rufus you should thank,” I said, stepping aside so Rufus could have the floor. “He’s the one who kept those humans at bay long enough for us to get you out of there.”

“Don’t mention it,” said Rufus good-naturedly. “And in fact it’s not me you should thank but Fifi. She’s the one who came round to ask for my help.”

“Don’t mention it, you guys,” said Fifi, a little bashfully now that all attention turned to her. “You’d do the same for me, I’m sure.”

“Well, will you look at that,” said Jack finally. “Two cats, two dogs and a mouse, all working together to save the lives of their friends. Now isn’t that something?”

It sure was something, all right. I had no idea what, but I liked it. And I think Dooley expressed it best when he said,“I’m hungry. Why don’t we all share a meal? To celebrate the happy ending?”

“Oh, I know where the woman keeps her best cheese!” said Judy. But then she caught Jack’s look of disapproval, and quickly amended, “Or maybe not. After all, stealing is bad.”

“Stealingisbad,” I reiterated. “And so I have a much better idea. Out where we live there’s plenty of food for all of us, and the best part is we don’t even have to steal it and risk life and limb. In fact our humans are only too happy to share their wealth.”

“And where is this paradise you describe?” asked Bertha, her voice laced with a healthy dose of skepticism.

And so we led the way to our own home, where we found our humans still gathered around the pool, and when Odelia saw us all troop into the backyard: two cats, two dogs and no less than three mice, at first she seemed taken aback, but after I explained the situation, she was quick to head inside and take out the cheese for the mice, and the kibble for the rest of us, and as we all munched away to our heart’s content, I found myself saying a quick word of thanks to a benevolent creator who had placed me with the best humans on the planet.

And when later on I noticed how Jack and Judy were chatting away in a corner of the living room, looking very cozy indeed, I closed my eyes knowing that all was well that ended well. And I would have enjoyed a well-deserved nap if not a tiny paw of a tiny mouse kicked me in the tummy. When I opened my eyes, I saw that Bertha wanted speech with me.

“Well, thanks for nothing, buster,” she was saying.

I blinked and stared at the tiny creature.“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Now look what you’ve done!” She gestured to Jack, who was fervently kissing Judy, who was clearly enjoying the treatment.

“Aww. Now will you look at that,” I said, much touched by this tender scene.

“This isn’t supposed to happen!” said the tiny female. “She’s supposed to get hitched to my brother, not this… this… this usurper!”’

“Your brother?”

“Franklin!”

“Oh,” I said, remembering what Jack had told us about the new leader of the pack. “But I thought you were Judy’s cousin?”

“Distant cousin.”

“Huh.”

“And he won’t be happy, I can tell you that. I was supposed to keep an eye on his future wife, and now look what happened. She’s fallen for the other guy!”

“Looks like love to me, Bertha,” I said, resting my head on my front paws and suppressing a yawn.

“I don’t care! She’s supposed to be the new mother of the clan, and now what? Who’s going to become Franklin’s wife now?”

“What do you care?” I said. “As long as love’s young dream is fulfilled, that’s all that matters, right?”

“Wrong!” She eyed the couple for a few moments, then finally sighed. “Though I have to admit they make a pretty cute couple.”

“Of course they do,” I said, and this time I did yawn widely, causing Bertha to recoil, presumably out of habit. A cat’s maw makes for a pretty impressive sight.

“Look, if you help me find a new bride for my brother, I promise I won’t tell him how you brought these two together.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Because Franklin is in charge of a clan of thousands. And if he wanted to, he could make your life and that of your humans a living hell, buddy boy.”

I gulped. It wasn’t that long ago that a mouse infestation had turned our house into a mouse-sty, and I really didn’t want to revisit that particular episode.

“What do you want me to do?” I asked reluctantly.

She smiled.“I already told you. You’re going to find a bride for my brother.”

Oh, boy. Somehow I had the impression I was letting myself in for a world of trouble. But then I eyed the cute couple and nodded.“All right,” I said.

“What did you say?” asked the stout little mouse. “I didn’t hear you.”

“All right!” I said. “I said I’ll help you look for a bride for your brother, okay?”

“Good. And don’t think I won’t hold you to that promise, cat.”

“Max,” I said. “My name is Max.”

“Let’s shake on it, Max.”

And so I found myself shaking paws with a pudgy little mouse.

“Max the mouse matchmaker,” she said with a grin, then toddled off.

“What’s going on, Max?” asked Dooley, sidling up to me.

“Looks like we’ve got our work cut out for us, buddy,” I said with a deep sigh. “Bertha wants me to find a bride for her brother.”

“Nice,” said Dooley, who never shies away from a challenge. “When do we start?”

“Not today,” I said, and promptly dozed off.

This was definitely a story for another day.

50. 5. 2. PURRFECT LOVE

CHAPTER 1

“Max?”

“Mh.”

“Have you ever been in love?”

I had just been in the process of gobbling up the last piece of kibble in my bowl, and Dooley’s question kinda took me by surprise. So much so that the kibble shot into the wrong pipe and I ended up coughing it up again.

“Well, have you?” he insisted when I didn’t immediately respond.

“What brought this on all of a sudden?” I asked, taking a sip of water to clear my passageway and buy myself some time in the process.

“I don’t know. Just thinking about this and that. Life, you know. I mean, Harriet and Brutus are in love, and have been in love forever. And Odelia and Chase are in love, and now they even have a baby, so there’s that. And so I was just wondering about us, you know. When are we ever going to find love, Max? Or maybe we’ll never find it? Maybe we’ll spend the rest of our lives alone? Is that what you think is going to happen?”

“I don’t know, Dooley. It’s very hard to make predictions about the future.”

“Yeah, but you’re smart, Max. In fact you’re the smartest cat I know, so you must know something, right? Something very important?”

He gazed at me with keen expectant eyes, and I felt compelled to say something deep and wonderful like,‘Life is a long journey, and we’re all fellow travelers on the same road.’ Or, ‘The key to happiness is to let go and simply be.’ Okay, so I have been taking the odd glimpse at the calendar that hangs in the bathroom, which is full of inspirational quotes. As it was, I didn’t know how to respond to my friend’s heart’s cry. So finally I said, “Maybe we should ask Gabi.”

“Who’s Gabi?”

“Don’t you remember Gabi? She writes the advice column in theHampton Cove Gazette. And she always has an answer for everything. I decided not to mention that Gabi is actually Gran and Scarlett, who take turns penning that much-beloved column in our local paper.

“Oh, that’s such a good idea!” said Dooley. “Let’s ask Gabi. She’ll know. Gabi always knows, doesn’t she?”

“Yes, she sure does,” I said, and took another chance at gobbling up that last piece of kibble. This time it went down well, even taking the appropriate route.

Dooley’s question did set off a chain of thought in my own noggin, though. My friend was right: were we ever going to find love? Or was love going to pass us by, as it has passed so many people by? Statistics, if they are to be believed, frequently point out that there are more and more people living alone, and that relationships in general are on a decline and have been for years. Coupling, it seems, and certainly matrimony, has gone out of style. Or at least the kind that is in it for the long haul, like Odelia and Chase. Or Marge and Tex. Or Harriet and Brutus.

So that night I sidled up to Gran, as she was watchingJeopardy, which she never misses, come rain or shine, and posed the question.“Gran? I have a question for Dear Gabi. You are still writing the Dear Gabi column, aren’t you?”

“You bet I am. Dan has been trying to wrestle it away from me, but I told him it’ll be a cold day in hell when I quit.” She yelled, “Matt Damon!” when the show host read out, “The actor who played Ethan Hunt in the 1996 movieMission: Impossible.” She was momentarily distracted when the correct answer proved to be ‘Tom Cruise’ instead. Then she said, “So what did you want to ask me?”

“Well, it’s actually Dooley who’s been struggling with this, so it’s not my question at all, you see. I just wanted to make that absolutely clear from the start.”

“Okay, fine. You made it clear. Now what’s the question? Better make it quick.”

“Is Dooley ever going to find love? Or is he destined to spend the rest of his life alone, pining for his one true love?”

“I can give you an answer right now, if you want. Of course he’s not going to be alone for the rest of his life. He’s got you, doesn’t he? And me, and Odelia and Chase and Harriet and Brutus… In fact he’s got dozens and dozens of friends.”

“Yeah, I guess he does. But I think he was referring to love, not friendship.”

“Oh, and so he doesn’t think I love the little rascal with all of my heart?”

“Yeah, but that’s not romantic love, is it? Not what Odelia and Chase have. Or even Harriet and Brutus.”

“You know what?” said Gran, turning up the sound on her TV. “I think I’ll toss this one over to Scarlett. It’s her turn to write the column this week anyway.”

“Yeah, it’s a tough one, isn’t it? He asked me the question this morning, and I didn’t know what to tell him either.”

“Oh, I know what to tell him, all right, but Scarlett and I have agreed to divvy up the Gabi column, and this week is her week, so it wouldn’t be fair to take that away from her. Now get lost already, Max. You’re breaking my concentration.”

And so get lost I did, hoping Scarlett would have an answer for us—or rather for Dooley.

CHAPTER 2

[Êàðòèíêà: img_1]

Harriet had been studying the rose directly located above her head with distinct interest. She and Brutus liked to spend their leisure time underneath the rose bushes, which had become their go-to place for some quality time together. And as she listened to Brutus’s rhythmic breathing as he slept the sleep of the dead, she suddenly found herself wondering if this was all there was.

“Don’t get me wrong,” she told the flower, who simply stared back at her, not all that interested in these idle musings, “I like what Brutus and I have, but sometimes I just ask myself if there isn’t more, you know.” More of what? She had no idea. She just felt there had to be more of… something.

She watched her mate’s chest rise and fall as he explored the land of dreams, and wondered what he was dreaming of. Probably another girl. If she knew anything about men, it was that they were always allowing their eye to wander. And as she imagined Brutus and this mystery woman canoodling in some far-off dream world, suddenly she got so mad she gave him a sharp poke in the ribs.

Brutus jerked to full wakefulness and looked around, dazed and confused.

“What just happened?” he asked, his voice thick with sleep. “I thought I was being attacked by something. Did you see it?”

“Must be your guilty conscience,” she said sweetly. “When men are suffering from a guilty conscience it will suddenly rear its ugly head and attack them when they least expect it.”

“Now why would I be suffering from a guilty conscience?” asked Brutus, stretching out and driving hose last vestiges of sleep from his corpus.

“I don’t know. You tell me. Who were you dreaming of just now, because it probably wasn’t me.”

He frowned.“Um… I think I was dreaming of a bird, actually.”

“What bird? Do I know this bird? What’s her name? And why haven’t you told me about you and this bird before!” she demanded hotly.

“It’s just a bird, sugar plum!”

“Describe her for me. What color are her eyes? And what does she look like?”

“I don’t know. Red chest, I guess, and some green feathers in her tail. Just a songbird, you know… singing… a song… or something.”

“Oh,” she said, and instantly her interest in this bird of colorful plumage waned. Birds weren’t interesting, after all. Not as interesting as potential rivals, of which there were many in Hampton Cove. As a matter of fact, sometimes she had the impression all of Hampton Cove was jealous of what she and Brutus had, exactly because it was so very rare and all. “Okay, you can go back to sleep,” she finally allowed. “I thought maybe you were dreaming of Shanille.”

“Now why would I be dreaming of Shanille?” asked Brutus, and he seemed so genuinely puzzled that she had to laugh.

“It’s fine, starshine. I guess I had a moment of weakness. It happens.”

“Oh. Well, all right.” He gave her a look of concern, which touched her heart. “You don’t have to be jealous, starfish. You know there’s only one girl for me and that’s you.”

“I know.” She simpered a little, batting her eyelashes for a moment, but then Brutus’s eyes drifted closed again and before long he was fast asleep once more, and she found herself experiencing the same recurring thought that perhaps he was secretly dreaming of some other girl.

The thought was so persistent and so annoying, that finally she decided to clear her head and go and do something else entirely. Humans who want to clear their heads go for long walks, but she hated going for long walks. It was very tiresome on her paws. Or they spent time gardening, being amongst the plants and flowers and weeding things. Humans love weeding. But since cats don’t go in for a silly thing like that, instead she decided to head indoors and talk to Max.

Talking relieved her soul of any burden that might be weighing it down. Talking was, in her view, the best remedy for anything that ailed her, from sore paws to persistent thoughts of Brutus dreaming about some other girl or girls.

Inside, she almost immediately bumped into Dooley. He wasn’t her preferred person to talk to, but he was available, and that was all that mattered.

“Dooley, I need to tell you something very important,” she said, opening proceedings.

“Oh?” he said, never a great conversationalist.

“I think Brutus is having an affair. In his dreams. Which is crazy, I know, and so I don’t know what to do about it.”

“Oh?” Dooley repeated, and for some reason he seemed distracted. She frowned. The very least he could do was listen to her, and not stare off into space like a cow.

“Are you listening?” she asked, tapping his chest for good measure. “Cause this is important, Dooley. Very important.”

He stared at her for a moment, as if he hadn’t even been aware she was there, then said the most outrageous thing. “Do you think I’ll ever find love, Harriet?”

She was seriously taken aback by this. In her experience the perfect interlocutor was one who didn’t ask questions of his own, but merely sat there quietly and listened. Then again, if Dooley was also having some personal issues, maybe it was something in the water. Or the food. Which would explain things.

“Of course you’ll find love. Don’t be silly. Handsome cat like you? I bet the ladies are chomping at the bit to snap you up. Now where was I? Oh, that’s right. So Brutus keeps smiling in his sleep, which, thinking back, is what started it all. No cat should be smiling in their sleep. It means something. Don’t you agree?”

It was a rhetorical question, just like most of her questions when she was in offloading mode. But for some reason Dooley felt the need to respond, which was exactly why she wouldn’t have selected him as a sounding board in the first place.

“Brutus dreams of birds a lot lately,” said Dooley. “He told me he dreams of birds all the time. Red birds and blue birds, and green birds and yellow birds. He sees them everywhere, and they’ve even begun to occupy his waking moments, which is annoying, for he’s starting to see birds thataren’t even there, I guess.”

“Oh?” she said. Somehow it chimed with what her mate had told her himself, but still she found it hard to believe. “I think I know what’s going on,” she said after a moment’s reflection. “These birds he keeps seeing aren’t really birds at all.”

“Oh, no, but they’re real. Red birds and blue birds and green birds and—”

“No, they’re not. They’re allegorical birds. They represent all the girls Brutus wants to go out with, but is not allowing himself to, because he’s in a serious and monogamous relationship with yours truly.”

“What’s a mogomagous relationship?” asked Dooley, but she ignored this outburst.

She was onto something here. Something deep.“I think Brutus wants to fool around. Relive his bachelor days. Only I’m standing in his way, so he’s seeing birds everywhere.” She nodded seriously. “It’s psychology 101, Dooley. Freudian slips and all of that. He’s cheating on me… with birds!”

And since there was no point in hanging around one who sat staring at her as if he was seeing birds himself, she abruptly turned on her heel and strode off.

“If he thinks he can cheat on me, he’s got another thing coming!” she cried.

CHAPTER 3

[Êàðòèíêà: img_1]

Brutus, who’d been taking in some peaceful slumber, was awakened once again by a vicious prod in the lower ribs. When he opened his eyes he found himself gazing into the furious features of his one true love.

“You’ve been cheating on me!” Harriet screamed, her eyes shooting bolts of fire that made the atmosphere crackle and pop. “Cheating on me again and again!”

“But, sugar lips!” he said. “Where do you—”

“And don’t tell me it’s only birds. Those birds mean something! I know my Freud. It’s girls you want, dozens and dozens of them, and preferably all at the same time, and of different age and plumage!”

“But, tweetums!”

“Don’t you tweetums me, you cheater!”

“But lemon drop!”

Suddenly the temperature seemed to drop about ten degrees as she turned the frostiness on full blast.“I’ve got some good news and some bad news for you,Brutus. The good news is that from now on you’re free. Free to do whatever you want with whatever bird you want!”

He gulped.“And the bad news?”

“That we’re through!” And with these words, and one final icy glance in his direction, she was off, leaving him reeling and wondering what had just hit him. A cyclone? A tornado? Or one of those tsunamis that were all the rage right now? At any rate, he’d had better moments awaking from a pleasant and peaceful dream.

And as he thought about Harriet’s words, he suddenly found himself thinking that maybe she was right. He had been dreaming about birds a lot. In fact he’d been daydreaming about birds just as much as he’d been regular-dreaming. He’d even told Dooley about it recently. But the latter had just stared at him, as he often did. So did Harriet have a point? Were these birds a sign? But a sign of what?

Just then, he spotted Max wandering around the backyard, looking a little lost himself. So he whistled his friend. If he knew anything, it was that Max always had a solution for everything. Max knew. He was clever that way. Annoying, of course, but in cases like this, also darn useful.

“Max! Over here!” he yelled.

Max came trundling up, taking his sweet time doing it. When you’re as big as the blorange cat was, going from point A to point B always took some time.

“Hey, Brutus,” said Max, in a sad sort of undertone. Brutus ignored it. He had more important problems to deal with right now than Max’s aptness for gloom.

“Harriet and I had a big fight just now,” he announced, and to his satisfaction saw that his words didn’t fail to grip. “Yeah, she says I’ve been dreaming of other girls, while in fact I’ve been dreaming of birds. Birds of different colors, in fact.”

“Oh, that’s right. You see birds, don’t you? Just like that kid in that movie.”

“I think that was dead people,” he corrected the big blorange cat. “But yeah, I see them everywhere. All the time. Even when I’m not sleeping, which is odd.” It was a heavy cross to bear, but he’d borne it with dignity and grace. Until now. “Harriet said something about the birds actually representing girls, and now she accuses me of cheating.” He spread his paws. “I’ve never so much as looked at another girl, so how can she accuse me of cheating, you know? It’s so unfair. Anyway, I was hoping that maybe you could talk to her. She listens to you.”

“I don’t know, Brutus,” said Max, much to his surprise. “Harriet may have a point. Those birds just may be a sublimation of the girls you’re actually interested in, but don’t allow yourself to get involved with for fear of Harriet’s wrath.”

He stared at the cat.“I got just about fifty percent of what you just said.”

Max took a seat and seemed to resign himself to offer him the full explanation.“Those birds might be birds in your imagination only. In actual fact they might represent the girls you want to go out and meet, see? And in that sense Harriet just might be correct.”

“But… I’m not interested in birds! I don’t even like the taste! They’re too… crunchy!”

“Like I said, it’s not actually birds you’re seeing—literal birds, I mean…” He sighed. “Oh, forget it. So you and Harriet broke up, is that it?”

“Yeah, at least that’s what it sounded like to me. She yelled a lot, said something about birds and Freud, and then she said I’m free to be with as many girls as I want.”

“So? Aren’t you happy about that? You’re free, Brutus. Free to fool around.”

He thought about this for a moment. It was an aspect of the matter he hadn’t considered. “You mean… I’m a free cat again?”

“That’s right. A merry bachelor once again.”

He directed a frown at his friend.“Okay, so what’s the catch? There’s always a catch with this kind of stuff, isn’t there?”

“There is no catch. Except of course that you and Harriet are a thing of the past. Over and done with. Finito. Boyfriend-girlfriend no more.”

“Mh.” He wasn’t sure how he felt about that to be honest. He liked Harriet a lot, loved her, even, but all this strange behavior she’d been displaying, all this prodding him in the ribs when he was asleep, screaming about birds? He definitely didn’t need that. He offered Max a grin. “So… what should I do?”

“Why are you asking me? It’s your life, Brutus.”

“Yeah, but you’re the brainy one, Max. You always have all the answers.”

Max shrugged.“This may come as a shock to you, Brutus. But for once in my life… I actually don’t. Have all the answers, I mean. In fact at this moment I have more questions than answers, if that makes sense.”

It didn’t, but then having a big brain had always made Max a little eccentric. You just had to accept it and indulge him when he got like that. “Come on. Ask me anything,” he said. “See if I can’t answer one of the many questions you have.”

“For one thing, do you think there is one true love for all of us out there, Brutus? Or is that simply a pipe dream?”

He thought about that for a moment.“That’s a toughie, I won’t lie to you,” he said finally. “Can I get back to you on that?”

“Absolutely,” said Max with a tired smile. “Take all the time you need.”

And then he was off, much to Brutus’s surprise.

“Hey! You haven’t told me what to do yet!”

“You’ll figure it out!” Max yelled back, and gave him a sort of wave with his tail.

Great. So now what?

CHAPTER 4

[Êàðòèíêà: img_1]

Once her show was over, Vesta didn’t simply move on to the next programmed bit of entertainment, but instead found herself turning Max’s question over in her mind. For some strange reason it had touched a chord. Was there love on the horizon for Dooley and, by extension, Max? For it hadn’t escaped her attention that Max askedthe question as much for himself as he did for his trusted friend.

It was a topic of discussion she’d never taken the time to explore. Cats, as far as she was concerned, were incapable of experiencing finer emotions such as love. She’d always considered them ultimately an inferior species, at a level with the other beasts in the field, for whom the only thing that matters ultimately is procreation, and they don’t really care where the impetus for the next generation comes from, as long as it’s healthy and capable of ably sustaining the species.

But of course she should have known better. Especially she, who had developed such a special relationship with her cats, just like her daughter and granddaughter and possibly even her great-granddaughter. And just like her mother and grandmother.

Odd, then, that the matter of feline love had never cropped up in any conversation she ever had with her own forebears. Though it might also be, of course, that Max and Dooley were special, and they most certainly were.

Her mom had never, for instance, exchanged more than a few words with her cats, and even then the conversations had mainly revolved around typical topics that historically interest the feline species: food and shelter. They hadn’t spent time philosophizing about more important topics, the way Max was wont to do.

The big blorange cat was a special kitty, that much was obvious. And now he was struggling with a subject that baffled even most humans. It certainly baffled her.

Finally she decided to call a helpline, and moments later was on the phone with her friend Scarlett, the other half of the very popular Dear Gabi column.

“So Dooley wants to know if he’ll ever find love?” said Scarlett.

“Actually Max and Dooley both,” said Vesta. “But of course Max is too proud to actually come right out and admit that he’s been struggling with this.”

“I don’t know, Vesta,” said Scarlett. “It’s a tough one. Is there one mate out there for every cat? I would think not. I mean, I don’t even believe there’s one mate out there for us, so I’m sure the same thing applies to our pets, right?”

“Yeah, I guess,” she said. “But we can’t possibly tell that to Dooley. He’ll be devastated, the poor thing. Or Max. He always thinks and feels about things so deeply, he wouldn’t like your answer, prosaic though it might be. I think there’s only one thing to do,” she added, with thekind of resolve so typical for her.

“And what is that?” asked Scarlett.

“We have to find a mate for Dooley. And Max, too.”

Scarlett let out a yelp of surprise.“Vesta Muffin, you are crazy!”

“It’s the only solution! If we’re going to prove to them that there really is love out there, we have to find that love.”

“How are we going to find a mate for Max and Dooley? It’s impossible!”

“Oh, I don’t know. I’m sure we’ll think of something.”

“You mean, like a dating app for pets?”

Her jaw dropped a few inches, and by the time she had reeled it in again, like a drawbridge, her mind was already buzzing with the implications of her friend’s suggestion. “Of course!” she cried. “Tinder for pets! Why didn’t I think of that!”

“Because pets don’t have bank accounts, so they can’t pay for a phone?”

“Yeah, but still. It’s a pretty good idea. One of your very best, I must say.”

“Gee, thanks, hon. But how are you going to work it?”

“How arewe going to work, you mean? We’re in this together, sweetie. You and me are going to revolutionize the dating world. And it’s going to make us rich beyond our wildest dreams! I mean, who doesn’t want an app like that?”

“I honestly think pets can take care of their dating life all by themselves, just like they have for thousands of years. They don’t need an app to find a mate.”

“I know, but some do, and Max and Dooley are a case in point. Just like some humans get married straight out of high school or college, and some hit their thirties or forties and still haven’t found the one. No, this is big, hon. Mega.”

“If you say so.”

“I mean, how many pets are out there? Billions? Trillions?”

“So?”

“So that’s how big the market is! Do you know how often you get an idea that nobody has ever had before? Never!”

“I guess,” said Scarlett dubiously. “Okay, so I have to go now. I’ve got an appointment at the nail salon. But let me know how you want to do this, all right?”

“Your grandnephew.”

“Kevin? What about him?”

“He needs to create this app for us.”

“Oh, Vesta, I don’t know.”

“It’ll launch him in business straight out of the gate! He’ll be the new Bill Jobs, Mark Gates and Steve Zuckerberg all rolled into one!”

“I think you’ve got your names mixed up there, hon.”

“I don’t care. Just ask him. I’m sure he’ll be super-excited.”

“His mom did tell me she’s starting to worry about him. He still hasn’t chosen a major, and now it looks as if he might not go to college at all.”

“Consider this his college application. When they see what he accomplished with Pettr, they’ll be crawling all over each other to sign him up!”

“Pettr?”

“Just thought of it. Sounds great, no?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I thought so. I’ll call you.”

“Not if I call you first,” Scarlett quipped, then rang off.

CHAPTER 5

[Êàðòèíêà: img_1]

I’d been giving the matter of Dooley’s love life—or lack thereof—some more thought, and finally saw I’d made a mistake in asking Gran for advice. When you want advice on how to cook a decent meal, who do you go to? Rachel Ray, right? Or Bobby Flay. Not Tex Poole, for instance, or Uncle Alec, whose idea of getting a good meal is visiting the frozen foods section at his favorite supermarket. So why go to Gran for advice about love? Gran’s dating life is notoriously patchy, so getting advice from her about love is like getting fitness advice from a couch potato.

So that’s why I decided to approach the one person I knew was in a successful and happy relationship: our very own Odelia!

And she just happened to arrive when I’d finally reached that conclusion. She walked in pushing the stroller, lifted Grace from the device and placed her on the kitchen counter for some reason, making strange noises all the while.

“What’s wrong, Odelia?” I asked, hopping onto one of the high stools.

And that’s when I caught it: a terrible smell was emanating from Grace. It almost smelled as if she had reached her sell-by-date and had finally expired.

“Oh, my God!” I cried when the dreadful odor hit my nostrils. “What’s that?!”

“She pooped in her diaper,” Odelia grunted. “And I just changed her into a new one before we went for our walk, can you believe it? I swear to God, Max, this child poops more than me, and I’ve always been an excellent pooper.”

I winced.“Way too much information, Odelia,” I said.

Chase walked in at that exact moment, took one whiff of the child he had co-produced, and made a face.“You better change that diaper and quick,” he said, by way of parental advice, “or else she might develop a rash on those baby cheeks.”

“Oh, if you’re so keen on making sure she doesn’t get a rash, why don’t you change her diaper for a change,” said Odelia, stepping back and planting two hands on her hips. “Why is it always me who has to do it, huh?”

“I’ve changed her diaper just this morning!”

“No, you didn’t. You changed ityesterday morning.”

“I could have sworn that I changed it this morning.”

“No, because you’ve been too busy playing detective to take care ofyour child!” she said, stabbing his chest with a pointy finger.

And then, all of a sudden, she broke down into a flood of tears.

“Hey, hey,” said Chase. “What’s wrong, babe?”

“This!” she screamed, gesturing at those same hips. “And this!” she added, lifting her T-shirt and showing us her belly button for some reason. “It’s ruined! It’s all ruined!”

“What are you talking about? You’ve got great hips, and I love your belly!”

Suddenly she grabbed a piece of flab between thumb and forefinger and pulled at it.“Do you call thisfine! It’s flab, Chase! Flab I didn’t have. And it’s wrinkly and veiny and ugly! Just like my thighs, and my hips. Even my chest looks terrible! And you know what? It’s all your fault! Before I met you I looked great. I didn’t have this flabby, wrinkly belly and I didn’t have this pair of veiny, ugly boobs with stretch marks and droopy—”

“Okay, okay,” said Chase, holding up his hands as he gave her an amused smile.

“And now he’s laughing at me!” Odelia cried. “Laughing at my misery!”

“I’m not laughing at you, babe! Absolutely not!”

“You’re laughing at me, while you should be apologizing for what you did!”

“Of course, of course. I apologize.” He paused as he glanced at Grace and wrinkled up his nose at the terrible smell. “What am I apologizing for, exactly?”

“Everything! You put me in this state! Yes, you, Chase Kingsley! You did this!”

Somehow I felt it appropriate at that moment to excuse myself and leave the room so the couple could deal with these very personal issues in private. The last thing they needed was a nosy cat sticking his nose in. A nose that was still very much aggrieved by the terrible smell emanating from that dirty diaper.

And so when I met Dooley outside moments later, and he was eyeing me expectantly, I had to admit I still didn’t have an answer. I could have told him that the one person I personally knew who had found true love, now seemed very upset with her one true love, to such an extent that she accused him of being the bane of her existence, and the cause of everything that was wrong with the world.

It certainly dampened my mood to some extent: if Odelia and Chase couldn’t find true love, what hope was there for me and Dooley?

“Harriet and Brutus broke up,” Dooley announced. “Something about Freud and dreams and birds. Harriet rambled on for a while, but I have to say I didn’t know what she was talking about. It all sounded very complicated, though.”

“Yeah, I think Odelia and Chase are going to break up, as well,” I said, equally gloomily. “They were fighting over Odelia’s flabby wrinkly belly, and her veiny droopy boobs, though I’m not completely sure why Chase would be to blame for all of that, to be honest, but apparently he is.”

Dooley’s eyes went wide. “Odelia and Chase are breaking up?”

“It’s only a matter of time, I’m afraid. They got into it pretty bad just now.”

We both sighed and decided to head out. Maybe we could find an answer about true love out there on those mean streets of Hampton Cove? For sure there was someone out there who knew the secret to finding one’s significant other?

CHAPTER 6

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On our way into town, I suddenly got another idea, and it immediately perked me up to a great extent. “Dooley, who is the couple you admire the most?”

“Well, Odelia and Chase, though apparently they’re not a couple anymore.”

“No, but apart from them.”

He thought for a moment, then he smiled.“Of course. Marge and Tex.”

“They’ll know the secret of true love for sure,” I said, nodding. After all, Marge and Tex have been together for an eternity. At least twenty-five years or so.

And so we decided to head to the library where Marge works, and ask her about the big secret, and how we could apply it in our own lives, if possible.

The library is located near a small square, where people like to come and sit of an afternoon, walking their dogs and taking a breather. There’s a little fountain where birds like to come and take a sip, and children like to splash about in the summer months, and generally it’s a place of relaxation and community spirit, not unlike the library itself, which adds a layer of entertainment and intellectual stimulation and also education, of course. Which was exactly what we needed: to be educated on this very important but elusive subject of true love.

Marge was behind the counter, checking something on her computer, while several people were browsing the rows and rows of books, picking their favorite reads and depositing them into their baskets to check them out and take home.

We toddled up to Marge and deposited ourselves at her feet. She must have been really engrossed in her computer browsing, for when I cleared my throat, she jumped about a foot into the air.