The Mysteries of Max: Books 25-27

Chapter 33

Harriet had been thinking hard. Odelia’s words, even though she’d dismissed them at first, had returned to her when suddenly Max, Dooley and Brutus had gone missing for half an hour, only to return with Clarice in tow.

For a moment there, she’d actually panicked. She wasn’t used to her boyfriend abandoning her like that—usually it was she who did the abandoning, not the other way around, and to see Brutus take off like that, without telling her what he was up to, had given her a big shock.

And so in his absence she’d started ruminating on Odelia’s words. What had she said? Something about compassion? And how humans and pets who lost control over their bladders were basically more to be pitied than censored?

And so suddenly she’d seen this entire incident in a different light: Brutus and Dooley weren’t the bad guys here—they were the victims! Victims… of their wonky bladders.

And so as they walked along the sidewalk, Clarice out in front, scanning left and right and generally taking her bodyguarding duties very seriously, and Rambo behind them, generally looking extremely bored and wishing he were anywhere but there, she suddenly said, “Brutus, I think I owe you an apology.”

“What?” said Brutus, visibly surprised.

“Yeah, I talked to Odelia about your condition, and I see now that I judged you too harshly. You, too, by the way, Dooley.”

“Oh-kay,” said Brutus cautiously, clearly wondering what the catch was.

“So now I’m thinking you two should probably get some professional help.”

“Pro-professional… help?”

“I’m sure if you talk to Vena she’ll be able to give you something for that dodgy bladder of yours. You’re too young to let this kind of problem control your life, smoochie poo. And I know that Odelia suggested placing a plastic tub in the bedroom so you won’t have this kind of… accident in the middle of the night, but just know there is a more permanent solution. One that will make your bladder behave again—just like it used to.” And she proceeded to give her boyfriend a big smile of support.

“But… my bladder is just fine,” said Brutus.

“My bladder is fine, too,” said Dooley.

“I don’t need to go to the doctor.”

“Me, neither,” said Dooley.

“Now Brutus, I know you like to act tough and all, but there really is no shame in this. There are many, many people, and plenty of pets, who suffer the same thing you two do.”

“Suffer… what, exactly?” asked Brutus, wide-eyed now.

“Well, incontinence, of course. And I’m sure that if you just talk to Vena—”

“Incontinence!”

“What is incontinence, Max?” asked Dooley.

“It’s when you have no control over your bladder. Or your bowels.”

“But… I’m not incontinent!” Brutus cried.

“Now, now, pookie bear,” said Harriet, contriving a look of compassion. “There’s no sense denying the obvious. And no shame, you hear me? No shame whatsoever.”

“I’m not ashamed—my bladder works perfectly fine, and so does everything else!”

“Oh, munchkin,” said Harriet with a sigh. “I knew you’d react this way. Look, you don’t have to act tough for my sake. I’ll talk to Odelia and set up an appointment with Vena.”

“What?!!!”

“And I want you to know you have my full support, my precious angel. My love muffin. My cuddle bear. I’ll be right by your side throughout the whole procedure.”

“But I’m not—”

“Oh, I know, chickadee. I know.”

“But my bladder is perfectly—”

“Of course it is. Absolutely.”

“But, Harriet!”

“It’s all right, handsome. And I love you all the same—my incontinent honey bear.”

“Can you please cut down on the blather?” asked Clarice annoyedly. “I can’t focus.”

“Yes, Clarice,” said Harriet dutifully.

She wasn’t entirely happy about this new situation, but it was better than being attacked by some pyromaniacal cat killer. And since she’d try to be more compassionate from now on, she could see that even though Clarice was all bluster and snide comments, underneath all that was a scared little pussy. At least she thought there was.

So she sidled up to Clarice now, and said, “Clarice, honey, you don’t have to act tough on my account, you know. I mean, it’s perfectly fine to be yourself when I’m around.”

“What are you talking about, toots?” asked Clarice, her eyes flitting all over the place, like one of those Secret Service agents running along the car with their president. All that was missing now were a pair of snazzy sunglasses and a wrist mic to mumble into.

“What I mean is that we’re just girls together, you and I, and you can’t fool me.”

“Still don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.”

“You can drop the act, Clarice. Underneath that tough exterior you’re a sweet soul. I know that. And it’s all right to let it out.”

Clarice cut her a look that was anything but sweet. “I think you better get back in line now, before I give you a piece of my soul you won’t like.”

Doubts started to creep in when Harriet looked deeply into the wild cat’s eyes and saw not a hint of sweetness there—only an interior that was as tough or even tougher than the exterior. “I just want you to know,” she said, placing a paw on Clarice’s shoulder, “that I care. I care about you, Clarice, I really do.”

Clarice glanced down at the paw, then up at Harriet, and her expression darkened. “If you don’t remove that paw right now you’re going to lose it.”

“W-what?”

“I’m going to cut you, Harriet. I’m going to cut you so bad you’ll wish you were never born.”

“But… you’re supposed to protect me!” she cried, removing her paw as if from a burning stove, then quickly rejoined the others. “Clarice isn’t nice,” she announced with a pout. “I tried to be compassionate and she threatened me—actually threatened me!”

“I know,” said Brutus. “And that’s why she’s the best bodyguard in Hampton Cove. No offense, Rambo.”

“None taken,” said the big dog, lumbering along. “Hey, where can we find some food around here? I’m starving.”