Purrfect Peril

Chapter 17

I stared at Brutus who was staring at the box of pills Odelia had bought. The box of pills were Vena’s idea. After examining the brutish black cat—though a lot less brutish since he’d confided his big secret in me—she’d determined everything was A-Okay with his plumbing. Which told her the issue was between his ears. No idea what she meant by that. Vena also said he needed a shrink, but since cat shrinks are hard to find she decided to give him some pills to alleviate his predicament. It should put the pep right back in his pee-pee.

Before leaving the house, Odelia laid out a couple of pills, and told Brutus to take one with a little water. And now Brutus was staring at the pills and I was staring at him. And since Dooley was staring at me staring at Brutus staring at the pills, things were a little awkward.

Harriet, of course, was staring at herself. In the mirror in the bathroom. She’d discovered that if she jumped on top of the wash basin, she could study herself to her heart’s content, which was what she was doing right now.

“I don’t like it, Max,” Dooley said finally.

“What don’t you like, Dooley?” I said.

“The collar. Makes you look weird.”

Just what I needed. A motivational speech.

“That’s because collars look weird on all cats, Dooley,” I pointed out. “Because cats weren’t designed to wear collars.”

“I know that. But on you it looks extra weird. Probably because it’s too tight. I can see all kinds of flab sticking out. Like someone tied a rubber band around a whale.”

He was right. Vena had used the final hole punched into the collar and still it was too tight around my neck. I’d told Odelia it was because the collar was too small. Vena had said it was because I was too fat, and she’d threatened to put me on another one of her diets. In her infinite wisdom Odelia had decided that the diet would have to wait until after the flea ordeal had been dealt with. I hoped by then she would have forgotten about the diet thing.

“Just take it already,” I told Brutus, tiring of this waiting game.

He chewed his lower lip. “I don’t know, Max. What if my pee-pee falls off?”

“Why would your pee-pee fall off?”

“I read about these pills. There’s always side effects. And one of the side effects is that your pee-pee swells up and dies. What am I going to tell Harriet if my pee-pee dies?”

“Your pee-pee isn’t going to die from a teeny tiny pill. Just think how happy Harriet will be if your machinery works like it should. Focus on the light, Brutus, not the darkness.”

Dooley transferred his attention from my tight collar to Brutus. “What’s his deal?” he asked. Then he remembered. “Oh, the pee-pee thing. Right.”

Brutus’s eyes went wide. “You told him?!”

“Of course I told him. He’s my best friend.”

“I told you in confidence!”

“And I told Dooley in confidence.”

He groaned. “Tell me you didn’t tell Harriet.”

“I didn’t tell Harriet,” said Dooley. “So why don’t you take the pill, Brutus?”

His bedside manners were a little lacking in tact and delicacy, I felt, and some of the old rancor had slipped back into his tone. It was obvious my helping Brutus still rankled.

“Are you deaf? I just told Max about the side effects.”

“So what if your thingy falls off? Who cares?”

“I care! And Harriet will care if I can’t…” He chewed his lip again.

“She’ll find another boyfriend,” said Dooley carelessly. “Plenty of cats in the sea.”

Brutus gave him a look that could kill, and I had the distinct impression another cat fight was brewing. And since Chase wasn’t here to break up the fight, I told Dooley, “Go look for Odelia’s pill, Dooley. I’m sure it’s in the bathroom upstairs somewhere.”

His eyes lit up, like I knew they would. “She has the pill?”

“She has the pill. I’m one hundred percent sure.” More like fifty percent, but giving false hope is one of the secrets of making friends and influencing cats.

And off he was, at a happy trot. If he could find proof that Odelia was on the pill, and not about to pop out a litter of babies, he would finally be happy. And Brutus and I would have some peace and quiet to think this other pill thing through.

“Just take it,” I told Brutus. “See what happens.”

“Why don’t you take it? Then if your pee-pee stays firmly attached I’ll know it’s safe.”

I laughed. “I don’t have issues, Brutus. You do.”

“Don’t remind me,” he grunted, and unsheathed a sharp claw.

I gulped. Brutus might be domesticated, to some extent, but there was still something of the wild animal in him. “Okay, fine,” I said. “I’ll take one if you’ll take one. How is that?”

He sheathed the claw. “You would do that for me?”

“Of course.”

“Oh, Max—you’re a real pal,” he said, visibly touched.

As long as he stopped whining about his pee-pee, I was prepared to take any pill.

So I jumped on top of the chair, then on top of the table, and gobbled up one of the pills Odelia had laid out. I didn’t even need to take it with a little water. Brutus, who’d made the jump to the table in one go—admittedly he is a little slimmer than me—swallowed his pill. And then we stared at one another. Slowly, but inexorably, our gazes lowered. Then, realizing what we were doing, we both looked away again.

“I don’t feel nothing,” said Brutus after a moment.

“I don’t feel nothing either,” I confessed.

“Let’s take another pill,” said Brutus.

“I’m not taking another pill,” I said.

“Chicken.”

“Not!”

“Then take it.”

“You take it.”

“Oh, I will,” he said, and gobbled up another pill, crunching it between his teeth.

I couldn’t say no. My whole cathood depended on it. So I followed suit.

More minutes passed. Nothing happened.

“Maybe we should take another one,” said Brutus.

I decided this time to beat him to it, and we both dove for the pills.

Just as I was gobbling down pill number five, feeling mighty manly, Dooley strode in, looking a little pale around the nostrils.

“You guys,” he said, retching slightly. “I don’t feel so good.”

“What happened?” I asked.

“I found Odelia’s pills.”

“Hey, that’s good, right?”

“And then I ate one.”

“You did what?”

He retched some more. “They looked like white kibble!”

“Oh, Dooley,” I said, and then I retched, too.

Truth be told, I wasn’t feeling so hot myself.

And when I glanced over at Brutus, he looked like he was about to pass out.

Five minutes later, when Odelia walked in, back from giving Grandma the tongue-lashing the old lady deserved, she found three cats puking their guts out, with a fourth, Harriet, wearily shaking her head at so much tomfoolery. Then Harriet dug her teeth into her collar for some reason and moments later joined the rest of us in the puking department.