Purrfect Peril

Chapter 25

We met up with Brutus and Harriet on the corner of Main Street and Franklin Avenue. Brutus and Harriet had formed a second team to look for Shadow. It was obvious from their expressions that they hadn’t found what they were looking for either, though.

“Did you find her?” asked Brutus.

“No, did you?” asked Dooley, who had a hard time reading faces.

“We did find Clarice,” I told the others. “She said she saw Shadow and that if we don’t hurry it might be too late.”

Brutus frowned. “You mean she might have left town?”

“She might have left the planet.”

“As in… flown off into space?”

“As in being dead and buried.”

“Look, all this talk about Shadow is all well and good,” said Harriet, “but shouldn’t we focus on the more important issue here?”

We all stared at her. “What more important issue?” I asked.

She tapped her collar. “These, of course! When are we going to be allowed to get rid of these horrible collars? Cats are staring at us, in case you hadn’t noticed. Mocking us.”

I looked around. Every single cat I saw was also wearing a collar, and they weren’t staring, either, too busy wallowing in self-pity, just like Harriet was. Cats are notoriously self-absorbed, and Harriet is a prime example. It’s one of our less attractive qualities, I’m afraid.

“I guess once the fleas are gone the collar can come off,” I said.

“Duh. In case you hadn’t noticed, the fleas are gone,” said Harriet. “So you better talk to Odelia and get her to remove these terrible things ASAP, Max. And better do it now.”

“I saw a flea,” Dooley piped up. “It jumped from me to Clarice but then she ate it.”

Harriet ignored this outburst from one she considered a mere cypher in our small cat universe. “Talk to Odelia, Max. I’m serious.”

“Why don’t you talk to her?” I asked.

“Because she only listens to you. Everyone knows that.”

“That’s not true.” They all looked at me. “Is it?”

“It is kinda true, Max,” Dooley said. “You seem to be her favorite.”

“Odelia doesn’t have favorites. She loves us all equally.”

“Yeah, right,” Brutus grunted. “You know that ain’t true, Max.”

And as we walked on, idly looking left and right for Shadow, I thought about this. Was I Odelia’s favorite? I didn’t think so. I was her cat, of course. Harriet was Marge’s. Dooley was Grandma’s, and Brutus was Chase’s mom’s. But that didn’t mean anything. No, I was pretty sure they were mistaken. Odelia loved us all to bits. And we’d just crossed into yet another back alley, when we came upon a strange sight: a man and a woman in a police cruiser were also loving each other to bits. Literally. And they had the steamed-up windows to prove it.

And as we stood watching, mouths agape, I suddenly noticed the guy inside the police cruiser looked awfully familiar. He was portly, with a big head and red sideburns.

Brutus had noticed, too. “Isn’t that… Uncle Alec?” he asked.

“No way,” said Dooley. “Uncle Alec would never do… what is he doing, exactly?”

A hand suddenly slapped against the window, as the woman appeared to straddle Uncle Alec. And then the car began moving in a curious rhythm, tires squeaking audibly.

I gulped a little, and felt compelled to place my paw over Dooley’s eyes, just like one would when suddenly an adult scene pops up in an otherwise family-friendly movie on TV.

“What is she doing to him, Max?” asked Dooley, panicky. “She’s choking him!”

“No, she’s not.”

“But she’s on top of him!”

“Brutus, tell him,” I said. “Explain to him what’s going on. Brutus?”

I glanced around and saw that Brutus and Harriet had moved away and were now ensconced behind a dumpster, engaged in a similar activity as Uncle Alec and the mystery woman inside the car. Probably inspired by the moment. It was hard to make out the woman’s features, because of the steamed-up windows, but I could tell she had red hair and was a lot prettier than Uncle Alec. She also seemed to be enjoying herself tremendously, as she was yelling, “Oh, yes, sheriff! Oh, yes, sheriff! Oh, yessss! Sheriff!” It was a little repetitive but Alec didn’t seem to mind.

From their perch behind the dumpster, meanwhile, Harriet was yelling, “Oh, yes, Brutus! Oh, yes, Brutus! Oh, yesssss! Brutus!” Obvious plagiarism, of course, but who cared?

“What’s happening, Max?” cried Dooley, perfectly disoriented.

I led him away from the scene, my paw still over his eyes. “Nothing special,” I told him. “Let’s go. I think I saw Shadow.”

“Is that Harriet? What is she yelling about? Is she in pain?”

I glanced back at Harriet, whose face was contorted in rapture. “I don’t think so.”

“Because she sounds like she’s in pain.”

“I’m sure she’s fine, Dooley. Brutus will take care of her.”

And Brutus was taking care of her. And finding the time to give me two paws up. Guess Vena’s vitamin pills had worked their magic after all. I held up one paw in greeting, my other paw protecting Dooley’s innocence, and then we were out on the street, where life was lived at a less strenuous pace and public displays of indecency were not as prevalent.

Like I said, sometimes being a cat is tough. Not as tough as Clarice seems to believe, but not something for pussies, either.

We hadn’t found Shadow, but Brutus had found his catliness, Uncle Alec had found a woman who didn’t seem to mind that he was overweight and out of shape, and I had found that sometimes helping friends was all about chomping down pills that aren’t necessarily good for you, and helping other friends by pretending a couple in heat is just another feature of small-town life. Nothing to see here, folks. Just move along. Which is exactly what we did.