The size of our friend’s tail returned to normal, and he lost some of his pep when he said, “No, you’re right, Dooley. Kingman is a lot more popular than me. He’s Mr. Popular. Everybody loves him. And now, apparently, so does Harriet.” He heaved a deep sigh that seemed to come from the very depths of his soul.“It’s over. That’s just how it is. Harriet doesn’t love me anymore.” And then his spine seemed to turn to jelly and he sort of melted onto the duvet, leaving only the broken husk of what was formerly the most formidable cat I’ve ever known. Some might even call Brutus a bully, and I know I’ve used the term myself on occasion, but deep down, underneath that hardened crust, he has a heart of solid gold.
“Cheer up, buddy,” I said, putting a paw on his shoulder. “I’ll talk to Harriet. Find out her secret. And who knows? Maybe you’ve got this all wrong.”
“I don’t think so,” he said with a croaky voice. “She’s leaving me, Max.” He squeezed his eyes firmly shut. “And now please leave me. I would be alone.”
And so I offered him Odelia’s pillow, and he gladly took it. And as he curled up into a ball, liberally littering the pillow with black fur, Dooley and I took our leave.
We had been tasked with an important mission: to discover whether Harriet’s secret meetings with Kingman meant she was having an affair with the latter.
Frankly it was with a heart bowed down with the weight of woe that I set out on this mission. For I had the distinct impression that when we returned from our investigations into the mind of Harriet, we’d be bearing bad tidings for our friend.
CHAPTER 7
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We went in search of Harriet and found her in the backyard belonging to the Trappers—Marge and Tex’s neighbors. She was chatting with the Trappers’ sheepdog Rufus. The two were deep in conversation, but the moment we arrived on the scene, they looked up, and I had the impression we’d caught them discussing something that wasn’t intended for our ears.
“What’s going on?” I asked therefore.
“Oh, just chatting about this and that,” said Harriet breezily.
“Yeah, this and that and that and this,” said Rufus, just as airily.
I could have told them they were both lousy liars, for it was obvious that whatever they’d been discussing was important. Harriet’s affair with Kingman?
I had intended to tackle the matter with some delicacy—to ease into the discussion gradually, but Dooley had other ideas. “Is it true that you’re having an affair with Kingman?” he demanded to know.
Harriet looked shocked.“What?!” she said after a moment.
“You’ve been sneaking around behind Brutus’s back,” Dooley explained. “And now he thinks you’re having an affair with Kingman, because he saw the two of you together in the park last night.”
Harriet made a display of looking completely flabbergasted.“I don’t believe what I’m hearing,” she said finally. “Of course I’m not having an affair!”
“So what have you been doing sneaking out at all hours of the day or night?”
“Excuse me?”
Dooley took a breath and repeated,“What have you been doing sneaking—”
“I heard you the first time, Dooley,” she said with a touch of hauteur. “And for your information, I haven’t been sneaking out. And I’m not having an affair.”
Dooley frowned. This all sounded highly suspicious.“So what’s going on?”
“Nothing is going on! Except that it’s obvious to me that my dear Brutus has a highly active imagination.”
Harriet had never referred to Brutus in these clinical terms before. Usually it’s smoochie poo this and snuggle bunny that, but never ‘my dear Brutus.’ Something was definitely going on here, Brutus was right about that. But what?
“Okay, so Brutus is worried,” I said, deciding to play the sympathy card.
“Look, a girl can have her secrets, can’t she?” said Harriet, becoming defensive. “Or don’t you two have secrets to hide?”
“I don’t have any secrets,” I said.
“Me neither,” Dooley chimed in.
Harriet threw her head back and produced a tinkling laugh.“As if!” she cried, when she’d finished her hyena act. “We all have secrets. Isn’t that so, Rufus?”
Rufus seemed uncomfortable.“Well…” he prevaricated.
“Of course you have,” said Harriet. “Like that time you pretended to be someone you were not so you could chat with me. Remember? That was a big secret.”
It hadn’t been Rufus’s finest hour. He’d pretended to be a war veteran, and had connected with Harriet through Pettr, a dating app for pets. “It wasn’t exactly a secret,” Rufus muttered nervously. “Just… a way to make friends, I guess.”
“Or how about you, Max?” said Harriet, turning to me. “Or don’t you think I know that you always eat the first scoops of fresh kibble from the bag?”
I stared at her.“You know about that?” I asked, aghast.
“Of course! The moment Marge opens a new bag, or Odelia, you’re always quick to gobble up those precious first nuggets.”
“They’re the freshest,” I mumbled, my face flushed with embarrassment. Lucky for me nobody could see just how flushed my face was, what with all the blorange fur covering my shamefaced cheeks.