“There is no footage because you didn’t turn them on before you planted them,” Kevin explained, with the kind of patience I thought was admirable. “First you turn them on, then you plant them, then you watch the footage. It’s not rocket science, Auntie Scarlett.”
“Auntie Scarlett,” Harriet said with a laugh. “Funny.”
“She doesn’t look like an auntie,” Brutus agreed.
“We’re all somebody’s auntie,” I said, feeling the philosopher in me raise his head.
Harriet and Brutus regarded me curiously.“So whose auntie are you, Maxie baby?” asked Brutus.
Okay, so I should have seen that coming.
Back in the corner with the adults, Kevin was patiently explaining how these cameras worked. And when all was said and done, the upshot was that nothing of what had transpired in Brian’s office had been registered on any of these devices!
25
I came out of our litter box—the litter box the four of us now shared—and after what I found there I admit I wasn’t in a good mood. So I told Dooley I was going on strike.
“On strike? What do you mean, on strike?”
“It means I’m not moving another paw until my demands have been met.”
“What demands?”
“Fresh litter in my litter box! Proper litter procedure at all times! And no more smelly surprises, thank you very much!”
“You don’t have to yell, Max,” said Dooley, rubbing his ears. “I can hear you just fine.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, realizing my faux-pas. “It’s not you I should be yelling at.” But because of a distinct absence of the people I should be yelling at, I’d directed my ire at Dooley. “For which I apologize,” I repeated.
“It’s fine,” he said. “I did notice our litter box is a little smellier than usual, but I figured it’s only for the time being. Until we wrap up this mission and go home.”
“You’re probably right,” I said with a sigh. “Maybe I shouldn’t be so touchy about these things. It’s just that when you’re used to having things a certain way, and then all of a sudden they’re not, it irks me, you know. Really rubs me the wrong way.”
“I hear you, Max,” said my friend with a sympathetic smile. “It’s not nice having to go in a litter box where others have gone before you. Like Odelia going to the bathroom and complaining that Chase left the toilet seat up. It’s not easy having to live together, is it? Especially when the others don’t follow the rules.”
“Exactly!” I said. “Thank you, Dooley!”
“You’re welcome, Max. Sometimes all we need is a listening ear. Someone to listen to our gripes. It makes you feel better already, doesn’t it?” He cocked his head.
“It does. It really does. Though this doesn’t mean I’m giving up my strike.”
“Oh, of course not. Strike all you want, Max. In fact maybe I’ll join you. I’ve never been on a strike before. I think it’ll be a lot of fun.”
And so we went on strike together. Though since we were all alone in the room, there really wasn’t much of a point. But then sometimes you have to stand on a principle, even if it doesn’t seem to make any sense!
And just when we’d discussed strategy—Dooley was going to announce our strike to Gran while I was going to try and have another word with Brutus, whom I had identified as the main culprit of my litter box surprise—the door flew open and Kate Doyle walked in, moved over to one of the two beds—Gran’s bed in this case—and lay down and closed her eyes. She let out a little sigh and promptly fell asleep!
“Why is Mrs. Doyle sleeping in Gran’s bed?” asked Dooley after a moment.
“I have absolutely no idea,” I said.
It didn’t take long for Gran and Scarlett and our two feline friends to return. But before I could warn them that we had a visitor, Mrs. Doyle’s eyes flew open and fixed on Gran.
“Intruder!” she screamed, and got up from the bed with such alacrity it took us all by surprise. She then fastened her hands around Gran’s throat and started to squeeze!
“Intruder!” she repeated. “This is my room!” And to show us she meant business, she squeezed even harder.
Scarlett, who’d been too shocked to respond at first, now sprang into action. She first tried to prize Mrs. Doyle’s hands from her friend’s throat, but the woman proved surprisingly tenacious and almost supernaturally strong. So when this strategy failed to yield results, she tried to place her arm aroundMrs. Doyle’s neck and bodily drag her away from Gran, whose face was starting to turn a ripe purple now!
But Kate Doyle must have been a wrestler in a previous life, or maybe a tax collector, for she simply would not let go!
Finally, and since cats are more attached to their humans than most people give us credit for, the four of us decided to intervene, lest we would find ourselves sans Gran!
So as one cat we jumped on the woman, and started climbing her like a tree.
And that finally proved the panacea we had been looking for. Immediately when she felt those tiny little pinpricks, she let go of her quarry, and tried to shake us off.
“Demons!” she cried. “You little demons!”