But before I could grump some more, Odelia approached, and placed some delicious pieces of glistening hot meatball in front of us. She then patted me on the head and said,“You did great, Max. Another case solved, and we couldn’t have done it without you. Thanks, buddy.”
“Yeah, thanks, Max!” Chase said, raising his glass to me.
And before I knew it, they were all raising their glasses to me, and thanking me for my most valuable contribution.
“Oh, you guys,” I said, wiping away a tear.
Okay, so maybe humans are not so bad after all.
[Êàðòèíêà: img_4]
Later that night, to celebrate a job well done, the four of us went down to the park, this time not to catch a blackmailer, but to join cat choir. Brutus was walking behind us, and Harriet was walking in front of us, and the couple hadn’t spoken now for days, it seemed. Frankly I won’t conceal the fact that I was worried.
“How are we going to reconcile these two, Max?” asked Dooley.
“I have no idea,” I said. I might be a good detective, but this case was too hard for me to solve.
We soon arrived at cat choir, and to my surprise, the members of dog choir were also present: Rufus, Fifi, and the others, all gathered in the playground.
Harriet quickly took up her position at the center of cat choir, a big smile on her face, and the moment Brutus finally showed up, dragging his paws, suddenly the entire choir erupted in a loud and cheerful,“Happy birthday, Brutus!”
And before the big cat knew what was happening, Harriet streaked forward, and placed a big smackeroo on his lips and said,“Happy birthday, boo bear!”
“But, but, but…” Brutus stuttered.
And he was still recovering from the surprise, when the two choirs burst into song, singing C?line Dion’sThat’s The Way It Is, with Harriet taking care of the high notes, and the dogs doing those low ones that make all the difference.
When all was said and done, Brutus had been reduced to a blubbering mess of tears and gratitude, and was stammering,“Y-y-you guys!”
“That’s why I was meeting with Kingman and Shanille,” said Harriet as she gave her mate a loving nudge. “I was cooking up a surprise for your birthday!”
“Oh, baby girl!”
“Oh, little muppet!”
“Oh, kit kat!”
“Oh, chickadee!”
“God,” I muttered. And as Harriet and Brutus went and settled down so they could talk some more, I asked Shanille, “Why didn’t you tell us, though? Brutus is our friend.”
“I wanted to tell you,” said Shanille. “But Harriet swore us to secrecy. She said you and Dooley are the best friends any cat could hope to have, but you have one big problem: you can’t keep a secret.”
“I can too keep a secret!” I cried, much offended.
“I also wanted to tell you, Max,” said Kingman.
“And me,” said Fifi.
“And me,” said Rufus.
“Don’t tell me. Harriet didn’t want you to.”
“Strict embargo,” said Rufus.
“She made us promise,” said Fifi.
“She made us swear on the heads of our children!” said Kingman.
“You don’t have any children, Kingman,” I said.
“Maybe I have, maybe I don’t. It’s a secret and I’ll never tell, Max.”
It made me wonder. Did Harriet have a point? Did I have a problem keeping things a secret? I didn’t think so. Or did I?
But the occasion was too festive to fret, and soon I joined in the revels, as Brutus was being f?ted by the entire Hampton Cove cat community, with selected representatives from the canine contingent. Fun was being had by all, and that was good enough for me. Maybe I wouldn’t have been able to keep my mouth shut. Maybe watching Brutus suffer would have been too much for me to bear, and I would have put him out of his misery by revealing the big secret. Who knows?
“I think we can keep a secret, Max,” said Dooley at the end of the night, when we were making our way back to the old homestead. “But sometimes we choose not to, because not keeping it is better than keeping it. We’re smart that way.”
“You think so?”
“Oh, sure. You’re very smart, Max. And sometimes secrets aren’t worth keeping, if a person is suffering because of it. Like with Brutus this week.”
I smiled at my friend. He was right. Sometimes revealing a secret is the right thing to do. And sometimes it isn’t. And knowing the difference is the big trick.
“So maybe you can finally tell usyour secret, Brutus,” I said.
“Yes, cuddle bug,” said Harriet. “What’s your big secret?”
Brutus smiled.“It’s not much of a secret, really, except…”
“Except? Come on, babes, don’t keep us in suspense.”
“Okay, here goes.” He took a deep breath. “When I squint my eyes, my butt itches.”
We all stared at him.“That’s your big secret?”
Brutus shrugged.“I told you it wasn’t much.”
“Can you demonstrate, Brutus?” asked Dooley. “Just to give us an idea?”
And so Brutus gave his best Clint Eastwood impersonation, then scratched his butt to prove his point.
Dooley was laughing his own butt off.“Best. Secret. Ever!” he said.