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“Whatever. They feel like we trampled all over their feline rights and they’re probably going to the United Nations to file a class-action lawsuit and sue us for a billion bucks. So it’s vital we get them back ASAP and make sure they can’t get in touch with any louche or lawyerly types.”

“Cats can’t sue humans,” said Marge. “That’s ridiculous.”

“We’ll see how ridiculous it is when they slam you with a subpoena and haul your ass to jail,” Gran growled, and headed into her room to put on some clothes. The search party was on. “Oh, and one other thing—I’m going out to Emerald Rhone’s house. There’s been a murder.”

“A murder!”

“Well, officially they’re calling it a suicide, but you know how those Hollywood types are. They probably pumped the poor woman full of cyanide and made it look like a suicide. And if I don’t get there fast, the next dead body just might be Odelia!”

Chapter 17

Dooley and I were still ensconced on our favorite bench, while the two lovebirds—or rather lovecats—were still loving it up in some nearby tree. Foot traffic had picked up on this side of the park, with people starting to emerge from their houses, carrying briefcases and purses and getting into cars to start their working day. Dooley and I watched the steady stream of people and Dooley sighed, “Where are they all going, Max?”

“To work, and school, and shopping—who knows. Humans are very busy people. They always got something going on.”

“That’s probably why they get all kinds of diseases and need to go to the doctor all the time,” he said wisely.

It’s true. Humans go the doctor, like, all the time. Us cats don’t want to be seen dead at the doctor—okay, so maybe that’s a weird way of putting it but you catch my drift, right? We live far healthier, peaceful lives. When we want to sleep, we sleep. When we want to eat, we eat. And apart from that, and a few bathroom breaks and some grooming, we just relax and have a good time.

“Of course there’s the fact that humans have to build all of those big houses and have to pay to keep them up,” I said. “And big houses cost money.”

“And clothes,” Dooley said. “Humans wear all these different clothes.”

“And shampoo and soap and all kinds of cosmetics,” I added. “Don’t forget about cosmetics.”

Nope. Cats don’t need to take showers or wear clothes or use hair gel. We don’t even wear shoes or anything. Just a lick and a flick and we’re good to go.

“Still,” said Dooley. “It’s nice to share those houses with our humans—those big houses they pay so much money and work so hard for.”

“Yeah, sure is nice to have a place to call home,” I agreed.

Which brought us right back to the reason we were languishing out there in the first place: what was taking our humans so long to organize a search and rescue party? By now they should have alerted the National Guard, or maybe the army or FBI, and launched a nationwide dragnet. Instead, crickets.

Talking about crickets, two cats deftly came walking up and joined us on the bench.

“And? All differences settled?” I asked when Brutus and Harriet huddled close together, loving smiles on their respective faces.

“I’ve decided to stay male,” said Brutus proudly. “It kinda suits me, being male, and Harriet agrees. Isn’t that right, lemon drop?”

“Exactly right, love nugget. And since I kinda like being a female, I think it works out nicely for both of us.”

“Now all I need to do is convince Odelia to remove this knot from my tubes and I’ll be right as rain.”

“And then when she removes the knot from my tubes, we can finally start that family we’ve been yearning for so much,” said Harriet, giving her mate a loving nudge with her head.

In actual fact Harriet had only started yearning for a family since Brutus started having doubts about his inner male or female, but I wasn’t one to quibble—or start a fight with Harriet.

“What’s all this about knots in tubes?” asked Dooley, interested.

“Oh, we just met Milo,” said Harriet. “Remember Milo?”

How could I forget. Our neighbor’s cat had lived with us for a while, and I still shivered at the recollection.

“So we got to talking about this neutering and spaying thing. And Milo told us the procedure can easily be reversed. See, they tie a knot in certain reproductive tubes—I’m not going to bore you with the details—but the important thing is that they can always untie these knots and get everything back on track. It’s a simple procedure and will put us both back in business.” She chuckled in a low, husky voice, indicating what she meant by business.

It went right over Dooley’s head. “Reproductive tubes?” he asked. “What are reproductive tubes?”

“Oh, it’s how babies are made,” said Harriet. Too late she saw me gesturing wildly. Dooley hadn’t yet reached the age where he’d learned about the birds and the bees, and I wasn’t prepared to be the one to have to explain it to him.

“Babies?” Dooley asked, confused. “But I thought big birds brought babies into this world? What are they called? Storks?”