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And we would have gotten lost, if not the door had suddenly been slammed shut, the car put in gear and we were surprised to find we were on the move.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

But the corgis looked too stunned to respond.

Fr?ulein was staring at the driver, then stammered, “That’s not Bart!”

As if he understood, the man turned and smiled a yellow-toothed grin at us.“Brace yourselves, pooches—this is a kidnapping!” And to prove he wasn’t kidding, he stomped down on the accelerator and the car lurched forward.

We were being abducted—along with the Queen’s corgis!

Chapter 24

“Um, what’s happening?” asked Sweetie.

“I think you guys are being kidnapped,” said Harriet.

“Not just them,” I said. “We’re being kidnapped right alongside them!”

Oh, boy. This wasn’t good. I’d never been kidnapped before, but I had a sinking feeling I wasn’t going to like it.

“Kidnapped?” said Sweetie as if the concept was alien to her. “What do you mean, kidnapped?”

“It’s when they take you against your will and then they ask money to let you go,” Dooley explained patiently. He glanced to me. “It was on the Discovery Channel. There was this rich girl who was kidnapped, and then she started to really like her kidnapper. I think she even wanted to marry him.”

I studied the driver, who was chewing gum with his mouth open and tapping the wheel with a dirty fingernail. No way was I marrying this guy.

“But… we can’t be kidnapped!” said Sweetie. “That just doesn’t happen to us. We’re the Queen’s corgis! The Queen’s corgis simply don’t get kidnapped!”

“Well, you are now,” said Brutus, who seemed to derive a certain satisfaction from the fact.

“This is all your fault, cat,” Sweetie told him viciously. “We meet you and five minutes later we are being kidnapped. Coincidence? I think not!”

“We had nothing to do with this!” said Brutus.

“Yes, we’re victims just as much as you guys,” said Harriet.

“So how are we going to handle this?” I asked. I frowned at the door. “Does this thing open? Where’s the handle?”

“It’s fully automated,” said Fr?ulein. “There is no handle.”

Our jabbering must have alerted the driver, for he looked over his shoulder.“Hey, you’re cats,” he said.

“Well spotted, sir,” I said. “Well spotted.”

The guy wasn’t happy about this development, though, for he grabbed his phone and began tapping it furiously.

“Hey—no texting and driving!” Sweetie called out.

“I think we have bigger issues than road safety right now,” said Fr?ulein. “If these cats are right, we’ve just been dognapped. Which means they’ll want to ask money for us and they’ll lock us up until the Queen agrees to pay up.”

“Oh, but of course she’ll agree,” said Sweetie. “We’re her precious corgis! She’d never let anything bad happen to us. Would she?”

“Of course not,” said Molly.

“I’m not so sure,” said Fr?ulein. “Last time I checked the Queen is winding down her corgi-producing extravaganza. I’ll bet she is switching breeds.”

“Switching breeds!” cried Sweetie. “She wouldn’t!”

“She would. In a changing world it’s important for a public figure like the Queen to stay relevant. Keeping things fresh. Maybe she’d like to adopt a Chihuahua for a change? Or a Maltipoo? Or even a micro teacup Poodle. Those teacup dogs are all the rage right now. I hear Katy Perry has one.”

“Who cares what Katy Perry has!” said her colleague. “The Queen would never trade us in for a bunch of… dumb animals!”

“We’re animals, too,” Molly reminded her.

“We’re not animals! We’re corgis!”

“Listen, I got a problem,” the driver spoke into his phone. “No, yeah, I got the dogs, but there’s four cats in with them, innit? Yeah,cats. So what am I supposed to do with four cats? That wasn’t part of the deal. Throw them out?”

“I don’t like where this is going,” said Dooley, and I agreed. Being thrown out of a moving vehicle sounded like a perfectly painful proposition.

The driver glanced back at us.“You mean, just dump em. Great. Yeah, whatever, bruv.” He disconnected and drove on in silence for a while, then looked back at us, and said, probably more to himself than to us, “They’re telling me to dump you guys. But I don’t think I’m going to do that. I like animals, you see. I mean, it doesn’t look like I do but I do. Which is why I’m going to take you along and maybe keep you for myself. Or I could sell you. Nice-looking cats such as yourselves, I’m pretty sure you’ll fetch a pretty penny.” He turned to look at the road again, much to my relief. “Yeah, that’s what I’ll do. I’ll sell them. And maybe keep just one. I’ll keep the fat red one. Fat red cats bring luck. Everybody knows that.”

I glanced at the others, suddenly panicky.“Is he talking about me?”

“Do you see any other red fat cats?” Brutus asked with a nasty undertone.

I looked around. A white Persian, a butch black cat, a gray cat and three corgis.“No, I don’t,” I said weakly.

“So?” said Brutus.

“But I’m not fat! I’m big-boned. And I’m not red, I’m blorange!”

“Tell that to the guy,” Brutus suggested. “I’m sure he’ll want to know.”

“What’s blorange?” asked Fr?ulein curiously.