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It certainly took the sting out of being kicked out of cat choir. Shanille might even take me back now. She was a sucker for all things royal.

“First Catand a knight,” Brutus grunted. “Sweet.”

Harriet produced a feeble whimper. We all looked at her. She was biting her lip, clearly worried about something.

“Aren’t you happy, Harriet?” I asked. “This is a huge honor.”

She gave me an apologetic smile.“I just wonder where they’ll pin the badge and ribbon.”

Ouch!

14. PURRFECT CUT

Chapter 1

A bashful sun was playing peekaboo over the horizon and distributing its first timid rays upon a restful world when I woke up. As usual I’d been dozing at the foot of my human’s bed after having spent the first part of the night exploring the ultimate range of my singing voice. As you may or may not know, I’ve long been a member of Hampton Cove’s cat choir, pride of our small town, where cats can still be cats and sing theirlittle hearts out. Only Shanille, our stalwart and earnest conductor, had recently kicked me out of the choir, on account of the fact that several of the members had complained about my abject failure to carry a tune. The incident had greatly saddened me, as you can well imagine, since I’ve always been a staunch proponent of cats’ rights to express themselves in song. So when my membership card was withdrawn I must confess it shook me to the very core of my being.

Fortunately I’m not the kind of cat who takes life’s vicissitudes lying down, so to speak, even though ironically enough I do spend a great portion of my life lying down, and soon I was practicing hard to make a triumphant return.

Last night offered me the first opportunity since returning from England, where my human’s adventures had taken us, to showcase my progress. And to my elation Shanille and the other members—even those whose complaints had terminated my contract in the first place—deemed me fit for duty once more.

So it was with renewed fervor that I rejoined the choir’s rank and file, and I won’t conceal the fact that the whole thing gave me a distinct sense that all was well in my world, and upon ending last night’s rehearsal, I practically skipped along the road, extremely pleased with myself and my progress.

It isn’t too much to say that the mood was festive, so my friends and I decided to paint this small town of ours red, and Brutus led us along all of his favorite haunts, like a nice little rooftop restaurant that keeps the bins out where we can reach them, and our gang of four—myself, Dooley, Harrietand of course Brutus—experienced an enjoyable night on the town. It was only understandable, then, that I felt the need to sleep in. It was with a slight sense of annoyance, therefore, that I greeted the rising sun, which had decided to cut my extended slumber short by spreading its light across a peaceful world.

I stretched and yawned cavernously, as is my habit, and glanced around in search of Dooley, who usually likes to fall asleep next to me. Once upon a time we used to have a big chunk of the bed all to ourselves, but that was before Odelia decided to hook up with a burly policeman who answers to the name Chase Kingsley, and asked him to move in with her. Nowadays the bed is a little cramped for two humans and two cats, which tends to create a touch of awkwardness. The issue isn’t Odelia, who’s a fairly shortish human being, so her feet don’t invade the stretch of bed I like to call my own. What’s more, she tends to curl up into a ball when she sleeps—the fetus position I think experts like to call it—which adds to my acreage. No, the problem is Chase, who’sone of those long and stretchy humans, and likes to stick his feet where they don’t belong: in our territory. I’ve mentioned this to Odelia, and she’s promised to have a talk with the invasive cop, but until then it’s tough for a cat to find the space to sleep in peace. Especially since Chase is not one of your more peaceful sleepers. The man tends to toss and turn, and even lash out when the mood strikes, giving poor Dooley the occasional kick in the tail end.

I guess scientists who claim that people sleeping in separate beds enjoy a deeper, better sleep are on to something. All I know is that if only Chase would sleep in a separate bed, we’d all be better off—or at least I would.