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“Exactly! Too long. We’re cats. We’re not even supposed to be involved in this crime stuff. What we should do is lie around, have a bit to eat from time to time, or go for a stroll, and generally have a great old time. What we shouldn’t be doing, because it is unnatural, and not in our job description, is hunt around for killers. It’s dangerous, and it’s not a lot of fun.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Brutus. “I kinda like hunting around for horrible killers.”

“Speak for yourself. I’ve had enough of this nonsense, and I think going on strike, as Max suggests, is a great idea. In fact I think we should go on an indefinite strike.”

“Meaning?” asked Brutus.

“Meaning we hand in our resignation! We tell Odelia that we won’t be her flunkeys any longer and that from now on she can find her own killers.”

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea,” said Dooley, always the most conscientious of the lot. “Odelia relies on us to bring her those vital clues she likes so much.”

“Well, from now on she’ll just have to root around for those vital clues herself, won’t she? In fact,” she added, getting up from her prostrate position, “I’ve seen all I need to see of this horrible place. Brutus, let’s go home.”

And since a suggestion from Harriet always has the ring of finality to it, Brutus had no other choice than to follow her home. Before she turned away, though, she had one last thing to say.“If you two decide to stick around and help Odelia in any way, you’re the worst suckers in the history of suckerhood.”

“We’re not sticking around, are we, Dooley?” I said.

“I don’t mind sticking around,” said Dooley.

“Of course you don’t,” said Harriet, a little nastily I thought. “What about you, Max? You’re the one who suggested we go on strike.”

“I know,” I said. “But we just got here, and I don’t feel like walking all the way back to the house.”

“Well, I do,” she said, and beckoned for her mate to follow her.

“Sorry, guys,” said Brutus. “Looks like you’ll have to go on strike all by yourselves.”

I had a feeling Brutus was still a little fuzzy about the whole strike concept, but I didn’t feel like explaining it to him, so I merely held up a paw in goodbye, and then Harriet and Brutus were off for a leisurely walk through the outer boroughs of Hampton Cove.

“I’m not sure I want to strike, Max,” said Dooley. “Is it difficult?”

“It’s very easy,” I said. “You simply don’t do what you normally do.”

He thought hard about this, judging from the thought wrinkles on his brow.“So… we’re supposed to be looking around for witnesses of this murder business, right?”

“Right.”

“So… going on strike means we don’t look for witnesses of the murder?”

“Exactly!”

His face fell.“But then what are we supposed to do? I mean, this striking business seems to be more a lack of activity and not an activity in itself.”

“We can simply lounge around out here and wait for Odelia to return and take us back into town. In the meantime we take a nap or something.”

“But if she asks what we’ve discovered, what are we going to tell her?”

“We tell her the truth. That we’re on strike and we haven’t discovered a single thing.”

He gave me a dubious look.“I don’t think she’ll be happy about that.”

“That’s the point, Dooley. We show her that we’re not happy by not doing what she tells us to do, at which point she’ll realize how badly she’s been treating us and she’ll repent and promise to do better next time.”

“And do you think that’s going to work?”

“I don’t know, Dooley. But we have to try. It’s obvious she and Chase are getting ready to leave Hampton Cove and start a new life across the pond, leaving us in the hands of Tex and Marge and Gran. And even though I believe in every individual’s right to map their own course in life, I still feel we should express our disappointment and try to persuade her to include us in her plans.” Though, truth be told, if Odelia really was planning on leaving us behind, I didn’t know if I wanted to be included in her future endeavors. A human capable of betrayal on such a massive scale wasn’t the kind of human I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, if you know what I mean.

Dooley seemed to feel the same way, for he now plunked down on the fashion designer’s smooth lawn, and heaved a deep sigh as he placed his head on his front paws. “Life is complicated, Max, don’t you agree?”

“Yes, I do,” I said simply, and lay down on the manicured turf next to Dooley, placing my chin on my paws just like him.

After a moment, he asked,“So are we on strike now?”

“We’re on strike,” I confirmed.

“Nice,” he said. “I kinda like it.”

“Me, too, actually. Peaceful.”

“Very peaceful.”