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The window definitely had potential, but how to get up there? Luckily for us Mr. Blandine had planted a sapling once upon a time, which had grown into a sizable tree. Now IÆm not a big fan of the art of climbing trees, since IÆve had my share of close encounters with firefighters having to come to my assistance after I happened to get stuck in one, but this seemed to be the only way to carry out our nocturnal mission.

And so we went for it. First Dooley made his way up the tree, by digging his claws into the soft bark, followed by yours truly. And then it was a simple matter of balancing on a sturdy branch, hopping to the windowsill, and sneaking in.

We found ourselves in what looked like a spare bedroom, with an unmade bed and plenty of boxes piled up high. In the corner an ironing board stood, as well as a desk, but when we subjected the latter to a closer scrutiny, we found no trace of a laptop, phone, tablet or any other electronic device.

But we werenÆt as easily defeated as this, and so we snuck out into the corridor, fully prepared to expand our search to the rest of the house.

And thatÆs when we heard it: sounds of lovemaking were coming from one of the other rooms.

Dooley and I froze and shared a look of surprise. When traipsing along in the house of a woman whoÆs just lost her husband to a terrible crime, the last thing one expects is the sound of a couple making love.

ôProbably the television,ö Dooley opined.

ôYeah, probably,ö I agreed.

Now I know we should have proceeded in the opposite direction of those sounds, since only trouble could come from investigating the matter further, but then cats will be cats, and my sense of curiosity was thusly tickled that I simply had to know what was going on. Of course different people react differently to grief, but this was one method of coping with the loss of a beloved spouse that I hadnÆt read about inCosmopolitan orGood Housekeeping. Even to Dr. Phil this was probably a novel approach to the agony of bereavement.

And so we found ourselves tiptoeing in the direction of the source of those sounds. A woman was moaning, a man was groaning, a mattress was squeaking and bed boards were slapping against the wall in a manner which signaled an explosion of hot passion.

My cheeks were burning underneath my fur, and from the worried glances Dooley shot in my direction as we crept ever closer to what was most probably the master bedroom, I could tell that he was as concerned with what weÆd find as I was.

ôWe have to stop them, Max,ö he whispered now. ôOr call the police!ö

ôWhy?ö I asked. ôAs far as I know thereÆs no law against this.ö

ôHeÆs murdering her, Max! Or sheÆs murdering him!ö

It is of course hard to distinguish between the sounds of a couple engaged in an act of carnality and a couple trying to murder each other. Both share certain similarities, but I think IÆm an old hand at recognizing the difference. Our humans are, after all, a recently married couple, and even though I prefer not to be present when theyÆre consummating their sacred bond, IÆve heard enough to know that this was not an act of murder but love.

So I pushed open the door to the bedroom, tiptoed around the bed, and gasped in shock at what my keen eyes observed.

Maisie Blandine was in bed with her brother-in-law Fabrizio Blandine, and they werenÆt playing a game of Scrabble!

Unfortunately for us, Dooley wasnÆt as skilled at keeping his surprise to himself, for when he caught a good look at the surprising couple, he squealed with sincere shock.

Maisie practically jumped to the ceiling, and so did Fabrizio, and the moment theyÆd switched on the light, both Dooley and myself found ourselves simply sitting there and staringùlike a pair of deer in the headlights!

Big mistake.

ôAaaaargh!ö Maisie screamed.

ôCats!ö Fabrizio hollered, as if we were the ultimate horror.

And then they were crawling out of bed and grabbing for anything they could find to throw at us!

Now the sight of humans in a state of undress is terrible enough in the best of times, but when they have murder on their minds, as these two clearly had, itÆs much, much worse!

Humans, you see, are not covered in fur, like cats are. While our physique is nicely concealed, providing an excellent esthetic, they have all their dangly stuff on full display.

Talk about a horror movie!

So Dooley and I screamed probably as loud or even louder than this twosome, and then made a beeline for the open window where we planned to make our speedy escape.

Unfortunately the Blandines had other plans. While Mr. Blandine cut off our avenue of escape, Mrs. Blandine had found a broom with which she seemed intent on hitting us where it hurt. Moments later, she had us cornered, and things looked very bleak indeed! It wasnÆt helped by the sight of all of her wobbly bits jiggling and joggling like crazy!

ôMax! Over here!ö suddenly a voice rang out. I looked past Maisie Blandine, still brandishing her broom, and sawà Brutus!