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Octo-Cat and Grizabella began the following day by feasting on jumbo shrimp from a crystal goblet and lying together in a sunbeam most of the afternoon. At night they snuggled up in front of a roaring fire and took turns giving each other tongue baths.

On the third day of our visit, the two kitty lovers strolled through the flowerbeds and ate some grass from the back lawn.

And on the fourth day, they both had upset tummies. This, however, did not stop Octo-Cat from wooing his love by hunting a robin and delivering its carcass for her enjoyment.

Day five is when the anguished mewling began. They both knew their trip was almost up and hated the thought of being separated again so soon after they’d been reunited.

When we began our drive home on day six, poor Octo-Cat was beyond devastated. He hardly spoke at all—not even to complain—the entire drive home. But we couldn’t add even an hour’s delay to our return trip, given the upcoming trial by seagull that awaited us back home. I needed to be there to help Charles deliver his case, or the flock would assuredly wreak unholy terror on us. After all, they’d promised.

Paisley made sure to cuddle and groom Octo-Cat in turns, being the friend he needed but hadn’t quite felt up to asking for. Nan focused on the drive and the new audiobook we’d picked up in town. This one was a sweeping historical saga that actually ran longer than our entire drive time, if you can believe that.

Once home, I had just enough time to take a good two-hour nap before Charles arrived to collect me so we could drive together to the seagulls’ dumpster in Dewdrop Springs.

I gathered my hair in a messy ponytail and pulled on a polka-dotted maxi dress to wear with my thick boots and a coat, and we were off.

“Are you ready for the biggest case of your life?” I joked, happy that it was just me and him in the car and that this drive would only be half an hour instead of thirty-five.

“I’m not ready at all,” he confessed with a heavy sigh. “Pringle never came back.”

“What?” I stared at him as if I’d be able to read the explanation on his face. “But it’s been over a week.”

Charles tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, a nervous tic of his.“I know. That’s why I’m so worried. Do you think something happened to him?”

Dread flooded my gut. For all his faults, Pringle was my friend. A colleague, too. I hated to think that something may have happened to him.

“I’m sure he’s okay.” I forced a smile and placed my hand on Charles’s arm to steady his anxious rapping at the wheel. “He probably just got distracted and lost track of time. That’s all.”

“So what do we do without his evidence? I know none of the facts beyond what we were initially told, and something feels off about the story they told us. If their case is so cut and dry, why do they need us in the first place? Why did that one bird stay on me day in and day out while all the others waited in my yard?”

I knew he would feel better if he had answers going in, but unfortunately there was nothing to be done now. All I could do was try to comfort him and pray this would be finished quickly.“I know you want to do a good job and that you want to be on the side of truth and justice here, but you can only do so much. Present your argument, and then let the birds figure out the rest.”

“I know you’re right. Of course I do, but my intuition keeps gnawing at me. Something’s not right.”

I rubbed his arm soothingly and changed the topic. Talking about all the pieces we didn’t have would only make defending the seagulls’ right to the land that much more difficult for him.

We pulled into the empty strip mall parking lot and found the entire flock waiting for us. Once again, they led us back to the clearing in the field, and there a second even larger flock waited.

“Are we ready to begin proceedings?” A one-legged seagull cawed. I tried not to stare, but he caught me looking, anyway, and shrieked, “Our human guests must show proper respect for the court!”

My poor ears.“Ouch, ouch, okay. Sorry,” I muttered as they continued to ring.

Bravo landed on Charles’s shoulder. “Go get ‘em, tiger.”

And Alpha took up a perch on mine.“You better pray he doesn’t mess this one up.”

Gulp.

“So where’s your flock’s lawyer?” I asked the one-legged gull.

“I am the judge here!” he cried even louder than the first time.

“I will be presenting the case on behalf of Flock 84,” a young female bird announced, extending one wing in greeting.

“All rise,” Judgey McJudgerson said while glaring at us.

I bit my lip to stop myself from pointing out that we were all already standing. Given how loud his caws could be, I definitely didn’t want to do anything else that could upset the one-legged banshee.

He glanced at Charles and me then to the bird lawyer and began,“We are gathered here today in holy legality to discuss the dispute between flocks 82 and 84 over the territory previously held by Flock 83. Are there any objections? If so, speak them now or forever hold your peace.”