1c8c0f371c0d914159db2df0bf94b5c6

“Rufus took it pretty well,” I said.

“Rufus is a nice dog,” said Brutus. “A sweet mutt. But not all dogs are like Rufus, and if Harriet starts ruffling feathers, there’s no telling what might happen.”

“Don’t you mean ruffling dog hairs?” asked Dooley.

Brutus decided to ignore Dooley’s contribution. “Dogs may revolt. Turn on us en masse,” he said, painting an apocalyptic picture of a war between cats and dogs.

“Maybe you should tell Harriet to take it easy?” I suggested.

“Have you ever tried to tell Harriet anything? She isn’t one for taking things easy. She’s a can-do cat who doesn’t believe in taking prisoners.” He sighed. “Let’s just see what happens. Maybe Gran will be able to talk some sense into her.”

“I don’t know…” I said. Asking Gran to talk sense into someone is probably like asking a pyromaniac to put out a fire.

We’d arrived at the doctor’s office and now stepped inside. As I had suspected, Gran was seated behind her desk, but instead of playing Solitaire on her computer, like she usually does, she was busily typing away, twin red splotches on her cheekbones a testament to her excitement.

“Hey, Gran,” said Harriet as we walked behind the desk.

“Hey, you,” she said without looking up or taking a break from typing.

“We have a proposition for you,” said Harriet, not deterred by Gran’s obvious lack of interest in our presence. “We want you to join our newly formed association.”

“We want you to become a CCREC’er,” said Dooley proudly.

“Did you just call me a cracker?” said Gran, and finally stopped typing.

“Well, only if you want to,” said Dooley, slightly taken aback by her hard stare.

“Watch your tongue, young feline,” said Gran, wagging a menacing forefinger.

“Hear us out first,” said Shanille, deciding to intervene before things got ugly.

“Shanille? Shouldn’t you be helping Father Reilly convert a few more souls?” said Gran, who hasn’t been Father Reilly’s biggest fan ever since he told her that her soul would probably go to hell for cursing so much.

“Just listen to Shanille, Gran,” said Harriet. “And everything will become clear.”

“Clear as mud, probably,” Gran grunted, but still did as Harriet suggested. And Shanille had barely launched into her speech, when Gran cried, “Serendipity!”

“Sara who?” asked Dooley.

“I was just talking to my son about this! I’m all on board with your scheme, guys. In fact I think I have an even better idea. You know I can’t talk canine, right? But you can. So what I would suggest is we go door to door, and while you talk some sense into those four-legged mutts, I’ll talk to their feeble-brained owners—how does that sound for a plan?”

“Are all dog owners feeble-brained, Gran?” asked Dooley.

“Of course they are. If they had any sense they would have taken a cat, not a dog. But let’s not get distracted. We need to organize this properly, and we need to make it clear this campaign is officially sanctioned by our very own chief of police. Got that?”

“But why, Gran?” asked Harriet.

“Because I said so,” she snapped. “Now let’s get going. No time to waste!”

Tex, who’d just stepped out of his office to see what all the fuss was about, saw his receptionist grab her purse and so he asked, “Are you leaving already, Vesta?”

“Of course I’m leaving! Can’t you tell?”

“But… you’ll be back soon, right?”

“Depends.” She lifted her chin. “I’ve decided to become a cracker, and I’m on a mission—a mission officially sanctioned by your next mayor—Alec Lip. Watch me roar!” And with these words, she left a mystified Tex staring at her retreating back.

“Don’t you think Tex will wonder what this is all about?” asked Harriet once we were outside and making good time.

“Who cares? This mission is bigger than Tex. We’re about to write history here, fellas. If we can pull this off—make Hampton Cove a doo-doo free zone—it will prove infectious, and soon the county will adopt this new policy, and then the state, and the country! And by the time my son is crowned president, we’ll have started a revolution!”

“I don’t think presidents are crowned,” I said.

“Who cares! I’m walking into the White House as the first woman on the planet who achieved the unachievable. They’ll give me medals. They’ll give me rewards. I might even win the Nobel Prize. But do I care? Not a frickin hoot! All I care about is teaching America how to make their dogs go doo-doo on the box. And that’s good enough for me.”

“Oh, boy,” said Brutus. “She’s as nuts as Harriet and Shanille.”

And he was right. It’s one thing to tell people to clean up after their dog, but quite another to order them to potty-train their dogs. People have a tendency to rebel when told to do things, but dogs have a tendency to bite you if you try such a thing.

I had a feeling this town would soon not be safe either for us or Gran.

Chapter 9

The door opened and Odelia found herself staring into Alicia’s smiling face. “Come in,” she said. “Papa is in the library. I told him you were coming, so you should be good.”