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“You don’t have to be scared, little Fifi,” said Shanille. Instead of backing off, she was advancing on the creature. “I’m Father Reilly’s cat, and the Bible teaches us to love all creatures great and small, so I can assure you I’m not a threat to you. On the contrary, I think you’re one of the Lord’s creatures, just like me and my dear, dear friends here.”

“Go away, cat,” said Fifi, indicating she wasn’t impressed by this lecture. “Leave me alone.”

“Look, I’ll just say my piece and then we’ll be out of your hair,” I said, which, I now noticed, was adorned with a big pink bow. Very cute. “Dogs all over Hampton Cove are joining the litter box revolution, and I’m sure you don’t want to be left behind. If you learn to go on the litter box now, you’ll be part of the avant-garde of a new and exciting movement. For only nine ninety-nine your owner can pick up a litter box at the General Store, and get two bags of litter thrown in. You simply enter the box, do your business, and you’ll come out smelling like roses—or baby powder, whichever you prefer. Join the litter box revolution now and be a cool dog. There, that was my sales pitch. Questions?”

Gran had really drilled the speech into us, but I still had a feeling it was lacking thatje ne sais quoi. Then again, I’m not a salescat, so I probably had fumbled my delivery.

“What’s a litter box?” asked Fifi now, showing her first sign of interest.

“Well, it’s a big box with litter inside it,” I said, “and it magically absorbs your pee and your poo. Pee and poo go in, and you come out, clean as a whistle and smelling, as I said, like roses—or baby powder—but the latter will set you back eleven ninety-nine.”

“Why is that, Max?” asked Dooley. “Why are babies more expensive than roses?”

“Shush, Dooley,” I said. “I’m in the middle of an important sales pitch here.”

“It sounds really nice,” Fifi admitted. “I would love to smell like roses. Pink roses. Pink is my color, you see. I have everything pink. Pink bowls, pink basket, pink pillows….”

“Oh, but itis nice. Us cats have been using litter boxes for years and years and years, and now it’s your turn.”

“You mean you were part of the beta test for this litter box thing?”

I paused.“Um, sure. Cats were part of the beta test group, and now this cool gadget is being rolled out to all pets, dogs included. So you don’t want to miss this opportunity.”

“I think it might be cool,” said Fifi, carefully emerging from behind her tree.

“Oh, yeah, it’s the coolest thing possible,” Harriet assured the little doggie. “You’ll be the coolest dog in school.”

“I don’t go to school, though,” said Fifi, eyeing Harriet uncertainly, nose twitching.

“It’s just a figure of speech,” I said. “What Harriet means to say is that if you become part of the litter box vanguard, you’ll be the coolest dog in town. And who doesn’t want to be the coolest dog in town, right?”

“I’m not cool,” said Fifi sadly. “At least that’s what other dogs keep telling me.”

“This will change all that,” I promised her. “This will make every dog treat you with the respect that you deserve.”

“They’ll look up to you,” said Brutus. “They’ll think you’re the hippest dude on the block.”

“I’m not a dude, though,” said Fifi.

“Okay, fine. You’ll be the hippest chick,” Brutus amended his previous statement.

“I’d like to be a hip chick,” said Fifi, now fully out from behind her tree.

She was obviously overcoming her fear of cats, a testament to the transformational power of the CCREC message and the litter box revolution sweeping our town.

Oh, boy. I guess I’d drunk the Kool-Aid, too.

“Will it make me prettier?” asked Fifi now. “This litter box thing?”

“Oh, sure,” said Harriet without batting an eye. “Litter does wonders for your skin and your fur. Just look at me.” She preened a little, showing off that shiny white coat.

Fifi stared at it with rapt fascination.“You have such lovely fur, Harriet. I’ve always admired you from afar—ever since I was adopted by Kurt. I think you look amazing.”

“Why, thanks, Fifi. And it’s all due to the amazing powers of litter,” said Harriet, unashamedly plugging litter as a regular panacea. I guess sheis a born salescat.

“The power of litter will also make you stronger,” said Brutus. “Make you butch like me.” He flexed his muscles. “No dog is going to mess with you when you’re muscular.”

“I would love to be more muscular,” said Fifi. “And bigger and stronger, too.”

“Well, adopt the litter box lifestyle and amazing strength will be yours,” said Brutus.

“And don’t forget about self-confidence,” Shanille told the bashful Yorkie. “Embrace the litter box lifestyle and you’ll become a new dog. Gone will be the fear of cats or other creatures. You’ll be a completely new Fifi by the time you walk out of your litter box.”

Fifi’s eyes had begun to shine with the light of holy fervor. “Strength, beauty, self-confidence,” she murmured. “Is there anything this wonder-box can’t accomplish?”