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10. PURRFECT OBSESSION

Chapter 1

I was lying on my back in the backyard, languidly gazing up at the clouds slowly drifting past my field of vision. My paws were dangling wherever they might, my tail was drooping, and it wasn’t too much to say that all was well in this best of all worlds.

Some would have called it the calm before the storm, but they would be cynics. This wasn’t the calm before the storm. This was the calm after the storm, as there had been rain overnight, and the grass was still soggy and drops clung to Odelia’s roses’ petals.

Next to me, my best friend and co-feline Dooley lay in the same position, also idly gazing up at the sky. There was apprehension in his gaze, though, his usual response to looking at that big slice of heaven up above. His eternal fear is that a piece of this heaven might one day come crashing down on us. And no matter how many times I’ve assured him that this is simply impossible, there’s no way to dissuade him from these erroneous ideas.

“I don’t know, Max,” he said now, shaking his head.

“What don’t you know?” I murmured, my eyes drifting closed. There’s only so much to look at when you’re gazing at the sky. It’s blue and all looks pretty much the same to me.

“I don’t know about this lying around, doing absolutely nothing.”

“It’s what us cats do best,” I said. “We lie around doing nothing.”

“But it just feels… wrong, you know.”

“No, I don’t know. What are you talking about?”

“This … “ He gestured at the sky. “And this…” he added, indicating the smooth lawn that was our favorite hangout spot on a sunny day like this—especially after a nice storm.

“I don’t get it, Dooley,” I said lazily. “Please elaborate.”

“I just don’t understand how you can lie around while there’s so much to be done.”

“Nothing needs to be done,” I said, my eyes now having closed completely, my head slumping to the side. I felt a power nap coming on, and nothing Dooley said was going to prevent me from enjoying it tremendously.

“There’s probably murder cases to be solved.”

“Not a single one.”

“Or-or missing humans to be found?”

“Nobody’s gone missing as far as I know.”

“Dangerous diseases to be fought? Pests to be eradicated? Threats to be thwarted? Max! We can’t just lie around here while who knows what is happening all around us!”

“Oh, just relax, Dooley,” I muttered, on the verge of tumbling headfirst into sleep.

“Relax! How can I relax when… when…”

But at this point I’d finally found sleep, or maybe sleep had found me? At any rate I’d become blissfully oblivious of Dooley’s ramblings. There’s only so much angst one can stomach. And it was with extreme reluctance that I pulled myself from the depths of a super slumber when a sharp voice interrupted a sweet dream about a new addition to cat choir, a tabby tease who wasn’t merely blessed with great pipes, but was quite the looker to boot.

“Max! Wake up! Something terrible has happened!”

It was Harriet, who’s a member of our posse. Immediately, I was up and ready for action. When Dooley is yammering on about all sorts of imaginary threats, I’m not bothered. That’s just par for the course. But when Harriet does the same… it means something’s up.

“What’s wrong?” I didn’t even bother rubbing the sleep from my eyes. It’s one of the advantages of being a cat: there’s never any sleep that needs to be rubbed. One moment we’re practically comatose, the next we’re shifting into high gear, all at the drop of a hat. Or the flash of awhite whisker, as in this case. That’s millions of years of evolution for you.

“It’s Odelia,” said Harriet, a strikingly pretty white Persian. She was slightly panting. With my keen detective’s eye, I could tell she’d been running. Or was under duress. Or both.

“Odelia! What’s wrong with Odelia?” Dooley practically yelled.

Odelia is our human, and in that sense pretty much our raison d’?tre one could say. I know, I know. Cats are supposed to be these independent creatures, unattached and unfettered. Don’t let our stoic and aloof look fool you, though. We do care about our humans, and we don’t like it when something bad happens to them. That’s why I was ready to skip sleep and follow Harriet without a moment’s hesitation, and so was Dooley.

“What happened to her?” I asked, already fearing the worst.

“Just hurry,” said Harriet, and sprinted ahead of us at a high rate of speed. We tore through the backyard, tore through the small strip that separates Odelia’s house from her neighbors, and tore out across the front yard. Ours is a corner of the world where people still enjoy living in houses that are detached, semi-detached or even attached. No apartments for us, and a good thing, too. I wouldn’t enjoy being an apartment cat.

We were out onto the street and Harriet still showed no signs of slowing down. Already I was breathing heavily. I’m a cat built for cuddles, not for speed. Some people call me portly, but they’re wrong, of course. I’m big-boned is what I am. A matter of genetics.

“Where are we going?” I managed between two stertorous intakes of breath.