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I watched on with a modicum of weariness and exasperation as my human packed her weekend bag. Usually when Odelia goes on a trip she cordially invites me and Dooley along with her, and sometimes even Harriet and Brutus. Now, she was going away for the weekend and I wasn’t invited!

Odelia was in no frame of mind to discuss what was obviously a grave oversight on her part. She was frowning so furiously I thought those grooves lining her brow would become permanently etched into her fair skin.

“Lemme see,” she muttered. “Toiletries, check, phone charger, check, laptop and charger, check…” She heaved a deep sigh and her eyes flicked to her wardrobe. “Chase!” she suddenly cried. “Chase—where are you?!”

“What’s wrong, babe?” Chase asked, as he came running.

She flapped her arms like a chicken.“I have nothing to wear!”

Chase heaved a sigh of relief.“I thought you were in trouble.”

“I am in trouble! I’m going to spend the weekend with the most gorgeous, most successful, most iconic actresses of our time and I’ve got nothing to wear!”

Chase moved over to the closet and gave it a critical look. He let his hand trail along the outfits.“You’ve got plenty of stuff, honey. Any of these will do.”

She gave him a scathing look, the kind that says: of course you would say a dumb thing like that. You’re a guy!

“I need my mom,” she said, and Chase left the room, realizing he didn’t fit that particular description. Moments later, Odelia opened the bedroom window and hollered, “Mom! I need you in here! Now!”

It was a testament to her nervous condition that she would resort to shouting at her mother like that. Usually Odelia is the most mild-mannered human any cat could ever hope to be adopted by. Today she was giving every indication of being on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

Like Chase, I decided to return downstairs. Things were looking pretty grim, and I needed my best buddy to confide in and commiserate with.

Dooley watched me descend the stairs with a hopeful look on his face. But when he caught my expression that hope was quickly squashed like a bug.

“No dice?” he asked, just to be sure.

“No dice,” I confirmed. “She’s not taking us and that’s her final word.” And even if I wanted to try and convince her, I knew from long association with Odelia that now wasn’t the time. “She’s having trouble packing,” I explained as I took position next to Dooley on the couch. “Doesn’t know what to wear.”

“Oh,” he said, immediately understanding.

“Yeah.”

“So that’s that, then.”

“That’s that,” I agreed.

We both stretched out on the couch and stared before us, musing about what could have been.

Marge came in through the sliding glass door and directed an anxious look at us. I said,“Nothing to wear,” and Marge immediately understood, for she nodded once, plastered a look of determination on her face and proceeded up the stairs.

Odelia has always been a nervous packer, and now, with her star-studded weekend coming up, things were even worse than usual. For a reporter this is a highly unusual situation, you might say, but then Odelia is not one of your globe-trotting reporters who practically live in their suitcases. She doesn’t traverse the Sahel in a beat-up Jeep with only a toothbrush and her wits. She doesn’t look to interview rebels in the jungles of war-torn Angola. She’s a small-time reporter for a small-town rag called theHampton Cove Gazette, so she hardly does any traveling at all. This weekend was an exception, therefore, and I could see why this would exacerbate the situation to the point she needed her mother to help negotiate the packing of her weekender case.

Next to us, Chase had also taken a seat, and now the three of us were waiting, like expectant parents awaiting news from the maternity ward, or the Catholic flock in Saint Peter’s Square for white smoke from the papal chimney.

“I still think she should have invited us,” said Dooley.

“What’s done is done, Dooley,” I said, though I couldn’t agree more.

“But why? Why doesn’t she want to take us?”

“Because Emerald Rhone is allergic to cats.”

Emerald Rhone, the most famous actress of our time, was allergic to cats. It was hard to believe and yet it was true. The moment I heard it, I experienced a slight diminution of my love and timeless admiration for the screen legend.

“I still find it hard to believe Odelia would be invited to spend the weekend with Emerald Rhone,” said Dooley. “Does she even know her?”

“I doubt it. As far as I know Odelia’s boss wangled the invitation.”

Dan Goory, editor of theHampton Cove Gazette and Odelia’s boss, prides himself on being the most well-connected man in the Hamptons. His address book is a veritable Who’s Who of the rich and famous, and among those luminaries, apparently, is the one and only Emerald, the greatest living actress.

“I can’t believe Emerald is allergic to cats,” said Dooley.

“I can’t believe it either and yet it is so,” I said.

We both mused on this most unthinkable thing for a while.