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“I like flyboys as much as the next fly girl,” said Marge, “but what I don’t like is watching the same movie over and over and over again.”

“It’s a classic!” said Gran. “Just likeTitanic! You never get bored withTitanic, do you? So?”

Marge shook her head. This was not an argument she was going to win.“You guys are awfully quiet,” she said instead, addressing the four of us.

Reading from left to right there was Dooley, yours truly, Brutus and Harriet. Harriet strictly speaking belongs to Marge, Brutus to Chase, and Dooley to Gran, but basically we consider the entire Poole family our home.

“They’re not happy Odelia didn’t take them along,” said Gran without looking away from her flyboys’ exploits. “And quite frankly neither am I.”

“Emerald is allergic to cats. Some people are,” said Marge.

“You mean to tell me that Emerald Rhone, reigning queen of Tinseltown, is allergic to cats? I don’t believe it.”

“That’s what Odelia told me.”

Gran was shaking her head and muttering something under her breath. She wasn’t a big fan of people who weren’t big fans of cats.

“She can’t help it if she’s allergic, can she?” said Marge. “It’s a medical thing.”

“Medical thing my ass. I’ll bet she’s faking it.”

“That’s crazy. Why would she fake being allergic to cats?”

“For the attention! These Hollywood types all have imaginary medical conditions. I’ll bet she’s not allergic to cats at all, just making a big thing out of it. And meanwhile poor Max is deprived the company of his favorite human.”

“I like to think we’re all Max’s favorite humans,” said Marge a little huffily.

“Cats like Max attach themselves to one human for life, and in his case that human happens to be Odelia—so tough luck for the rest of us.”

“Well,” said Marge. “I’m sure you’re just imagining it. Max loves all of us exactly the same. Isn’t that right, Max?”

To be honest I wasn’t in the mood to put Marge’s mind at ease that I liked her very much, too, thank you very much. Gran was right. I missed my human. Yeah, I know what you’re all thinking: cats don’t miss their humans. Cats are independent creatures and they don’t care if their human lives or dies and yadda yadda yadda. Well, let me tell you that’s all fake news, people. Cats get attached to their humans just as much as the next canine, or at least this particular feline does. And I was just wondering what Odelia was doing at that moment when Marge’s phone sang out the theme song from the reboot ofBeverly Hills, 90210.

“Hey, honey, have you settled in all right?” she asked.

“Ask her about the sheets,” said Gran, nudging her daughter. “And ask her about the food. Oh, and ask her if it’s true that Emerald’s skin looks like a drumhead from all those facelifts and those gallons and gallons of Botox.”

“Have you met Emerald yet?” asked Marge, ignoring her mother. “You have? Ooh, how exciting! So what is she like? Is she nice?”

And while the adults in the room prattled on, and Ben Affleck was fighting the good fight over in Europe while his best friend was hitting on his girl, I noticed for the first time that my compadres were all very quiet indeed.

“Is everything all right?” I asked, giving Brutus a slight nudge.

“Oh, Max,” was his response. It didn’t sound like he was all right at all.

I cut a glance to Harriet, who merely rolled her expressive eyes at me.

“What’s going on with him?” I mouthed.

“Don’t ask!” she mouthed back.

“What’s going on with Brutus, Max?” asked Dooley now.

“I don’t know. I asked him and he wouldn’t say.”

“Ask him if it’s menopause,” said Dooley.

“Menopause is a human thing, Dooley.”

“Oh?”

“It’s not menopause,” said Harriet. “It’s worse—much worse.”

“Worse?” asked Dooley. “What could be worse than menopause?”

“Like I said, menopause is a human thing and doesn’t—”

“Cancer!” said Dooley suddenly. “Do you have cancer, Brutus?”

Dooley has a tendency to think that whenever someone doesn’t feel A-Okay, it’s because they are suffering from cancer. Or, apparently, menopause.

“No, it’s not cancer,” said Brutus gruffly. “Though sometimes I wish it was.”

That sounded ominous. And now, of course, I was more curious than ever.

“He misses Odelia,” said Dooley knowingly. He patted Brutus on the paw. “Don’t worry, buddy,” he said loudly. “She’ll be back before you know it!”

Brutus merely grumbled something. It didn’t sound overly friendly.

So it wasn’t Odelia either. So what could it be?

“I know!” said Dooley. “Of course! How silly of me. You miss Chase, don’t you?” He patted the butch black cat on the paw again. “Don’t worry, buddy. Chase will be back before you know it. And I’m sure he misses you too.”

“I don’t miss Chase, and will you stop touching me!”

“Touchy,” Dooley muttered.

“If you have to know…” Harriet began.

“Don’t you dare,” growled Brutus.

“They’re your friends, Brutus. They have a right to know.”

“No, they don’t!”

“Brutus is having trouble with—”

“Stop talking now!”

“His inner male,” Harriet finally finished.

Dooley and I stared at the big cat. Whatever I’d expected, it wasn’t this.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” I asked.