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But she’d already pressed that big handy red button that meant that whoever was blabbering into her ear could be shut down instantly.

It had taken Gran a while to get used to smartphones but now that she had she never wanted to go back to the day of the rotary dial phone. Besides, she could check the Internet on this phone as well as play video games and call and annoy her friends in one handy device and how cool was that, right?

She swung her feet to the floor, slipped them into her favorite pair of velvety burgundy slippers and stretched. The day was breaking and the sun was already wide awake. So she padded down the stairs, in search of Max and Dooley and the others, so she could give them the good news: they were going on an adventure. One that involved dead Hollywood actresses and cyanide, which was always a fun change from having to take calls from sick people who wanted an appointment with Tex. It was all fine and dandy to be a doctor’s receptionist but a girl wants some action from time to time, and this suicide provided just that.

As she arrived downstairs, she saw to her surprise that the four bowls, lined up neatly on the kitchen floor, hadn’t been touched. None of them, and the water bowls hadn’t been drunk from either.

“What the hell…”

Tex, who came downstairs yawning, white hair standing up on one side of his head and sporting sleep wrinkles on his cheek, muttered,“Morning, Vesta.”

“Have you seen the cats?” she asked.

“Cats?” said Tex, as if the concept was a novel one.

“Yeah, the cats. They haven’t touched their food and they weren’t there when I woke up.”

He thought for a moment, trying to wrench his mind to a topic he clearly was reluctant to broach. Finally, he shook his head.“Probably outside. Don’t they go to the park at night or something?”

“Yeah, but they should have been back by now. They go to the park at dusk, spend a couple hours there, before hurrying back for a midnight snack and then settling in at the foot of the bed. Max at Odelia’s, Dooley alternating between Odelia’s and mine, and Brutus and Harriet usually taking upspace in your bed.” She pointed a bony finger in her son-in-law’s direction, practically accusing him of doing away with her cats.

“I didn’t see them,” he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Have you asked Marge?”

“Oh, don’t you worry about Marge—I will ask her. In fact I’ll ask her right now. We have a duty of care towards those cats, Tex, and if Odelia finds out they’ve all gone missing, there will be hell to pay.”

Tex didn’t seem overly concerned. “They’re cats,” he said. “Who knows what they’re up to?” And he went in search of the coffeemaker, which was right in front of his nose.

Gran went back upstairs and blew into her daughter’s room. Marge was still asleep, and when Gran searched around, she found no cats in evidence there, either.

“Where are my cats?!” Gran hollered, and Marge practically flew to the ceiling.

“Who died?!” she cried.

“The cats are gone,” said Gran, narrowing her eyes at her daughter. “What did you do to them?”

“I didn’t do anything to them! Aren’t they in your room?”

“No, they’re not, and they haven’t touched their food. They’re gone, Marge.”

Marge gulped and brought a distraught hand to her throat.“Maybe they’re next door?”

“We closed up the house, remember? Even the pet flap?”

Marge nodded. Unlike Tex she knew the ins and outs of their small flock of cats better than anyone, and knew this was highly unusual behavior indeed. Just then, Gran’s phone rang again and she took it out of the pocket of her dressing gown. “What do you want?” she snapped.

“I just remembered something,” said Odelia, for it was her. “You called me in the middle of the night, remember? Something about the cats wanting to know why they were snipped?”

Gran frowned as she threw her mind back. She hated to admit it, but it wasn’t as sharp a tool as it once had been. “Oh, that’s right,” she said now. “They were pretty pissed off, too. Accused you of violating their feline rights or something.”

“Could it be that they ran away, just to teach us a lesson?”

“Could be,” Gran admitted. “In which case this is your fault. Not mine.” It was never too soon to start building a defense strategy, just in case her granddaughter accused her of neglect. “I didn’t do this,” she added, so there could be no misunderstanding. “You did, with your unconscionable behavior.”

“Everybody neuters their cats! It’s the law.”

“Who cares about the law? You should never have gone ahead and done it without their express consent in writing—in triplicate, preferably witnessed by the mayorand the governor. What if they sue? Have you thought about that?”

“Just get them back, will you? And tell them we did it for their own good.”

“Fat lot of good that’s going to do you now,” Gran grumbled.

She disconnected again and started for the door.

“Wait—what’s going on?” asked Marge.

“The cats are pissed off because they were neutralized,” said Gran.

“Neutralized? Oh, you mean neutered.”