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“Oh, sweetie pie,” said Harriet, her voice suddenly a purr. “Nowthat’s the kind of stuff your budding model likes to hear. You don’t think I’m too fat, do you?”

“Not too fat,” said Brutus quickly. “Slim like a reed swaying in the breeze.”

“Mh,” said Harriet. Clearly this particular simile wasn’t as apt as the others.

“What’s all this about a budding model?” I asked. I might have been napping, but that didn’t mean my brain had been fully switched off.

Harriet preened a little.“Guess who’s been selected to feature on the cover of next month’sCat Life?”

“Fifi?” Dooley suggested, referring to our canine neighbor.

“CAT Life, Dooley,” Harriet snapped. “NotDog Life.”

Dooley thought hard, then finally brightened.“Shanille?”

“No, not Shanille!” Harriet cried. “Me, Dooley, me!”

“You?” asked Dooley, and his surprise was so palpable it took the bloom off the rose of Harriet’s excitement, for she directed a dark frown at my friend. Dooley, being Dooley, hardly noticed. “But why you?” he insisted. “You’re not a model.”

“Well, I’m a model now, so you better get used to it,” she said. “And incidentally, you’ve all been recruited as members of my team.”

“And what team is that?” asked Dooley innocently.

“Team Harriet, what else?” she snapped, her patience wearing thin.

“I didn’t know you played football,” said Dooley, interested.

“Oh, Dooley,” Harriet sighed, then turned to me. “I want you to be my spotter, Max.”

“Your what?” I asked, stifling a yawn.

“Spotter. You’re going to keep a close eye on me and tell me if anything is off.”

I stared at her. I could see a lot that was off, but didn’t know if it was a good idea to tell her. Her lack of respect for a person’s nap time, for one thing.

Brutus, who could see I was struggling with the concept, now piped up,“A person changes from day to day, Max. And the weird thing is that you don’t always notice such changes yourself. So it’s up to others to draw your attention to them.”

“And what changes would this be?” I asked carefully.

“The luster of my coat, for one thing,” said Harriet, holding out a paw. “Or the absence of spots on my nose, for another.”

“So Max has to spot your spots?” asked Dooley, trying valiantly to keep up.

“Yes, Dooley,” said Harriet with an expressive eyeroll. “Max has to spot my spots.”

“And me?” asked Dooley, who seemed to like this new game. “What do you want me to do?”

Harriet gave him a look of such disdain it would have frozen a lesser cat dead on the spot. But not Dooley, who was genuinely excited about the prospect of becoming something big on Team Harriet, whatever it was.

“You can watch my diet,” she said after a moment’s reflection. “Make sure I don’t eat anything fattening, or generally designed to disagree with me.”

“So you want me to chew your food for you?” asked Dooley, puzzled.

“Eww, Dooley! I do not want you to chew my food for me! All I’m asking—and if it’s too much to ask, just tell me—is that you keep an eye on my caloric intake.”

“Your colic…”

“Caloric.”

“Um…”

“Just make sure she doesn’t eat junk food,” Brutus clarified.

Dooley gave me a look of surprise. If ever there was a cat who doesn’t allow anyone to come between her and a nice bowl of junk food, it was Harriet. The more additives and colorants and artificial flavoring her wet food contains, the better she likes it. Then again, I guess all cats love the tasty stuff. I know I do. But that doesn’t mean I’d attack the person denying it to me with tooth and claw.

“Okay,” said Dooley finally, but I could tell that his excitement had waned.

“So Max,” said Harriet, “first thing every morning, I want a status report.”

“Gotcha,” I said.

“And Dooley, you make sure I stick to a healthy and nutritious diet.”

“Oh, all right,” my friend murmured.

“And me?” asked Brutus. “What do you want me to do, honey blossom?”

Harriet offered her mate a bright smile.“You are my motivation coach, sugar plum. You make sure my energy levels are at an all-time high, all the time. Make sure I’m happy, happy, happy, and keep anything that might upset me away from me. Because we all know that what really matters isn’t what’s down here,” she said, making a circular motion encompassing her face, but what’s up here.” She tapped her noggin. “It’s all about the psychology, baby!”

“Yes, baby!” Brutus echoed, but judging from the look of anguish that I could read in his eyes, his own psychology was in need of a high-energy boost, too!

CHAPTER 4

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Harriet had finally left, summoning Dooley to join her in the kitchen so they could go over her dietary plan for the next couple of days—until the photoshoot that would immortalize her as a cover model for the iconic magazineCat Life. Brutus turned to me with a distraught sort of look in his eyes.“Tell me the truth, Max. This is pretty much a mission impossible, isn’t it?”

“What is?” I asked, fluffing up that nice new comforter. It had to be said: Chase has great taste when it comes to selecting bedding. I liked the man’s style.

“Making sure nothing upsets Harriet,” he said.