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“Why don’t humans simply lick themselves clean, Max?” asked Dooley when Odelia came hurrying out of the bathroom, her wet hair wrapped in a towel on top of her head, and went in search of some necessary undergarments.

“I don’t think they’re quite limber enough to reach every part of their anatomy,” I said, having given this matter some serious thought in the past. “And also, they don’t have the patience to apply their tongues to so much acreage.”

Humans are busy people, you see, always rushing off somewhere and trying to squeeze as much activity into every single minute of every single day as humanly possible. They lack the patience to spend hours grooming themselves, like cats do.

Ordinarily Dooley and I ride with Odelia to work and spend the day in her office, or out and about interviewing people, and sometimes even solving the odd mystery. Today was going to be different, though, as Odelia explained to us once Grace had been fed and dressed and ready to go to the daycare center.

“I have an important matter to discuss with you guys,” she announced, taking a seat on the bed next to us.

“You’re not going to get a divorce, are you?” Dooley asked anxiously.

“Now why would I get a divorce?” said Odelia with a puzzled smile.

“Because Chase accidentally sent your love letters to all the neighbors, and now you’re madder than a wet hen and you’re not going to speak to him again?”

There had been a slight contretemps in the Poole household, when Tex had put his old love letters to his wife out for trash collection. Instead of a trashman, though, a troop of girl scouts had discovered the letters, and now the entire neighborhood was privy to Tex’s private thoughts in re his erstwhile affections toward his future wife. Suffice it to say Marge was not amused.

“Writing letters is not exactly the done thing anymore, Dooley,” said Odelia. “In fact Chase never wrote me any love letters at all. Whatever he had to say to me, he said in person.”

What she didn’t mention was that Chase is not exactly the type of person who carries his heart on his sleeve. Or writes love letters. So when I picture their courtship, I can’t imagine it consisted of more than a few lusty looks and grunts of appreciation from Chase’s side. We may be living in the age of the modern man, who cries when he cuts himself peeling a potato, but Chase is more akin to the man of yore, back when men were men and the dinosaurs still walked the earth.

“Okay, so Gran has asked me to loan you to her for an important mission and after careful consideration I’ve decided to say yes.” She paused, so we could absorb this message, then continued, “The mission has to do with her Dear Gabi column, and you’ll act as her eyes and ears throughout. Think you can do that?”

“Oh, absolutely,” I said, and would have asked her about a million questions about this ‘important mission,’ but unfortunately this was all the time she had.

“Gran will pick you up around… now,” she said, checking her watch, and just as she spoke these words, Gran’s voice sounded from downstairs.

“Are you guys ready!” the old lady bellowed. “Cause I am!”

And so our unusual adventure began. Why Gran hadn’t selected Harriet and Brutus to assist her in this important task was beyond me. Perhaps she felt that Harriet was so busy getting ready for her photoshoot that she wouldn’t be able to focus on the job at hand. Whatever the reason, moments later we were riding in the car with Gran and Scarlett, and our destination was: Advantage Publishing.

“We’ve been selected as Advantage Publishing’s first-ever senior interns,” Scarlett announced proudly. “It’s going to be a blast!”

“How much are they paying you?” asked Dooley.

“They’re not paying us anything,” said Gran. “We’re interns, and interns work for free.”

“We do get a free subscription toGlimmer,” said Scarlett. “And free coffee.”

“So you’re going to work for these people and not get paid?” I asked, trying to get to the bottom of this strange conceit.

“We’re doing this for the good of our readers,” said Gran. “Giving something back to our loyal audience.”

“And also, Dan is paying us for our time,” said Scarlett.

“Yeah, there’s that,” Gran admitted.

Advantage Publishing was housed in a new building in a semi-industrial zone that houses many such buildings and companies. It all looked very snazzy and ultra-modern, just as you would expect from the publisher ofGlimmer andGlitter, but also ofFish& Tackle, the amateur fisherman’s friend, and of course Cat Life, coincidentally the magazine that had selected Harriet as its cover model.

Upon arrival, Gran and Scarlett received a pair of neat badges, but when it came time to announce myself and Dooley, it appeared some wires had gotten crossed. The receptionist stared down at us, then up at Gran, then stared at us some more.“But… pets are not allowed in the building,” she explained.

“These are not pets,” said Gran. “These are emotional support animals.”

“Yeah, we need them,” said Scarlett. “For emotional support,” she added.