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“No, live ones,” said Odelia. “And more specifically, they’re going to paint you guys.”

“But I don’t want to be painted,” Brutus lamented. “Paint is bad for the skin, and it’s toxic when ingested.”

“They’re not going to actually paint you, Brutus,” said Odelia. “They’re going to create a paintingof you.”

“Oh,” said Brutus. “Well, I guess that’s all right, then.”

“Of course it’s all right. And this time my dad is even going to join in the fun. And all you have to do is sit still for a couple of hours and pose.”

We all gulped.“Sit still for a couple of hours?” I asked weakly. “But how?”

“I can’t sit still for hours,” said Harriet. “I have to go for a tinkle, have a bite to eat…” She shook her head decidedly. “I’m sorry, Odelia. But no can do. You’ll just have to find yourself a different cat model. Or better yet, a stuffed one.”

Odelia thought for a moment, then said,“Or you could simply take a long nap while we paint you.”

“Now you’re talking,” I said.

“Don’t say yes, Max,” said Harriet. “It’s probably a trick. I mean, what’s so interesting about a sleeping cat?”

“You’d be surprised,” said Odelia. “Watching a cat sleep is very soothing, and soothing is all the rage right now.”

She was right. After Tex’s whole semi-nude posing business, we all needed something soothing. Tex had proved a big hit at Charlene’s upcoming art show, but in the end the town council had decided to go in a different direction. I guess they didn’t want to scare off the tourists. So now the theme was pets. And you have to admit: who doesn’t like a pet? And so many possibilities offered themselves: some people keep pet turtles, others keep pet rabbits, chickens, hamsters, parrots… Though of course the absolute king of pets is still Felis catus.

“Here,” said Odelia, taking out her phone. “We’ve already started making some preliminary sketches. I’ve done Max.” A very smart-looking blorange specimen appeared, and I nodded approvingly. “Mom did Dooley.” A nice gray fluffball, nicely rendered. “Chase did Brutus.”

“Very nice,” Brutus murmured.

He looked like a cross between Rambo and Terminator, only the feline version.

“And finally Gran did Harriet.”

A sort of ratty growth appeared on her phone’s screen. We all recoiled in horror.

“But… I look like the stuff you fish out of the shower drain!” Harriet cried.

“Are you showing them my drawing, Odelia?” asked Gran happily. “What do you think? Pretty hot stuff, huh?”

But Harriet didn’t approve. Instead, she drew herself up to her full height, and cried, “I’ve had it with you people! First you kidnap me, then you put me to work as an art slave, then you cover me in toxic paint and threaten to stuff me, and now you turn me into this disgusting shower hairball! Well, you can all get stuffed!”

And with these immortal words, she stalked off, head high, tail even higher.

Gran watched her leave, and shrugged.“Oh, well. I guess everyone’s a critic.”

53. PURRFECT SLUG

CHAPTER 1

As it happens, a dark cloud had descended upon my hometown. And to think that the day had started out so sunny and bright. But then of course I’m not a fortune teller, so it’s always hard for me to know what is going to take place in the near or distant future. All I know is that I woke up experiencing a certain malaise, which is not my custom. And then of course Grace, our human’s little girl, discovered that cats have tails, and decided that pulling those tails provides a limitless source of joy, and so she’d been chasing my tail for the best part of the morning. Each time I thought I was safe, and had shaken off the infernal infant, there she was, giggling and gibbering, as human infants are in the habit of doing, and making a dive for my tail, giving it a forceful yank the moment she managed to take hold of the sensitive appendage. Not a pleasant way to pass the morning!

“Why does she keep doing this!” Dooley cried, since he, too, had become a victim of Grace’s latest game. So much so that we’d taken cover in the backyard, hiding behind the rose bushes, where Grace had yet to root us out.

“She seems to derive a certain pleasure from the process,” I said as I nervously scanned the horizon, just in case our newfound nemesis staged a comeback.

“But why? What’s so funny about pulling a cat’s tail?”

“I’m not sure,” I said, “but it seems there is something inherently fascinating about a tail that appeals to the youthful zeal these infants possess in spades.”

It was one more aspect of cohabiting with a human infant that we hadn’t taken into account on that fateful day when Odelia had announced that soon two would become three, and that our home was to be blessed with Kingsley offspring.