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“No, thank you very much,” said Harriet. “I don’t want to be abducted by those same birds that almost killed you guys.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s true,” said Dooley thoughtfully. Then his face cleared. “So maybe Odelia could put us all on leashes. Just like Salvatore.”

“Who’s Salvatore?” asked Brutus with a frown.

“You remember,” I said. “The teacup Maltese we met.”

“Oh, right,” said Brutus, already losing interest. Even though in a recent episode he’d fashioned himself to be a newly-born dog, he put that experience behind him, and had fully embraced his inner cat once more—those dog days nothing but a distant memory.

“Look, we have to go, you guys,” said Harriet. “Gran is shooting a video, and she told us she needs us.”

“Video?” I asked. “What video?”

“One of her new influencer videos.” She smiled. “You’re not the only ones who have started a career as influencers,” she said. “Looks like Brutus and I are going to be famous, too.”

And before we could ask her more about this influencer business, she signed off.

21

It took me a while to gather the courage to step out onto that balcony again. I kept seeing Frank and Jack swooping in and grabbing first Dooley, then me. But I figured one cannot live one’s life in fear, and so finally I screwed my courage to the sticking point—after first having taken on board a few extra ounces of kibble just to make sure—and put one dainty paw onto that balcony. I ducked my head out, then just as quickly retracted it.

So far so good: no seagulls in sight!

Then I placed my second paw out, and finally the rest of my blorange corpus followed suit. Just to be on the safe side, though, I hurried over to one of the two deck chairs, and disappeared underneath. Better safe than sorry!

And as I did, I caught a glimpse of our neighbor’s balcony, and for a brief moment I thought I saw movement.

I glanced over, wondering if Bertha had left Salvatore at home on this fine day, but saw no sign of the minuscule Maltese. All I saw were footprints—not paw prints. Probably someone had recently taken a shower.

And as I lay there, enjoying the day’s warmth, Dooley soon joined me. He, too, first ducked his head out, taking a quick glance at the azure skies above, before venturing further into the unknown.

“It’s all right, Dooley,” I said. “They’re not here.”

“I know, but birds can fly, Max, and they can fly fast. One moment they’re not there, the next they are!”

“Just lie underneath that deck chair. That way they can’t get at you.”

My friend did as I suggested, and soon we were both enjoying the leisurely calm.

“I wanted to thank you again, Max,” he said. “You really did a most heroic thing.”

“All I did was jump in the water, Dooley,” I said. “Nothing heroic about that.”

“It was very high.”

“It was,” I admitted.

“People have been known to break their bones when jumping from that altitude.”

I gulped a little at this.“You don’t say.” And me with my heavy bones.

“But since cats are much lighter than humans, we don’t fall down with the same velocity they do, so when we hit the water, it doesn’t feel like we’re hitting concrete.”

“Concrete,” I muttered, and gulped again. Dooley’s imagery was really doing a number on me.

“I wonder where those birds were taking us,” he continued ruminating on our recent ordeal. “Probably to their nest. Did you know that birds sometimes let their prey fall from a great height? It completely breaks up—”

“Dooley, please,” I said, starting to feel a little nauseous. “I just ate.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Max. It’s just that I wanted to point out how lucky we were.”

“I know.”

He was silent for a few beats, then said,“You’re my best friend, Max.”

“Uh-huh,” I said, still trying to keep down my lunch. “Oh,” I said, his words finally registering. “You’re my best friend, too, Dooley.”

“It’s good to have friends,” he said, then abruptly segued into a completely different topic: “Poor Salvatore.”

“Poor Salvatore? Why?”

“Well, he’s all alone, Max. He doesn’t have friends like we do.”

“He has his humans.”

“That’s not the same. Besides, he can’t talk to his humans like we can.”

“I think Salvatore is fine, Dooley. Dogs are different. They are happy to be with their humans.”

“Everybody needs a friend, Max,” said my friend sternly. “And so I’m going to ask Odelia to tell Bertha to get a second dog to keep Salvatore company.”

“Did you ask Salvatore if that’s what he wants?”

“No, I didn’t. This is going to be a surprise for him.”

“And what if he doesn’t want to have a friend? Maybe he’s happy the way things are.”

“You think so?”

“Absolutely.”

Once more he was quiet, presumably thinking about Salvatore and his lack of friends.“We could tell Bertha to take a parakeet,” he said.

“What?” I said, for I’d just fallen into a very pleasant light slumber.

“A parakeet.”

“Why would Salvatore want a parakeet for a friend?”

“I don’t know. But a feathered friend is always nice, don’t you think?”