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“Oh, I think she will keep her scholarship, and in fact I think pretty soon Dave will ask her to join his Tollie empire, and that’s when we should strike. That’s the time to suggest that instead of his awfully tedious Tollie cartoons, he should launch Harriet the Cat instead. With Jayme Ziccardi as his lead artist. Out with the old—in with the new!”

And with a smile that brooked no contest, she set off to join Gran and Scarlett, who I’d seen convening nearby, to offer them the benefit of her latest brainwave.

“Brutus!” she yelled when her mate didn’t immediately make to follow. “Come!”

Brutus gave me a sad look of resignation, started to say something, then thought better of it, heaved a hopeless sigh, and trudged off in the wake of his lady love.“Coming, monkey doodle,” he said, and then they were both off.

“Do you think Harriet the Cat will be as big a success as Tollie the Turtle, Max?” asked Dooley.

“I very much doubt it, Dooley,” I said.

“But people like cats more than turtles, don’t they?”

“They may like cats more than turtles, but Tollie the Turtle is an institution, Dooley. An icon and a popular brand that has endured for over half a century. You don’t simply tell its creator to ditch it and replace it with a cat cartoon.” Darn. Now I was saying it myself! “I mean, comic strip,” I quickly corrected myself.

“Harriet the Cat doesn’t have the same ring to it as Tollie the Turtle,” Dooley admitted.

“No, it sure hasn’t,” I agreed.

“Like trying to replace Coca-Cola with a store brand. It probably wouldn’t go over well with Coca-Cola fans.”

“Of which there are probably millions upon millions.”

It looked as if Harriet was in for a big disappointment. Then again, when aspiring to fame and fortune, one must be prepared for any number of setbacks and hurdles. And somehow I had a feeling Harriet was ready, willing and able to overcome those setbacks and climb those hurdles. Only problem was: she expected us to join her in her efforts.

At any rate, our main task right now was to make sure Jayme Ziccardi’s future was safe and secure, and somehow I had a feeling things were looking really good on that front. Odelia had certainly done all she could, and now everything depended on Dave James.

Chapter 5

Tex Poole was in a good mood. Now his mood generally was good, as he was a man who considered the glass half full and not half empty. But he always looked particularly forward to paying a visit to Dave James, one of his favorite patients. A doctor can’t play favorites, of course, just like a parent can’t have a favorite child, but human nature being what it is, he did have patients he enjoyed visiting more than others, and Dave certainly was in his personal top ten, and very near the top, too.

The man had a certain joie de vivre that was infectious, and he poured this zest for life into the comic strip he had created and which Tex faithfully read every single morning, and had for his entire life. It wasn’t too much to say that Tollie the Turtle was one of those fixtures in a life where many things aren’t all that reliable. When politicians lie and cheat, and sports heroes are caught with their hands in the doping jar, Tollie the Turtle was one of those wholesome and fundamentally good things that had stood the test of time and had endured, providing as much joy and entertainment now as it did fifty years ago, when Dave had hit upon the simple yet brilliant idea of featuring a wise old turtle as his hero.

And so it was with a smile on his face and an uplifted mood that the doctor parked his car in Dave’s driveway and got out, doctor’s bag in hand and prepared to talk cholesterol.

Tollie the Turtle might be immortal, but unfortunately this could not be said for his creator, who was suffering from many of the ailments associated with his age. Luckily the man’s spirit was positive and strong, and with the proper treatment Tex had every reason to believe the man could live to be a hundred.

Tex entered Dave’s sizable mansion, built from the success of his artistic endeavors, and yelled, “Dave?”

Contrary to popular belief Dave didn’t believe in surrounding himself with dozens of bodyguards, or erecting a high-tech security perimeter around his house. “The day I need to hire a security guard,” he’d once told Tex, “is the day I stop living.” He still rode into town on a regular basis, bought his groceries at the local supermarket, and could often be seen in the bar drinking with the locals and shooting the breeze. In fact he got a lot of the inspiration for his comics from his interaction with the townsfolk, and the many situations they encountered, sometimes humorous, sometimes not so much, but all the samegrist for that great creative mill.

“Dave!” Tex called out again.

Odd, he thought. Usually Dave greeted him at the door when he dropped by for these weekly checkups, a big smile on his face and immediately ushering him into his private studio to show him some of his latest work, knowing that Tex was a big fan.