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We were all at the hospital, waiting for news about Opal. Even Uncle Alec and Chase had arrived, and Tex, of course, to see what could be done. In truth? Not much. Opal’s fate was in the hands of the doctors now, and only they could save her, or not.

“Terrible, isn’t it?” asked Harriet.

What was especially terrible was that the pedicurist working on Harriet had only finished three paws, which now left her out of balance, at least according to her.

“How could this happen?” asked Brutus.

“Apparently Opal has a Botox allergy,” I explained, “and she had an overdose of the stuff, which caused her throat to swell up and her heart to stop.”

“That’s not good, is it, Max?” said Dooley. “A heart isn’t supposed to stop, right?”

“No, usually it’s not a good sign,” I agreed.

“I think you can die when your heart stops,” said Dooley, turning to Harriet.

“Oh, Dooley,” said Harriet, shaking her head.

“Maybe we can have her cloned,” said Prunella, who was waiting with us in the hospital corridor. “But they’ll have to hurry. They need to extract some genetic material from her before she dies and immediately start the cloning process.”

“Cloning humans is not allowed,” I said, trying to break the news to her gently.

“But why? If they can clone pets, why not humans?”

“I’m not sure,” I said, “but I just know that no human has ever been cloned. At least not to my knowledge.”

“I’m sure plenty of humans have been cloned,” said Brutus. “The Nazis, for one, were already experimenting with cloning techniques in the forties, and so were the Soviets. So I’m pretty sure cloned humans walk among us, only we don’t know it.”

“I think cloning humans should be allowed,” said Dooley suddenly. “Think about the great minds that could be preserved for posterity. Einstein, Marie Curie, Bell…”

“It’s not the Einsteins of this world that will be cloned, though,” I said. “Most probably they’ll clone football stars and celebrities instead.”

“But the world needs geniuses,” said Dooley. “We’ve already got plenty of football stars.”

“There’s one human who’s a clone for sure,” said Prunella. “And that’s Tom Hanks. No celebrity can be that nice.”

“Oh, I think Tom Hanks really is that nice,” I said.

Just then, a doctor came hurrying over, and all the humans got up from their plastic chairs.

“Family of Opal Harvey?” he asked.

“I’m her partner,” said Harlan gravely.

“Your wife is in stable condition, Mr. Harvey. She will live.”

“Oh, thank the Lord,” said Harlan, raising his eyes heavenward.

“Was it the Botox, doctor?” asked Marilyn.

“Yes, it was. A severe allergic reaction. Her heart stopped for a moment, but we managed to bring her back.”

“When can we see her?” asked Harlan.

“Not just yet. She’s not fully awake. But I’ll let you know as soon as she’s in her room.”

The doctor excused himself, and Harlan suddenly started crying.

“Why is he crying?” asked Dooley. “Isn’t it good news that Opal will live?”

“Sometimes humans cry when they hear good news, too,” I said.

“Weird,” was Dooley’s determination.

“They’re happy tears,” Harriet confirmed. “Look at his face. He’s smiling.”

“No, he’s not,” said Brutus. “The corners of his mouth are pointing down.”

“He’s happy, I’m telling you. Those are happy tears.”

“Then why does he look sad?”

“Oh, Brutus.”

And as my fellow cats argued back and forth about the tough task of interpreting human emotion, I tripped over to where Odelia had taken a seat again.

“Tough day, huh, Max?” she said.

“Yeah, tell me about it,” I said. “I just found out I wasn’t cloned, and I was so looking forward to meeting my original self, too.”

She glanced over, and I gave her an exaggerated smile.“Irony. Very funny, Max.”

“So what happened, exactly?”

“Well, apparently there was a mix-up at the salon and Opal, in spite of her strict instructions not to get Botox, got her second dose in a week, which almost proved lethal.”

“But how could such a mix-up happen?”

Odelia looked over to Harlan, who was now being comforted by Marilyn, and lowered her voice.“Someone phoned the salon, and said Opal wanted to have the full Botox treatment today. They were pretty adamant, too.”

“They phoned the salon? But who?”

“All I know is that it was a woman’s voice.”

“A woman’s voice. That must be our culprit.”

“Opal really should get the police involved this time. They can track phones and find out where that call was coming from.”

“If her assailant is clever they’ll have used a burner phone,” I pointed out.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. Still, the police have the kind of resources we don’t.”

“You’ll figure it out,” I said, having complete faith in my human. Well, except when I practically accused her of having me cloned and neglecting to tell me about it, of course.

“I’m not so sure, Max,” she said, sounding and looking a little downhearted. “Opal almost got killed on my watch twice now. I think the moment she regains consciousness and hears about what happened, she’s going to put us on the first flight home.”