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So Dooley and I jumped down from the swing and stood in front of the kitchen door and applied our front paws to it, scratching until someone inside heard us and decided to open the door. When finally they did and Marge appeared, Dooley said,“I could have gone in through the pet flap and told Marge to open the door, couldn’t I, Max?”

“That’s right, you could have,” I agreed. And it just goes to show how famished we both were that a simple idea like that hadn’t even occurred to either of us.

We both moved in the direction of our bowls and moments later we were tucking in. You may wonder why cats need a double set of bowls, over there in Marge’s house and at Odelia’s, but then my answer would be, of course we need double bowls. The same way humans like to go out to restaurants or the diner or a snack bar or order Chinese, we like to source our food from as many places as felinely possible. And can you blame us?

“Could you tell Odelia to open the sliding glass door, Marge?” I asked.

“Oh, honey, I don’t know when she’ll be home. She’s on a case, and you know what she’s like. She might be gone all night. Can’t you go through the pet flap?”

“No,” I said, though I wasn’t prepared to elaborate.

“Max doesn’t fit through the pet flap,” said Dooley, who doesn’t mind elaborating on my behalf, even though I hadn’t even signed him a power of attorney or anything.

“You can’t fit through the pet flap?” asked Marge with a frown. “Let’s see. Try to go through now, Max. Yes, just give it a go… Oh, dear.”

Following her instructions, I’d gotten stuck again, of course, much to my embarrassment. Marge made short shrift of my predicament by shoving me through, and then she opened the door for me again so I could return indoors.

She studied me for a moment with a critical eye.“Did Odelia put you on that diet she mentioned?”

“Um…” I said, stalling for time.

“She forgot,” said Dooley. “After Vena told us about the diet you guys all went vegetarian, and then you all turned carnivore again, and the diet thing fell off the radar.”

Marge smiled.“Good summary, Dooley. I see the whole picture now.”

“Thanks, Marge,” said Dooley, pleased as punch.

“And about that diet, I think you need to go on it again, Max. If you don’t even fit through the pet door…”

“Isn’t it possible that the pet flap shrank?” I said. “Heat expands wood, but cold makes it contract, right? So isn’t it possible that even though I lost weight that the pet door simply shrank in size?”

“I doubt it,” said Marge. “The pet flap is made of plastic, and plastic doesn’t expand or contract as much as wood does. No, I’m afraid there’s only one solution for you, Max. Lose weight, or otherwise spend your nights outside, and return inside in the morning.”

I shivered at the quaint notion.“Spend my nights outside? But the nights are getting colder, Marge. And you know what I think about the cold. I don’t like it.”

“So slim down a little, and fit right through that door again.” She crouched down next to me. “See, Max, that pet flap is your weight control tool. As long as you fit through there, your weight is fine. When you don’t fit anymore, it’s time to slim down. See how easy it is? Fit? Fine. Don’t fit? Time to go on a diet.”

“Uh-huh,” I said, not fully convinced. “I still think the trouble is the door, not me.”

“Well, then you won’t mind sleeping outside from now on,” she said, getting up.

Humans. Not an ounce of compassion with a pet-flap-challenged cat.

“So what happened to Harriet and Brutus?” asked Marge as she picked up a bucket of water and placed it on the drain board.

“Next door, probably,” I said as I watched her wash her hands.

It’s a habit that frankly annoys me: each time my humans touch me, they wash their hands. Now why is that, I wonder? Am I as dirty as all that? I don’t think so. In fact I think my grooming capacity is far superior to any human’s. And stillthey washtheir hands after they touchme. Weird, right? And so I immediately started grooming myself. After all, she had touched me, with those dirty pre-washed hands. And as I sat there, carefully removing every hint of human scent from my precious fur, Gran stalked in.“Can you please tell that husband of yours to remove his head from his ass?” she asked.

“Oh, help,” said Dooley, wide-eyed. “We need a doctor!”

“Tex is a doctor, Dooley,” I reminded him.

“But Tex has his head stuck! He needs a second doctor to remove it!”

I craned my neck to see this medical miracle. How does a human manage to get their head stuck in such an awkward position? But when Tex walked in he looked fine. His head was a little red, but not stuck anywhere, and definitely not up his own bottom.

“It’s a miracle!” Dooley cried. “A medical miracle!”

“What is it now?” asked Marge, not all that excited about this miracle.

“Your husband objects tomy plans to keep this family safe from harm!” Gran said.

“Of course I do!” Tex cried, his head reddening even more. “Has she told you about her crazy plan?”