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She must have realized things weren’t going well, for suddenly she broke off prematurely, and hurriedly left the stage, Brutus still blowing raspberries, as if he’d forgotten where his off-switch was located. Finally he realized he was alone on stage, grinned nervously, and skipped into the wings like a foal on its first foray into the field.

For a moment, all was silent, but then the room plunged into confused talk and chattering. The Mayor looked embarrassed, and the Weskits sat stony-faced. They’d probably anticipated something dignified. With standing. Something along the lines of theAmerican Music Awardsor theGrammy’s. They gotAmerica’s Got Talent instead.

Chapter 21

Behind us, Odelia had materialized. Whether she was shocked or enchanted by the performance of her grandmother and Harriet was impossible to deduce from her expression. She had a sparkle in her eye, though. The sparkle of a reporter who’s just picked up the scent of a great story. To us she merely whispered, “Go, go, go!”

And so go we went.

Odelia had opened a door that led to the hotel’s backstairs and we quickly made our way up until we’d reached the fourth floor. I took a moment to catch my breath, and to our elation we found the door easily yielding to pressure and the hallway empty.

“This is going well, Dooley,” I commented as I looked up and down the hallway. “I don’t think anyone saw us.”

“But what about Harriet and Brutus?” he asked. “Weren’t they supposed to join us?”

“I think they’re probably still recovering from their performance.”

“They didn’t do very well, did they, Max?”

“No, I think it’s safe to say that they didn’t.”

“Probably nerves.”

“’Yeah, it’s a different thing to sing in front of cats than a room full of humans.”

We were traipsing along the hallway, looking left and right as we went, and making sure we weren’t caught. The hallway was easily as nice as the ballroom. Gilded sconces along the walls, gorgeous velvety wallpaper, that nice thick red carpet. Everything for the hotel’s VIP guests. Dooley was announcing the room numbers out loud, both proving he could count and making sure we didn’t skippast our destination, and finally we’d reached the Weskits’ room. I glanced up at the door handle, which was way higher than I’d anticipated, and sighed.

“I don’t know about you, Dooley, but I can’t possibly jump that high.”

“Do you want me to give it a try?” And without waiting for my response, he performed a nice standing high jump. He reached about halfway to the handle, which was outfitted with one of those panels you hold your badge against for easy access.

“Close but no cigar,” I told him encouragingly.

“That’s all right,” he said. “I don’t smoke.” He made a second attempt, but reached even less high than before. Cats are great jumpers, but we’re not rabbits or kangaroos.

I listened carefully for that telltale clicking sound that indicates the badge has done what it’s supposed to do but no luck so far. No clicking sound and no access for us.

“Can’t you hover in the air a little longer?” I asked. “I think the little gizmo needs time to figure out a badge is near. And try to hold up the badge. Hold it as high as you can.”

So Dooley kept on jumping, trying to hold up the badge with his paws. If the selection committee for the Olympic Games had seen him, they’d definitely have given him points for effort. Unfortunately even cats as fit and healthy as Dooley reach the end of their tether, and as Dooley sat on the floor, panting heavily, the door was still as closed as ever.

And as Dooley got some air into his lungs, I spotted a cart at the end of the hallway. It was one of those carts used by room service people, and I could spot a couple of empty glasses on top of it, as well as a bucket with a champagne bottle peeping out at the top.“Maybe we could roll that cart over here and jump on top of it?” I now suggested.

“Good… (pant pant) idea… (pant pant) Max. Let’s… (pant pant) give… (pant pant) it… (pant pant) a shot (closing pant).”

So we gamboled along the corridor—that is to say, I gamboled and Dooley dragged his weary body along as fast as he could—and when we reached the cart I saw that, indeed, it was equipped with nifty little wheels. So we both pushed, and soon the cart was rolling along nicely at a brisk pace. Unfortunately I think we must have put a little too much push into the thing, or maybe the carpet wasn’t as thick and plush as I’d anticipated, for we overshot the room and still the cart kept on zipping along. It proceeded to pick up speed, until it slammed against the wall at the end. For a moment, bucket and glasses waggled precariously, then, like lemmings, collectively made the jump. The first glass was fine, but when the second one fell on top of it, it gave up the fight and broke, and so did the third, and the fourth, and when the bucket tipped over and dropped down on top of all of them, it crushed what remained of the glassware.

“I’m not going near that,” announced Dooley.