Cat In An Alien X-Ray

I have already conceded much in her behalf. There is eating the occasional putrid pellet of Free-to-Be-Feline health food for sissy cats. There is ceding one-quarter of the zebra-pattern comforter to offensive recreational activities of a personal nature that force me to decamp in the middle of the night. There is even occasionally using the disgusting plastic tray of grit she keeps in the second bathroom.

Despite my sacrifices, I am always ready to act as an impromptu bodyguard.

She uses the Wynn’s off-Strip entrance, which avoids the endless lobby and casino areas. I have no trouble darting from one handy place of concealment to another while following her through the tourist throngs.

People in Las Vegas rarely look down, unless it is to puke, which is why the carpeting is always a busy multicolored design for long wear.

Nowadays, the upscale places are all marble floors, which clean up more easily but echo like crazy. “Stealth” is my middle name, so I make sure I am not seen and certainly am not heard in my velvet footpad mode.

Not so with Miss Temple, whose smart high heels add to the echo. She can trot faster than a Pomeranian on those spikes. I do not know how she does it and am all admiration. I certainly could not move so fast in any direction but up with my shivs out.

When she trots all the way through the casino areas to the Terrace Pointe Café, I am stymied. All the Wynn restaurants feature an indoor-outdoor ambience. I certainly approve because I am definitely an inside-outside kind of guy.

Still, the Terrace Pointe Café forsakes any tinge of Vegas casino shadowy décor. Simply put, the light and airy spaces mean my entrance would be like an inkblot trying to pass as Wite-Out on a piece of snowy bond paper.

Manx! I must glimpse what Pied Piper has drawn my Miss Temple from our cozy nest at the Circle Ritz. With Kathleen O’Connor lurking around the home front now that Mr. Max is back in town, I am super suspicious of all new contacts these days.

I could make out like a bandit with the hotel family buffet droppings just kiddie-corner from the café, but I am not here to feed my stomach, only my curiosity, which is almost as capacious.