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I yelped and jumped in the air, then sprinted in the direction of the nearest couch and burrowed underneath. It wasn’t the best idea, though, for the thing—whatever it was—hit the wall, then did a slow ricocheting movement and came zooming at me again!

“Heeeeelp!” I cried. “It’s coming for me!”

“Save yourselves!” Brutus screamed. “Women and children first!”

“It’s just a vacuum cleaner,” Marge said. “It’s not going to hurt you.”

I wasn’t too sure about that. My friends had scattered to the four winds, and were hiding wherever they could. But it soon became clear that there was no hiding from this machine from hell!

So I wormed myself from underneath the couch again, and jumped up onto the couch instead. I had a feeling—call it survival instinct—that it might be able to kill anything on the ground level, but wasn’t able to take off and fly.

I was right, for as I watched on, the machine did its terrible devious work on the floor, but never made any attempts to have liftoff.

“I found its fatal flaw, you guys!” I shouted to all who would listen. “It can’t fly! So better hide where it can’t get at you! Aim high! The higher the better!”

Marge and Odelia were laughing their asses off, which was very rude, I thought. But that’s humans for you. They love nothing better than to watch their pets suffer indignation.

“What is it, Max?!” Dooley yelled from the second shelf of the bookcase, where he had somehow managed to worm himself between a copy of John Grisham’s The Firm and Deepak Chopra’s latest bestseller.

“It’s a vacuum cleaner!” I yelled back.

“But it moves all by itself! How is that possible?!”

“It has wheels,” I said, for even in those scary moments when the machine had almost caught me and devoured me whole, I’d noticed the tiny wheels it operated on, and the essential mechanics behind this contraption had immediately become clear to me.

“I don’t think the cats like the Roomba,” said Marge.

“I don’t think so either,” said Odelia. “Which is strange, for some cats love vacuum cleaners.”

“Did you notice I cleaned your entire house this morning, missy?” asked her mother.

“Thanks, Mom,” said Odelia, and gave her mother a kiss on the cheek. “I would have done it… eventually.”

“You work too hard,” said Marge. “Maybe you should get a maid.”

“On my salary? No way.”

“Better a maid than to live in a pigsty.”

“My house is not a pigsty!” said Odelia, laughing.

“Have you seen your bathroom lately?”

“I was going to clean it last weekend, but then Dan called and asked me to cover that new farmer’s market…”

“You need a maid,” said Marge decidedly.

From my vantage point I was hoping and praying that Marge wouldn’t get her way. I mean, first this Roomba and then a stranger taking over the household? I mean, yikes!

Chapter 20

The doorbell rang and since Marge had stepped out to visit their daughter next door, and Vesta hadn’t arrived home yet, Tex opened the door. He found two women on the doorstep, one tall, one short, who were beaming at him.

“Dr. Poole?” asked the short one. “Doctor Tex Poole?”

“Yes,” he said cautiously. Patients sometimes had a tendency to show up unannounced at the house, drop their pants and show him a suspicious spot on their buttocks. It had already caused some hilarity amongst the neighbors, and not a small measure of embarrassment for Tex himself.

The tallest of the twosome stuck out a hand and showed him a card.“My name is Iris Johnson. And this is my sister Mira. We’re insurance brokers. We specialize in art. Are you an art collector, Dr. Poole?”

“Well, yes, I am,” he said.

“May we come in for a moment? Many art collectors neglect to insure their precious collections until it is too late.”

“What my esteemed colleague means to say is that a private home is often less than ideal for storing valuable works of art,” explained Mira Johnson.

“A fire, a burglary, a water leak… They can all have devastating effects on your collection. And that’s where we come in.”

“Johnson and Johnson will insure your collection at a reasonable price.”

“A very reasonable price.”

“So you don’t have to lose sleep over any contingency that could occur.”

It all sounded very plausible to Tex, and he found himself nodding along as the two insurance brokers explained to him the ins and outs of their unique offer.

“Come in,” he said. “I hadn’t really thought of insurance, but you’re absolutely right.”

“Thank you, Dr. Poole,” said Mira as they accepted his invitation and entered the house.

And as they stepped into the living room, Iris caught sight of Big Gnome #21 and said,“Ah!”

“A-ha!” said her sister and colleague.

“Wonderful.”

“Beautiful.”

“Stunning.”

“But is it insured?”

“Um, no, actually it’s not,” said Tex, a little sheepishly. Both women tsk-tsked freely, and took a seat on the sofa, offering a great view of the painting of the grinning gnome.

“First we need to ascertain its value,” said Miss Johnson. “Isn’t that right, Iris?”

“Absolutely right, Mira.”

“Do you have any idea of its value, Dr. Poole?”