e9c12ac8d703d9a536f23183edf8b22c

“Well, she and her friends all went clubbing last night, and her friends say they left her in front of the Cocky Cauldron and watched her take off in the direction of home.”

“Home is with Father Reilly and Father Reilly’s not-wife, right?” said Dooley.

“No, Marigold and Angel live in an apartment in a new development in Bickersfield.”

“So what do the police say?” asked Harriet.

“Marigold doesn’t believe in the police,” I said, earning myself a grateful smile from Shanille. It’s not a lot of fun having to explain the whole story twice.

“She doesn’t believe in the police?” asked Brutus. “What’s that supposed to mean? The police isn’t something you either believe or don’t believe in, Shanille. The police aren’t God.”

“Angel’s mom had a fight with Uncle Alec,” I explained. “So now she doesn’t want anything to do with him.”

“A fight with Uncle Alec!” Harriet said, her eyes shining a little brighter. “What was the fight about?”

“I don’t know,” said Shanille. “And frankly I don’t care. All I know is that Marigold doesn’t want to ask Alec for anything. They’re not on speaking terms.”

“Not even when her daughter goes missing? That’s kind of extreme, don’t you think?”

“It may be extreme, but that’s just the way it is. So are you going to help me find Angel or are you going to stand there and argue about Marigold’s beef with the police all day?”

Harriet gave Shanille an annoyed glance. You don’t tell a Persian what to do, after all. They can decide that perfectly well for themselves, thank you very much.

“Okay, so I hate to say this, you guys,” I said. “But maybe, just this once, we should consider recruiting the services of… a dog.”

“A dog!” said Harriet, giving me a look of extreme surprise.

“Dogs have a unique ability that comes in handy in cases like these,” I said. “You give them something to smell that used to belong to the missing person, and before you know it, they’ve picked up the trail, and followed it all the way to the actual person. It’s uncanny.”

“I think we both know that whatever dogs can do, cats can do better, Max,” said Harriet.

“Hear, hear,” said Brutus.

“So there will be no recruiting of dogs, all right? Not on my watch!”

“I think Max may have a point,” said Shanille, striking the discordant note. “Look, all I want,” she added over Harriet protestations, “is to find Angel, okay? And frankly I don’t care how we do it—without the help of dogs, if we can, with if we must. Though frankly I don’t hold thesame grudge against dogs Harriet seems to have. No offense, Harriet.”

“I don’t have a grudge. I like dogs just as much as the next cat!” said Harriet. “But we don’t need them, that’s all I’m saying. They can only cramp our style and distract us. I mean, we all know what dogs are like. Annoying!”

“Good to know,” suddenly a voice announced from our rear, and when we turned around, we found ourselves in the company of Rufus.

“I wasn’t talking about you, Rufus,” Harriet quickly backpedaled. “I was talking about other dogs.”

“What other dogs? I’m the dog you meet the most,” said Rufus, who looked insulted.

“I was talking about… um… well, how about that dog that lives across the street?”

“What dog that lives across the street? There is no dog that lives across the street.”

“Look, Rufus, if you could spare us a moment of your time,” I said, deciding to nip this argument in the bud before things got out of paw. “Shanille’s human’s daughter is missing, and so we were hoping you could give us the benefit of your superior sense of smell to try and find her.”

“I’m sorry, Max,” said Rufus, and gestured to the leash Ted had him on. “But even if I wanted to help you, I can’t.”

“Can’t you, like, escape?” asked Dooley.

“Can’t you see he doesn’t want to help us?” said Harriet. “He doesn’t care about Shanille’s human’s daughter, and he doesn’t care about us. In fact all Rufus cares about is his reputation, and if he were to join us on this quest, he’d have to confess that dogs don’t have that great sense of smell after all. That the whole thing is simply a PR stunt perpetrated by Hollywood to make us think that dogs are superior to cats—which they’re not,” she quickly added, in case we hadn’t caught her drift.

The big fluffy dog looked as if he was getting a little hot under his collar now, and growled,“Dogs do have a superior sense of smell, Harriet, and if not for this damn leash Ted has me on, I would be more than happy to prove it to you.”

“Well, then prove it right now,” Harriet challenged the dog. “Yank that leash and free yourself from Ted’s command. What are you, a dog or a mouse?”

“Look, there really is no need for…” I began, but then before our very eyes, suddenly Rufus did give his leash a vigorous yank, and started to follow us as our party of five put itself into motion once more.

“Rufus!” said Ted as he was obliged to follow along. “Rufus, where are you going?”

“I’m going to save a woman,” said Rufus. “And if you know what’s good for you, you won’t stop me, Ted!”