“I don’t know,” said Harriet. “I just keep thinking about that meat, you know, and how sick I felt.” She gave him an earnest look. “If you ever see me come close to any raw meat ever again, and I feel tempted to have a nibble, will you stop me, wookums?”

  “Do you want me to stop you?”

  “Of course I want you to stop me. Otherwise I wouldn’t ask.”

  “Then I will stop you,” he said.

  “Thanks. I don’t want to be sick again. It’s not a nice feeling.”

  “I’ll bet,” he said. He’d been sick plenty of times, and he didn’t need the reminder.

  They both closed their eyes, then Harriet asked, “What’s taking them so long?”

  “Probably still enjoying their date night,” Brutus murmured without opening his eyes.

  “But why? They’re old, so why do they have to go on a date?”

  “They’re not that old. And besides, even old people have the right to go out on a date.”

  “I guess,” she said dubiously. For a moment she didn’t speak, then: “Okay, I’m starting to get seriously worried here, baby boo. Maybe we should organize a search party?”

  “I’m sure they’re fine. They’re just having a really good time, that’s all.”

  There was a time that he and Harriet had gone on dates all the time. They’d go to this restaurant and that, but lately they didn’t often feel like going out anymore. It probably had something to do with the fact that everywhere they turned they seemed to run into those two annoying dogs. Blizzard and Storm. He hated those dogs. He hated their overbearing way, and the fact that they thought they were better than them.

  Just then, there was a commotion downstairs. A door opened and he could hear the sound of two people giggling, then stumbling up the stairs.

  “There they are,” he said. “Happy now?”

  “Yeah, I’m happy,” she admitted. “I always worry when our humans aren’t home, you know.”

  “Same here,” he grunted, and closed his eyes again. Not for long, though, for Marge and Tex had entered the bedroom, and they smelled… intoxicated.

  “Smells like they’ve been drinking!” Harriet whispered.

  “Yeah, I smell it too,” he returned quietly.

  And then one of the strangest episodes in their lives began—and that was saying something, as they had lived through quite a lot of strange episodes.

  For a moment, they didn’t move and simply stared, but then Harriet uttered a loud cry of distress and scooted off the bed and in the direction of the door. Unfortunately for her, Marge or Tex must have closed the door, and so she changed direction and shot toward the window.

  The window was open, but it had one of those mosquito nets that are so annoying. And since Harriet’s need to get away was greater than her respect for the personal property of their humans, she didn’t let that mosquito net stand in her way but simply shot right through it and out the window, creating a nice big hole.

  Brutus wasn’t far behind. He, too, had had quite enough, and as he zoomed through the window in Harriet’s wake, too late he realized that they were on the second floor.

  For a few moments he hung in the air, then he started falling back to earth.

  Whoever invented gravity had a lot to answer for!

  Gran had been sitting and thinking. Thinking of that treasure and sitting on the deck.

  The things she could do if she found that treasure. She could buy herself a new car. No longer would she have to drive that old jalopy that Marge had gifted her. She could buy herself a nice four-by-four. A set of wheels fit for the Watch. She would buy herself an entire new wardrobe, of course. And a cruise.

  She had gone on cruises, but she had always held back on being a big spender. Budget cruise liner. Budget room. Budget everything. Well, no more. She was going to splurge on the best ship, the best room, the best meals—the whole enchilada. And she was taking Scarlett along with her. The two of them would become like those people who lived on cruise liners all year round.

  Oh, the fun they would have. The things they would see. The people they would meet. With any luck they could sit at the captain’s table night after night. Become cruise VIPs.

  And she’d take the cats. It didn’t matter that ships didn’t want cats. If you were rich, like she would be, she could put a little money in the right pockets and the cats could come along and live their best lives in comfort.

  Maybe she would invite her entire family. Marge and Tex, Odelia and Chase. Grace.

  Odelia was out at the paper, apparently, with Mick Harper taking over. And Chase was out at the police precinct, with that same annoying Mick Harper taking over. Tex could become a cruise ship doctor, if he wanted to, and Marge could take care of the cruise ship library. That way everybody would be happy. She wouldn’t take Alec along, of course, as he had proven himself a traitor and a disappointment. Siding with Mick Harper against his own flesh and blood. What a joke. What a washout.

  But as her life’s motto had always been to stay positive at all times, she decided not to dwell on her son’s betrayal, and willed herself to return to a happy place. A place where she and her family lived their best lives aboard a cruise ship.

  She and Scarlett could beef up ship security by organizing a cruise ship watch. And Chase and Odelia could take over as ship detectives and they’d all have a great old time.

  And as she thought of all of this and more, suddenly her phone beeped. She quickly grabbed it from the table and saw that Odelia had sent her a message. She opened it and smiled.

  It was a picture of the treasure map.

  Dooley had come through for her.

  The treasure hunt was on.

  It was at that moment that the sky fell on her head. Though on closer inspection it was Harriet who had just dropped on top of her, quickly followed by Brutus.

  As she rubbed the sore spot where they had dug their claws in, she saw that both cats looked seriously traumatized.

  “What the heck is going on?” she demanded.

  “It’s Marge,” said Harriet after a moment. Her eyes were wide. “Marge and Tex.”

  “The things they were doing, Gran,” said Brutus hoarsely.

  “Terrible things,” Harriet croaked. “Unsightly things!”

  Brutus swallowed once or twice, then whispered, “The horror! The horror!”

  CHAPTER 25

  The time had come for us to leave our humans to their peaceful slumber and join cat choir. And since Dooley had a special mission to fulfill for Gran, it had taken us a little longer than usual to get going.

  “I’m still not sure about this, Dooley,” I said. “I mean, Odelia specifically told us not to mention this whole treasure map business to anyone, remember?”

  Dooley gave me a look of contrition. “I know, but she never said why. Or if she did, I missed that part. And you have to agree that we have to save those pugs, Max.”

  “That’s true. We do need to save those pugs.”

  “And also, Odelia talks a lot and says a lot of things. It’s hard for me to remember everything, Max.”

  “I know, buddy. She does talk a lot. But that’s because she’s a reporter, and reporters are used to talking a lot.”

  Though in all honesty, a good reporter probably needs to listen more than talk. But then Odelia knows how to do both, so in that sense she straddles both worlds: the world of the listeners and the world of the talkers. She’s like an introvert-extrovert hybrid, if such a thing exists.

  I had caught Dooley sneaking up to Odelia’s phone, which as always lay on her nightstand, and search for and find the picture of the treasure map Anthemia had sent us. And then he sent it off to Gran.

  When I asked him what he was doing, he looked caught. “I’m just doing what Gran asked me to do,” he explained once we had removed ourselves from the bedroom, so as not to wake up Odelia and Chase. “She needs the money from the treasure, Max, so she can buy flatscreens to put up as a prize for her raffle.”

  “Oh, right,” I said. “Well, I guess it probably can’t hurt if Gran tries to locate the treasure, as Anthemia insists that it doesn’t exist.”

  “But… if the treasure doesn’t exist, how is Gran going to find it?”

  “Well, she isn’t,” I said. “That’s the whole point.”

  “But… without a treasure, she can’t buy a flatscreen television. And without a flatscreen television, she won’t be able to sell raffle tickets. And if she doesn’t find buyers for her raffle tickets, the pugs won’t be able to find a new forever home. And they’ll have to stay at the shelter forever! Oh, and the shelter won’t even carry Gran’s name anymore, since Ida has threatened to remove Gran’s name and simply call it ‘Animal Shelter’ from now on.”

  “Or she could call it the Ida Baumgartner Animal Shelter,” I suggested.

  Dooley studied me for a moment, then smiled. “That’s a joke, isn’t it, Max? You’re joking.”

  “No, I’m serious. If Ida wants to rename the shelter, she will probably name it after herself. Lots of people do that sort of thing. Mostly politicians, though, and last time I looked, Ida wasn’t a politician.”

  “We have to find that treasure, Max,” said Dooley, not all that interested in my Ida Baumgartner theories. “For the pugs.”

  “I guess,” I said, even though I’m not big on treasure hunts. From what I’ve been able to glean from movies and television shows, mostly these consist of people traipsing around some godforsaken island, digging holes and exploring tunnels. And since I’m a cat and not a mole, that’s the last thing I want to be engaged in.

  Just then, the pet flap flapped and Brutus and Harriet walked in. They both looked thoroughly discombobulated.

  “Max! Dooley!” Brutus cried in a hoarse croak. “You’ll never guess what we’ve just seen!”

  “Don’t tell them, cuddle bear,” said Harriet. “It’s too horrible a story to share, and it will only traumatize Dooley—the same way it has traumatized us.”

  “What has traumatized you, Harriet?” asked Dooley, her words having made him curious.

  “We were in Marge and Tex’s bedroom just now,” said Brutus.

  “Brutus, don’t tell them!”

  “But we have to, baby angel. Shared sorrow is half sorrow, after all.”

  “I guess,” she said dubiously. She disappeared into the kitchen to take a closer look at her bowl, while Brutus did the honors of regaling us with the story of their latest adventure.

  “They had gone out, you see,” he said.

  “Who had gone out?” asked Dooley.

  “Why, Marge and Tex, of course. We were in their bedroom, and they had gone out, so we were starting to worry where they might be. We shouldn’t have, for five minutes later they walked in—though I should probably say they stumbled in, looking a little inebriated.”

  “Tex and Marge were drunk?” I asked.

  “Well, not drunk, but two sheets to the wind, if you know what I mean.”

  “I do.” It surprised me, as I didn’t think I’d ever seen either Marge or Tex drunk before. But then I guess there has to be a first time for everything. “Go on. What happened then?”

  “They started to undress,” said Brutus with a shiver. “And before long, they started doing things that I’ve never seen before—and now I wish I hadn’t.” He closed his eyes as he briefly relived the horror. “The things I saw in that bedroom, Max.” He shook his head. “I’m going to carry this trauma for the rest of my life.”

  “PTSD,” said Dooley knowingly. “There was a documentary about it on the Discovery Channel the other night. People who have been in wars often suffer from PTSD. I think you need to talk to a doctor, Brutus. Get this PTSD of yours diagnosed.”

  “Dooley is right,” I said. “If what you saw has traumatized you and Harriet to such an extent, you should probably go and see a shrink. Talk about what happened and get a handle on it.”

  “But I don’t want to talk about it!” Brutus cried. “In fact, I don’t want to think about it—ever again!”

  “All right, all right,” I said soothingly. “It’s going to be all right, Brutus.”

  “I’m not so sure about that,” Brutus murmured as he stared off into space, a haunted look on his face. “The worst part was that we were stuck. They had closed the bedroom door, you see, so there was nowhere we could run. In the end, Harriet simply jumped right through the mosquito net, and so did I. We both landed on top of Gran’s head, who didn’t look too well pleased with this.”

  “Oh, I can imagine,” I said. “Nobody likes to have two cats landing on their head. So did you tell her what happened?”

  “We did! And she was just as shocked as we were to find out what her daughter and son-in-law had been up to. Her words, not mine—she called it ‘completely inappropriate.’ She also said she was going to have a word with Marge and Tex about it. Said it wasn’t right to carry on like that in front of us.”

  “They probably weren’t aware that you guys were in the room,” I said. “Usually by this time we’re already on our way to cat choir.”

  “Yeah, what’s with the delay?” asked Brutus. “Is it the huskies? Don’t want to run into them again?”

  “It’s Dooley,” I said. “Gran had given him a mission, and before we left for cat choir, he wanted to carry out his mission.”

  “What mission is this?”

  “Gran wants to go look for the treasure,” Dooley explained. “And so I sent her a picture of the treasure map that was on Odelia’s phone. I didn’t think I could do it, and I wanted to ask Harriet, but I couldn’t find her, so I did it myself. And it worked! I actually did it!”

  “But… didn’t Odelia tell us not to mention this map to anyone?”

  “Gran isn’t just anyone, Brutus,” said Dooley reproachfully. “She is my human, and when I saw how troubled she was over the fate of those pugs, I had to do something.” He hung his head. “Also, I guess I sort of missed the part where Odelia explained why we couldn’t share that picture with anyone.”

  “I’m sure it’ll be fine,” said Brutus. “Either Gran proves Anthemia was right and the map’s a fake—in which case she gets a bunch of free exercise, which is great for someone her age—or she actually finds the treasure and we all get rich. Win-win.”

  “I doubt it,” I said. “If you find a treasure you’re not supposed to keep it, Brutus.”

  “And why not? Isn’t the notion of finders keepers still valid?”

  “I’m sure that treasure belongs to the government,” I said, “though the finder will probably get some kind of reward or something.”

  “What a drag,” said Brutus. “So if Gran finds the treasure she’ll have to give it up?”

  “I’m not an expert,” I said. “And Gran should probably consult with a lawyer. But like I said, she might be able to keep some of it. Enough to buy a flatscreen TV for her raffle.”

  Harriet had returned from the kitchen and looked a little less undone than she had when she walked in. “Okay, I’m ready to leave for cat choir now, you guys. Singing will do me good after the terrible trauma I’ve just endured.”

  And so we left for the park. Harriet was right. After everything we had gone through these past couple of days, I was looking forward to a nice time spent in the company of our friends.

  CHAPTER 26

  When we arrived at the park, I was surprised to find Shanille and the others hovering near the entrance. For some reason, they all looked quite downcast. Also: they weren’t singing, even though we were late and rehearsals should have been in full swing.

  “What’s going on?” I asked.

  “Has there been a bomb scare?” asked Brutus, and laughed at his own joke.

  “I know,” said Harriet. “You were all waiting for me, weren’t you? You realized that you couldn’t start without the star of cat choir, so you decided to postpone the rehearsals.” She directed a radiant smile at Shanille. “Worry not, oh fearless leader. Harriet is here.”

  “Our rehearsal spot has gone to the dogs,” said Kingman when Shanille didn’t react.

  “What do you mean?” I asked. “Has the playground been destroyed?”

  “Probably renovations,” said Dooley.

  “It was starting to look a little run-down lately,” Brutus added. “Especially the see-saw. It didn’t saw straight anymore. More like crooked.”

  “It isn’t the see-saw,” said Kingman. “And it isn’t renovations. The playground has been taken over by the dogs. Dog choir, to be more specific.”

  We all stared at him.

  “But… they can’t do that,” said Harriet. “That’s our rehearsal spot!”

  “Not anymore,” said Shanille, finally piping up. She looked like Brutus and Harriet had after being forced to witness Marge and Tex’s nocturnal acrobatics. “Dog choir has staked their claim, so from now on we’re officially without a rehearsal spot.”

  “The park is big,” I pointed out. “We could always pick a different spot.”

  “You don’t understand, Max,” said Shanille, giving me a pained look. “The dogs have staked their claim on the entire park. And they’ve told us not to set paw in there if we know what’s good for us.”

  “That’s outrageous!” Brutus cried. “Nobody owns this park. It’s a public area!”

  “Try to tell them that,” said Kingman sadly. “They were pretty adamant about it.”

  “Let me guess,” I said. “Blizzard and Storm?”

  Kingman nodded. “They said that cat choir has dominated this park long enough. Now it’s their turn.”

  “He mentioned noise pollution,” Buster piped up.

  “As if our angelic voices could ever be called anything other than amazing!” Tigger added his voice to the choir.

  “Where are we going to go?” asked Darlene. “If we can’t rehearse here at the park anymore, we have to find a new spot.”