She had reached the stern of the yacht and gazed up at the upper deck, where she knew a Jacuzzi and a small pool were located from the pictures she had seen. But there was still no sign of the boat’s current resident. That’s when she decided to climb the small metal ladder leading to the upper decks, hoping to find the actor sunbathing on the top deck, possibly having fallen asleep and forgotten all about their meeting. As she rounded the corner, she laid eyes on the small pool, a gorgeous azure blue in contrast to the beige wood of the deck, and noticed something floating in it. Moving closer, she saw that it was a person’s body. Without a moment’s hesitation, she jumped into the pool, swam with a couple of powerful strokes of her arms to reach the person, and started dragging the lifeless body back to the side of the pool.

  Moments later, with a supreme effort, she hoisted the body out of the water and placed it face up on the decking. It was Robert Ross, and he appeared very much dead.

  CHAPTER 3

  When Dooley started messing about in the kitchen, and then Odelia walked in with Grace on her arm, I decided to desert my pleasant spot on the couch and go in search of more peaceful pastures to continue my nap in an uninterrupted fashion. I don’t know about you, but I enjoy consuming my naps in one long session. So, I relocated to the rose bushes at the bottom of the garden, hoping to find them uninhabited by our housemates Brutus and Harriet, who often like to spend time there, engaged in their lovey-dovey activities.

  I was in luck, as I found the location free of any lovers, whether pet or otherwise, and with a sigh of relish, I settled down for the long haul. Or at least that was my intention. It soon became clear to me that it simply was not to be. Above me, an insect that looked vaguely familiar drew my attention to its plight, and before long, it was talking a mile a minute.

  “Yo, Max,” said the creature, which at this point I had positively identified as a caterpillar, “I’ve got a problem that’s been giving me a headache.”

  I had the impression that the caterpillar was about to transfer this headache to me if I didn’t get to take my nap, but nevertheless, I asked, “What is it?”

  “Well, I’ve been hounded by this huge monstrous beast that seems intent on eating me, for some reason I can’t possibly fathom.”

  “What beast, and why does it want to eat you?” I asked as I marveled at the mass of feet this creature had. I wondered how it never got them entangled. I guess there must be some kind of system in place.

  “I’m not sure,” said the caterpillar. “Oh, my name is Joe, by the way.”

  “Max,” I said, “but then I guess you already knew that.”

  “Of course!” said Joe. “Who doesn’t know the great Max? So the thing is, I’ve been hanging out here and minding my own business, when all of a sudden, this huge... thing homes in on me. Sometimes it’s carrying a can and threatens to ‘zap me to kingdom come.’ Other times it tries to grab me and says it will ‘turn me to mush.’ Now, is that nice, Max? Is that kind? No, it sure ain’t. So, I would like you to go and talk to this monster and tell it to lay off already. As far as I can tell, I never did anything to upset the beast, and still, it keeps hounding me!”

  “What does this beast look like?” I asked.

  “Like a scarecrow,” said Joe, “but uglier.”

  “Okay, so an ugly scarecrow.”

  “Exactly. And it’s not just me this scarecrow keeps harassing. It’s been happening to all of my friends too. It just goes around threatening us with destruction, and for what? Just because we happen to be alive? That’s no way to treat any creature, Max, and it’s definitely not the way I like to be treated.”

  “You wouldn’t happen to have a name for this scarecrow, would you, Joe?”

  The caterpillar thought for a moment, then finally nodded. “I think I’ve heard it being referred to as... Pesto?”

  “Pesto.”

  “Yeah, must be a nickname.” Suddenly, the caterpillar glanced up, and a look of alarm came over his tiny face. “Don’t look now, but there it is. There, the monster comes!”

  Ignoring Joe’s strict instructions, I did look up and saw that Gran had approached the rose bush and was peering at it intently. She did have a can of some kind in her hand, I now saw, and I understood what was going on.

  “Gran, don’t use that bug spray on me,” I told her immediately.

  “Oh, Max,” said the aged relative. “I didn’t see you there for a moment. You wouldn’t have seen any caterpillars, would you? It’s just that my backyard has been invaded by the species, and they’re eating all the leaves and destroying my precious plants and flowers.”

  Joe, who had taken to hiding underneath a leaf, now made frantic gestures in my direction to attract my attention. “Don’t tell Pesto where I am!” he whispered loudly.

  I shook my head as a sign that I wouldn’t, causing his features to relax.

  “No, I haven’t seen any caterpillars,” I lied to Gran. “But why are you trying to destroy them? You do know that eventually caterpillars become butterflies, right? And that they’re a boon to any garden, a source of infinite pleasure with their colorful displays and graceful flights and flutterings.”

  “I don’t care about any flutterings,” said Gran, a bit more harshly than I would have liked. “All I care about is the survival of my flowers, and with all these voracious bugs hanging around, that won’t be happening.”

  I eyed the can of bug spray with a curious eye. “I thought you were against the use of bug spray?”

  She eyed the can with a look of wonder. “Oh, will you look at that? Who put that there?”

  Gran had been going on about ethical gardening a lot lately, which as far as I could make out meant that she wasn’t going to use any chemicals when she tilled her modest little patch with her claw rake, carefully removing weeds and making the soil ready to give of its best.

  “Chemicals destroy everything and turn the earth into one big garbage dump. Isn’t that what you said, Gran?” I asked.

  “Of course, of course,” she said. “Which is why I don’t understand what this is doing here,” she added, then proceeded to throw the can as far away from her as she could. It sailed across the hedge dividing our backyard from the next. There was a sort of loud thunking sound, followed by a soft yelp of pain, and moments later, Tex Poole, Gran’s son-in-law, appeared in the opening in the hedge, rubbing his head and looking understandably irate.

  “What’s the big idea!” he cried. “Pelting me with cans!”

  “That wasn’t me,” said Gran, even though she was the only one present.

  “Of course it was you! Don’t think I haven’t seen you secretly using that spray on my flowers.”

  “Those are my flowers, and there’s nothing secret about it. I was simply trying to get rid of those caterpillars.”

  “So you admit that you threw the can,” said Tex.

  “I will admit to no such thing!” said Gran, tilting her chin a little higher in a posture of indignation. “It was Max!” she said, pointing an accusing finger at me.

  “A likely story,” Tex scoffed. “Max couldn’t throw a piece of kibble, let alone a can.”

  I would have told the doctor that I can indeed throw a mean piece of kibble, but since my opinion clearly wasn’t required, I kept my tongue. Instead, I lay down again, watching the proceedings like one of those spectators at the US Open. I had a feeling this might prove extremely entertaining. I was even willing to postpone my precious nap to take it all in.

  “Not only have you been using these horrible chemicals on my flowers, thereby poisoning the soil and endangering every species on the planet, but you threw that darn thing at my head!”

  “That was an accident,” said Gran quickly. “Max probably thought he was doing us a favor, but in his haste to get rid of the can, he failed to take into consideration that a certain person or even persons might find themselves in the flight plan of said can.”

  “You threw that can,” said Tex, directing an accusatory finger at his mother-in-law. “Besides, why is it so important to get rid of those caterpillars? They’re a very beneficial species, and besides, they turn into butterflies. You wouldn’t murder a nice, innocent butterfly, would you?”

  “Of course not, are you crazy? I would never raise a hand in anger at any creature, great or small. You know this, Tex. You know that I’m essentially a peaceable person and abhor violence of any kind.” Tex actually rolled his eyes at this, and it wasn’t that he was about to experience a fainting spell, but more to express his reservations about Gran’s statement.

  “Whatever,” he said finally with a throwaway gesture of his hand. “But I’m confiscating this,” he said, holding up the can. “And I better not see any more of this poison in my backyard.”

  “It’s my backyard, too!” Gran cried indignantly.

  But Tex had already left to return to his own backyard—having lost a few of his illusions but gained a tiny little bump on the head.

  “That man drives me crazy,” Gran grunted as she resumed her search for any trespassing caterpillars. “He always thinks he’s right, even though half the time he’s not.”

  “Shouldn’t you both be at the doctor’s office?” I asked. “Or have all of your patients been cured?”

  “We’re taking a day off,” said Gran. When she saw I was staring at her with a sort of puzzled look on my face, she said, “Even doctors can take a day off, you know. It’s hard work having to treat all of those patients, so from time to time, we need to take a break and not see any patients for an indefinite period of time.”

  “How long are you and Tex going to be out of commission?”

  “Like I said, for an indefinite period of time.”

  “Is that your definite answer?”

  She smiled. “Smart-ass.”

  CHAPTER 4

  I don’t mind caterpillars or my humans taking the day off, or even half a day, but what I do mind is if all of this hullabaloo prevents me from doing what I consider my most sacred duty as a feline: taking long, extended naps. After all, my humans often like to consult me on minor and major mysteries that have left them baffled. But what they don’t understand is that for a brain to work at full capacity, plenty of rest is needed. So, I decided once again to relocate, this time to the house next door, where I hoped I wouldn’t be disturbed.

  And I was traipsing along when I was arrested by a loud yell or scream.

  “Max! You’re alive!”

  I turned back to see that my friend Dooley had uttered these immortal words.

  “Yeah, last time I checked, I was still alive,” I said in response.

  “But... I thought you’d been grabbed by the litter monster!”

  Now I’ve heard of the cookie monster, of course, but this was the first time the term ‘litter monster’ was used in my presence. For a moment, I wondered if I should take the bait or not. Doing so might lead us off on some tangent that most probably would eat into my nap time. But then my natural curiosity asserted itself. “Who or what is the litter monster?”

  “The monster that ate our litter,” Dooley explained, making his meaning not all that clear. “And abducted you.” He gave me a keen look. “Have you been abducted, Max?”

  “No, Dooley. I escaped from the house under my own steam.”

  He visibly relaxed. “Oh, phew. For a moment there, I thought you were dead.”

  “I almost was,” I admitted. “If Gran had used her bug spray on me, I might not have survived the ordeal. But as luck would have it, I caught her just in time, saving both myself and Joe in the process.”

  “Who is Joe?”

  “The caterpillar whose life I saved,” I explained and gestured to the rose bush where Gran was still giving Joe the evil eye, even though by all rights she should be keeping an eye on Grace instead. “I was just going next door,” I told my friend. “Seeing as it’s too busy out there, and I can’t seem to get any shut-eye. Wanna join me?”

  “Absolutely,” he said. “Now that Odelia’s house is being targeted by the litter monster, we need to get away before it attacks us next!”

  I would have rolled my eyes at this, but since my eyelids were growing heavier by the second, I didn’t. Instead, we ventured into Marge and Tex’s house, and moments later, we found ourselves staring into Brutus and Harriet’s litter boxes, which oddly enough, were both empty!

  “Oh, no!” said Dooley. “It’s the same monster. It must have been here too!”

  “That’s impossible,” I said, even though the facts were clear. Both litter boxes were devoid of litter, having been neatly cleared out. In fact, whoever had done the job had been so meticulous there wasn’t a single piece of litter left. Almost as if they had been cleaned out with wet wipes.

  “It’s probably Gran,” I now suggested. “She must have decided to clean out our litter boxes and then forgot to refill them.” Gran walked into the kitchen, looking like a woman on a mission. So when we posed the question, she seemed annoyed. “Not now,” she barked. “I’ve got a hot date with a caterpillar.”

  “A hot date with a caterpillar?” asked Dooley. “But Gran, isn’t that... weird?”

  She stared at him for a moment, then shook her head. “It’s not a date date, Dooley. And it’s only hot for him, not me.” Her lips twisted into a vicious grin. “In fact, it isn’t too much to say it will be very hot. Very hot indeed.” With these words, she grabbed a lighter from one of the kitchen drawers.

  “But Gran!” said Dooley. “You can’t set fire to a nice caterpillar! Don’t you know they turn into beautiful butterflies?”

  She grumbled something under her breath, looking caught, and quickly dumped the lighter back into the drawer. “So I just let them destroy all of my plants, is that it?”

  “I’ll talk to Joe,” I assured her. “I’ll tell him to take his business elsewhere and leave our plants alone.”

  Gran gave me a look of such devotion I felt a little tingle travel up my spine. She had clasped her hands together as if in prayer. “You would do that for me, Max?”

  “Of course. Now, about this litter business.”

  “What litter business?” she asked, the look of devotion quickly being replaced by one of annoyance.

  “You cleaned out our litter boxes,” I said. “But forgot to refill them.”

  “I did not clean out your...” She crouched down to look into one of the two boxes and now frowned. “Well, I’ll be damned. Tex! Tex, come here a minute, will you?”

  The kitchen door opened and Tex walked in. Like before, he was dressed in his gardening outfit, which, in his case, consisted of a pair of old jeans and an even older sweater with holes in them. “Now what?” he asked.

  “Did you clean out the cats’ litter boxes and then forget to refill them?”

  He stared at her. “Of course not. That’s your job, Ma.” Even though we have lived with Tex for many years, he still considers us ‘Marge’s cats’ or, conversely, ‘Odelia’s cats’ or even ‘Vesta’s cats.’ Maybe he has a point, since we also consider these ladies our humans, with Tex and Chase their appendages. Like spin-offs from the main feature. And it is true that Tex never feeds us or takes care of our litter boxes. He did install our pet doors, which is something, I suppose. And he tolerates us, which is very kind of him.

  “So, who cleaned these litter boxes?” asked Gran.

  “Marge, probably,” said Tex. “Or Odelia. And now, can I go back to my tomatoes?”

  As an experiment, Tex has been trying to grow his own vegetables. Ever since the prices of common household items and foodstuffs have risen precipitously, our humans decided to put the small plots of land they possess to good use and try to yield a modest harvest. To that end, Tex had planted several seeds and was hoping for a good crop when the time came. He’s also been thinking about raising chickens for their eggs, but so far, Marge has put her foot down and is refusing to budge. I guess she feels four cats are enough denizens of the animal kingdom to contend with and doesn’t want to add a dozen chickens to the mix.

  The good doctor had left the kitchen, and Gran, hoping to get to the bottom of this minor mystery, now put her phone to her ear and called her daughter. But when Marge told her that she hadn’t touched our litter that morning and had no idea who had, the mystery only deepened. Which is why when Gran’s phone rang next and she picked up, she barked, “Odelia, did you clean out the cats’ litter boxes this morning? No? Then who the hell did!” She listened for a moment, then redirected her gaze to us. I could see that whatever Odelia was telling her, clearly concerned us. And to confirm this, she said, “Yeah, I’ll tell them. Right now? The marina? Yeah, okay. So do you need me? Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Uh-huh.”

  Dooley looked at me, I looked at him, and I think we both had the same expression of curiosity written all over our faces.

  “Uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh,” said Gran, not really giving us a lot to go on.

  “What’s with all this ‘uh-huh,’ Max?” asked Dooley.

  “It’s an expression of confirmation,” I said. “Instead of saying ‘I understand’ or ‘I see,’ people simply say ‘uh-huh.’ Like a sort of shorthand.”

  “Gran’s hands are short,” he confirmed, taking in the elderly woman’s hands. “But I still don’t see why she can’t use her words, like any grown-up.”

  Grace had toddled in through the door and now stood stock-still, taking us in. She did that sometimes, and it often made me wonder what went through her head at moments like these. Possibly she saw dead people, like that kid in the Bruce Willis movie, and listened to what they were telling her. She now redirected her attention to us. “So is it true what they’re saying?”

  “What are they saying?” I asked. “And who are they?”

  “Well, Brutus and Harriet, of course. They’re saying that you and Dooley have been using their litter boxes, and they were so dirty that Marge had to clean them ahead of time, and now they have nowhere to do their business except in Blake’s Field, so they did.”