“Not even to help his friend George?”

  “Not even to help his friend George.”

  And then it was our turn to go walkabout. Kingman had never finished telling me about the modifications Wilbur made to his pet flap, and suddenly I was dying to find out.

  10

  We were walking along in the direction of downtown Hampton Cove when all of a sudden we came upon a group of kids. They seemed to be engaged in some kind of activity on their phones, for they were excitedly gibbering amongst themselves, and glancing intently at their respective devices all the while.

  “I think he’s here,” said one of the kids, a fair-haired girl of about twelve.

  “If I find him, I’ll have the highest score in town,” said a boy, who was even younger than the girl, had freckles all over his face, a bucktooth, and looked as if he still needed his mom to wipe his nose.

  “Don’t these kids have to be in school, Max?” asked Dooley.

  It was the exact same question I’d been asking myself, to be honest.

  “Maybe they’re on a school trip,” I suggested. “Or on some kind of assignment?”

  But as we passed, suddenly all of the kids turned in our direction, their faces eager and their expressions fervent, glancing from their phones to us, then back to their phones and finally, all eyes settling on us. Excited murmurs ran through the small group, and all of a sudden the fair-haired girl cried, “It’s them! It’s MokeMax and MokeDooley!”

  “I saw them first!” cried the buck-toothed young boy with the freckles, and as one kid, suddenly they all descended upon us, with the clear intent of catching us!

  “Run, Dooley!” I cried when it became clear our lives were in danger. “Run like the wind!”

  And so Dooley did exactly as I instructed: he ran like the wind, and soon was at the end of the street, leaving his pursuers far behind. Of course Dooley is a much smaller feline than me, and even though I tried to keep up, and managed to put a distance between myself and my persecutors, I still had a hard time making my getaway. Steve McQueen I certainly am not, nor did I have a Mustang at my disposal. I’m a cat built for comfort, you see, not speed, and also, I have those big bones of mine to contend with, as discussed, whereas Dooley’s bones are probably light as a feather, not unlike a bird!

  After a while, I was panting and clearly in trouble, and the small group of excited kids was gaining on me!

  “I’ve got him—MokeMax is mine!” said the snot-nosed kid as he reached out to grab me by the neck.

  But just then I was lucky enough to spot a tree by the side of the road and zoomed right underneath that tree and disappeared from view, making sure those kids couldn’t get at me. And to make sure I was fully out of reach, I even took the precaution of scooting up that same tree, like only cats can, claws digging into bark, and soon was ensconced in the top of that tree, and found myself gazing down at that small group of kids, who were pointing at me, eager to lay their grubby little hands on me!

  In the distance, I could see Dooley still going strong, doing a Forrest Gump and disappearing from view, and then it was just me and those darn kids!

  “So now what?” I murmured to myself. I’d well and truly gotten myself into a jam now, hadn’t I! And to my extreme distress suddenly the snot-nosed kid started climbing the same tree I was lodged in, and branch by branch crawling closer to where I was sitting! From time to time he stopped to wipe his nose on his sleeve, then continued on.

  “Oh, darn it,” I said as I watched that horrible kid with an expression of extreme glee on his face move ever closer! “Get lost!” I told him in no uncertain terms as he moved within a couple of yards from me. “Get away from me, you horrible little brat!”

  But of course the kid wouldn’t listen. He was too busy showing off to his friends, and proving that he was the one who would ‘catch MokeMax!’ whoever this mysterious MokeMax could be. Obviously the kid had me confused with another creature.

  Lucky for me I’m equipped with a nice set of claws, and as he grabbed for me, I gave his hand a nasty scratch, prepared to defend myself with tooth and claw if necessary.

  “Ouch!” he said, then yelled to the others, who all stood watching on from down below: “He scratched me! MokeMax just scratched me!”

  “Just grab him already, Ralphie!” one of his buddies shouted. “Or no points for you!”

  And so it was with renewed fervor that Ralph made a grab for me, pointing with his phone in my direction for some reason, at which point I decided enough was enough, and made the great leap to the nearest house, where I reached the roof with only millimeters to spare, and started licking the claw I’d used to stave off Ralphie’s attempts to corner me.

  Ralphie wasn’t deterred, though, and encouraged by the baying crowd of kids below, also tried to make the jump to the gutter. Lucky for me Ralphie wasn’t built like a cat, so my new hiding place was well out of reach for the horrible kid. Also, and much to my delight, it now appeared as if he was stuck, and didn’t dare to get back down!

  And so as I watched from the roof of the house, about ten minutes later the fire department arrived, and a fireman was dispatched to get Ralphie out of his predicament.

  “This isn’t over, MokeMax!” he screamed as he was freed from his position in the top of the tree. He shook his freckled fist at me. “I’ll get you next time—just you wait and see!”

  “Shut up, kid,” said the grumpy fireman, who probably had had to interrupt a great game on television back at the precinct to get this annoying kid out of a tree.

  I meowed, hoping the fireman would rescue me from that roof, but apparently that was too much to ask, for he pointedly ignored me, and as I watched, the activity dispersed: the fire truck rode drove off, the kids probably went to school, where they belonged, and then I was alone once more. Except for Dooley, who’d returned, and was staring up at me.

  “Max?”

  “Dooley!” I said. “Am I glad to see you!”

  “Why are you on that roof?”

  “I was trying to get away from those horrible kids.”

  “Can you get down?”

  I looked around. There was that nearby tree, of course, but I didn’t think I’d be able to get down that way. And then there was the drainpipe, but I was absolutely sure I wouldn’t be able to get down that way!

  “Looks like I’m stuck,” I said sadly.

  “Wait there, Max,” said my friend. “I’ll go and get help!”

  I didn’t really have much of a choice but to wait there, and so I settled in for the duration, and thought hard thoughts about kids being allowed to wander around unsupervised and harass unsuspecting cats. Isn’t there some law about keeping kids on a leash at all times? Or is that dogs? At any rate, I thought the rule should probably apply to both species alike, since both of them are equally annoying to us felines.

  It only took Dooley about twenty minutes, but when he returned it was with both Odelia and Chase in tow.

  I waved at my humans, and said, “I’m sorry, Odelia, I was chased up here by kids!”

  “I know,” said Odelia, shielding her eyes as she took in the scene. ‘”Dooley told me all about it. But why were they chasing you?”

  “I have no idea!”

  “They kept saying they were hunting MokeMax and MokeDooley,” said Dooley.

  Odelia glanced to her husband, who spat in his hands, and said, “I’ll get him down for you, babe—no sweat.” And before my astonished gaze, Chase climbed that tree as if he’d never done anything else his entire life! And as he reached me he said, “Now jump, Max. Jump straight into my arms, buddy. Don’t be afraid—I’ll catch you!”

  And so I jumped, and soon was being carried down by Chase, resting peacefully and safely on his broad shoulders, and at that moment my warm and fuzzy feelings for the man Odelia was so clever to select as her mate for life increased with leaps and bounds.

  “How many times has Chase saved us, Dooley?” I asked once we were safely on the ground again.

  “Must be dozens of times, Max,” said Dooley as we gazed adoringly at the tall cop.

  “Thanks, Chase,” I said. “You’re my hero.”

  “And mine,” said Dooley.

  “You’re my hero, too,” said Odelia, and pressed a tender kiss to her husband’s lips.

  “All in a day’s work,” said the tall cop as he wiped his hands and dusted his pants.

  And as we stood there, suddenly a man materialized, carrying a bulky camera, and said, “Odelia Kingsley?”

  “That’s me,” said Odelia good-naturedly.

  “I’ll give you ten thousand for it,” said the man.

  Odelia laughed. “My cats are not for sale.”

  “Not the cats,” said the man, making a face as if she’d offered to feed him a plate of bugs. “The George Calhoun film. I’ll give you twenty thousand in cash. Final offer.”

  She regarded him sternly. “You’re a paparazzo, aren’t you? I thought I recognized you.”

  The guy shrugged. “We all gotta make a living. So how about it, Odelia? Are you selling or not?”

  “Not,” she said. “And besides, I don’t even know what you’re talking about. What film?”

  “Cut the crap, lady,” said the guy nastily. “The whole town is abuzz with the story. How your dad managed to fly a drone over Calhoun’s pool and caught him in flagrante delicto with some hot babe. This is the story of the year—nay, the decade!”

  “I think you better get lost now,” said Chase as he took a menacing step forward.

  The guy wasn’t deterred, though. Your true pap needs more incentive to get lost than a burly cop making threatening noises. “Look, I’m prepared to go as high as fifty thousand. What do you say? You won’t get a better offer.” His face clouded. “Unless of course George himself has been in touch. How much did he offer to have the film destroyed?”

  “Look, I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about,” said Odelia. “Now please leave us alone.”

  “I guess you want to keep the scoop for yourself,” said the guy as he started following along as we moved in the direction of Chase’s car. “I should have known—ace reporter such as yourself. Though I have to admit I didn’t think Dan Goory had it in him to print footage like that in the Gazette. Always figured he ran a classy paper, not a gutter rag.”

  “Will you just get lost?” said Chase as he swiped in the direction of the pap as if he was a pesky fly, which to all intents and purposes he probably was.

  The guy shrugged. “Have it your way.” But before he walked off, he said, “If I were you I’d think long and hard before I subjected those cats of yours to this Mokemon nonsense, but then of course you’re probably doing it for the story, aren’t you?” And as he took a couple of snaps of me and Dooley, he added with a chuckle, “It’s not just George who’s notorious—those cats of yours will soon be the talk of the town, too!”

  And then he was mounting his motorcycle, and roared off, leaving us to stare after him, our minds abuzz with questions and not a lot of answers.

  11

  Odelia and Chase dropped us off in downtown Hampton Cove, but not before ascertaining that we’d survived our ordeal to their satisfaction.

  I assured them I was fine, and so was Dooley, and then both of our humans took off in the direction of their respective offices and Dooley and myself set paw for the General Store, where I still wanted urgent speech with Kingman.

  The voluminous cat was holding forth on the sidewalk in front of Wilbur’s store as usual, and when we arrived had just said goodbye to two pretty felines, who sashayed off, watched after by an appreciative Kingman. He’s an aficionado of the female feline form, and the appreciation is entirely mutual, which never ceases to amaze me, since Kingman is not exactly the Chuck Crush or George Calhoun amongst cats. But then the female mind has always been something of a mystery to me.

  “Dooley, Max,” he said, never taking his eyes off the disappearing felines’ backsides.

  “Kingman, last night you started to tell me something, but then we got sidetracked.”

  “Oh, yeah?” he said, finally dragging his attention away from his female friends and fastening it on yours truly.

  “You said something about certain modifications Wilbur made to your pet flap?”

  “Oh, that’s right. Completely forgot about that. Come on in—it’s easier if I show you.”

  And so we followed him into the shop, past Wilbur, who kept one eye on a football game on his small television and another one on the wares that had been placed on his conveyor belt, past the racks of dried goods and the meat section, several fridges and coolers, and finally through the plastic strip door curtain that acts as a divider between the store and Wilbur and Kingman’s home. We finally reached the kitchen, and Kingman halted in front of the back door and what looked like an intricate boxy contraption.

  “This is it,” Kingman pronounced proudly. “The Pet Funnel 5000. Wilbur got it on the internet.”

  “But what is it?” I asked curiously as I studied the thing. It had been bolted into the door, was square in shape, and had a number of buttons placed on a control panel.

  “It’s pretty simple, actually,” said Kingman, “though the technology behind it is state-of-the-art. So all I have to do is position myself right in front of that little camera.”

  “Oh, is that a camera?” asked Dooley, as we both stared at a small round eye.

  “A scanner, actually. It scans my face, then searches its database for my likeness, and when it finds me, the little plastic door slides up and I can go through. And the great thing is: it’s adjustable. In fact the manufacturer guarantees it adjusts to any pet of any size. Here, let me show you how it works.”

  And as he proceeded to step in front of the small camera, there was a buzzing sound, and moments later a light blinked green, the transparent plastic door slid up, like the door of a garage, and Kingman walked through. Immediately the door closed again.

  “Now you try!” he shouted from the other side of the door.

  So I positioned myself in front of that camera, the same buzzing sounds indicated the machine was thinking hard, and then… nothing. All I could see was a tiny red light.

  “It doesn’t recognize you!” Kingman shouted through the door. “Wilbur has to feed you into the system first or it won’t let you pass!” He followed the same procedure and moments later had joined us in the kitchen again. “Pretty nifty, huh?” he said, glowing with pride.

  “Pretty nifty,” I agreed.

  “It’s a smart system. It knows who I am, and only allows me to pass through.”

  “So you can’t invite a friend?” asked Dooley, curious.

  “No, it only allows the cats Wilbur has decided to grant access. It’s designed to make sure no unwanted pets enter the house. Only your own pet is allowed in.”

  “So what do you do if you want to invite a friend?” Dooley insisted.

  “The old-fashioned way,” said Kingman. “I make a lot of noise until Wilbur shows up and opens the door.”

  “Cool,” I said. “The things they invent these days, huh?”

  “There’s a lot more this baby can do,” said Kingman. “Imagine for instance that parents don’t want their cat or dog to go into the nursery. They can install the Pet Funnel 5000 on the nursery door and program it so it won’t allow cats or dogs to go in there.”

  “Can’t they simply close the door and not install the Pet Funnel 5000?” I asked.

  He thought about that for a moment. “I guess that’s also a possibility,” he allowed.

  “How big does it get?” asked Dooley, glancing in my direction. He knew that was the real reason I was interested in this device.

  “Like I said, it can go as big as you want. It’s totally adjustable. In fact it automatically adapts to the pet that needs to pass through. And if you consider that this thing is designed for any pet, of any size, also big dogs like Dobermans, it’s easy to see why this baby has become the go-to pet flap for the modern pet parent.”

  Like his own pet parent, Kingman was a born salesman. He certainly had sold me!

  “I want one!” I said immediately.

  “Can a cow pass through the Pet Funnel 5000, Kingman?” asked Dooley.

  “No, Dooley. A cow can’t pass through the Pet Funnel 5000.”

  “Can a horse pass through the Pet Funnel 5000?”

  “Just tell Odelia to call Wilbur, Max. He’ll be able to get her a nice discount.”

  “Can an elephant pass through the Pet Funnel 5000?”

  “By the way, did you hear about that George Calhoun business?” asked Kingman, ignoring Dooley. Then he thunked his head with his paw. “Oh, silly me. Of course you heard. It’s Tex who made that video. So where does he keep it? At the house?”

  “What does the 5000 stand for, Kingman?” asked Dooley.

  “Um…” I said, not sure I felt comfortable discussing the George Calhoun affair with one who’s as notorious a gossip as Kingman.

  “Look, whatever you do, make sure you keep it somewhere safe,” said Kingman now as we traversed the house again, and ended up back in the store, traipsing along the rows of wares. “Cause I overheard a woman talking on the phone this morning, who said she wanted that footage and she was going to get it, too.”

  “What woman?” I asked with a frown.

  “Don’t know the name. She comes in here from time to time. Pretty young blonde.”

  “Doesn’t ring a bell,” I said.

  “Can a dinosaur pass through the Pet Funnel 5000, Kingman?” asked Dooley.

  The big cat gave Dooley an indulgent smile, then turned back to me. “Watch your step, Max. I got the impression a lot of people are after that footage, and plenty of them will stop at nothing to get it.”

  Oh, dear. As if it wasn’t enough that I had my weight and pet flap issue to deal with, or pesky kids chasing me up trees, now I had to act as my humans’ keeper, too.