It was a mystery to him, and he thought about asking Max, but his friend seemed so involved with his pet flap issue Dooley didn’t think it was a good idea to bother him with this particular question.

  No, he felt he should probably be able to work it out by himself. And so when the doorbell chimed and Marge went to open the door and a woman walked into the living room who looked very much like George Calhoun’s wife, Dooley thought that maybe now he would get his answer. Who better than George’s wife to explain why she was so upset about her husband’s infidelities?

  “Take a seat, Mrs. Calhoun,” said Marge, who seemed impressed at the sudden insertion into her home of this woman. Anna Calhoun was a very attractive woman, in a classical sense. She wasn’t blond, like George’s girlfriend, who appeared to be his neighbor’s wife, but dark-haired and more sophisticated in her appearance. She had sharp and fine-boned features, and was dressed in fine and, so Dooley thought, very expensive clothes. She was also holding a small black leather Louis Vuitton clutch.

  “What can I do for you?” asked Marge.

  “I think you know why I’m here, Mrs. Poole,” said the woman now.

  “Um… I’m not sure…”

  “You don’t have to spare my feelings,” said Anna Calhoun, proudly tilting her chin. “It has come to my attention that a film exists, showing my husband in close embrace with Tammy Freiheit, who is our neighbor. Is it true?”

  Marge seemed reluctant to divulge the truth, maybe to spare the woman’s feelings, but finally cast down her eyes and nodded. “It is true,” she said quietly.

  “I knew it,” said Anna, as she glanced to the television, where one of George’s old movies was playing. And as luck would have it, he was just in that moment kissing a woman passionately and with plenty of obvious fervor.

  “Can I see the film?” asked Anna, dragging her eyes away from the passionate scene.

  Marge nodded, and called out, “Tex? Come in here a moment, will you?”

  Tex came running, his mouth working as he’d just shoved a piece of cheese into it, and wiping his hands on a towel. When he caught sight of their distinguished guest, he abruptly swallowed the cheese and dropped the towel.

  “This is Anna,” said Marge. “She would like to watch the footage you shot with that drone of yours.”

  “Um…” said Tex, glancing to his wife. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” he whispered.

  “I can hear you, Mr. Poole,” said Anna, “and I can assure you it’s a very good idea. Now please find it in your heart to put me out of my misery and show me the footage of my husband with this other woman.”

  Tex blinked rapidly, but then nodded and removed himself from the room. Dooley heard him stomp up the stairs, then stomp back down again, carrying a laptop and a USB stick. He proceeded to open the laptop and insert the USB stick into the computer, then place it on the living room table. Moments later, the same film started to play that Dooley had seen a part of before, on Chase’s phone.

  Anna sat there, unmoving, her face not displaying a single trace of emotion, as she watched her husband kissing a woman who clearly wasn’t her. Finally, as George looked up at the sky, and threw a rock at the drone, the film ended and Anna seemed to wipe away a small tear.

  “Thank you so much,” she said finally. “Can you please give me a copy? I need it for my divorce lawyer.”

  And she took a small USB stick from her purse and handed it to Tex, who proceeded to put a copy of the incriminating evidence on the stick, and hand it back to her. She safely tucked it away into her purse, closed it with a snap, then rose to her feet, graciously thanked all those present, and walked out, proud until the last moment.

  Marge and Tex just stood there for a few moments after Anna had left, then Marge said, “Wow. What a woman.”

  “I don’t think George will like this,” said Tex.

  “What did he expect? You can’t fool around with your neighbor’s wife and expect there won’t be consequences.”

  “So why is Anna so upset?” asked Dooley now. But Marge seemed deaf to his question, and as she disappeared into the kitchen, and Tex closed his laptop, Dooley still had no idea why everyone was behaving as if they were at a funeral.

  Lucky for him Gran walked in, eager to watch Jeopardy, and when Dooley had apprised her of the facts as they’d transpired, Gran said, “Now look, Dooley, when a woman marries a man, she expects that man to be faithful to her, see? And when that man starts cavorting with other women, it’s very painful for her to know, and even more painful to watch, see?”

  “But George is an actor, Gran,” said Dooley. “He kisses other women all the time. So why is this time different?”

  “Because this time, Dooley, he was kissing that woman for real, not just for the movie.”

  “But… doesn’t he kiss those other women in the movie for real, too?”

  Gran thought about this for a moment. “I guess you’ve got a point. Though he can always tell his wife the director made him do it.”

  “So what’s going to happen now?” asked Dooley.

  “What’s going to happen is that George will probably have a lot explaining to do.”

  16

  That night, we all waited for George to arrive and take possession of his latest hit movie, as captured by drone, but when the clock had finally struck eleven, we had to accept that he wasn’t going to show up, and it probably had something to do with his wife’s visit. First Tex and Marge decided to retire, followed by Gran, and finally Odelia and Chase returned to their home, and so did Dooley and myself, with Harriet and Brutus staying behind to keep their humans company as they chewed on the remarkable decision by Mr. Calhoun not to pick up his film.

  “His wife is probably giving him hell right now,” said Chase as we traversed the backyard and moved into our home.

  “I don’t blame her,” said Odelia. “If I caught you with our neighbor I wouldn’t like it either.”

  “You mean if you caught me on film with Kurt you would be upset?” Chase quipped.

  Kurt Mayfield is our next-door neighbor, a retired music teacher and the proud owner of a Yorkshire Terrier, who’s also a dear friend, unlikely as that may sound for a cat to consider a dog one of his best friends. But then that’s cats for you: we like to keep you on your toes!

  “Let’s go to bed,” said Odelia as she checked if she’d turned off the stove. “I’ll call George in the morning.”

  And so our humans retired for the night, and Dooley and I, after eating our fill, and taking the opportunity to make good use of our respective litter boxes, decided that now that the humans had all gone to bed, the night, which was still young, was ours, and it was time to head down to cat choir and enjoy the pleasant company of our friends.

  Once again, Odelia had been so kind to leave the door ajar, so I could slip in and out without any problems.

  As we moved into the backyard next door, to await Harriet and Brutus’s arrival so we could head out together, suddenly I became aware of a dark-clad figure placing a ladder against the wall and moving up said ladder, while a second black-clad figure was holding that ladder and making sure his or her friend wouldn’t topple over and break their neck.

  “Look, Max,” said Dooley. “Two burglars are breaking into the house.”

  He said it as if it was the most natural thing in the world. And as I watched, slack-jawed, as the twosome pushed Gran’s bedroom window open, moments later a loud cry ripped the silence of the night to shreds, and the burglar came clambering back down the same ladder and the twosome quickly skedaddled. But not before a very irate-looking Gran appeared in the upstairs window, shaking her fist and screaming, “I saw your face, Jerry Vale. And if I ever catch you it won’t be your lucky day!”

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Muffin,” a loud voice cried out in the night, and I recognized the voice as belonging to Johnny Carew, one of Gran’s friends, who unfortunately has a slightly criminal bent.

  Gran shook her head in dismay, then retracted her head, and moments later, all was quiet once more.

  But not for long, for that same ladder, which still stood against the wall, was now being used by a second burglar, who also moved up the thing, pushed open Gran’s window to crawl in, and moments later came crawling back out, looking a little the worse for wear, with Gran appearing with a hockey stick clutched in her hands, as she wielded it with practiced ease. The man was now making the short trip from the second floor to ground level in record time, as he didn’t even use the ladder but simply dropped down, landing on the lawn with a dull thud. He seemed dazed for a moment, as he just sat there, catching his breath, with Gran screaming, “You messed with the wrong woman!”

  And as the man’s mask had slipped, I now saw how the same paparazzo who’d accosted us earlier that day was hiding underneath. He scrambled to his feet, and took off, hitting the road, same way Johnny and Jerry had done.

  “Looks like a busy night for burglars, Max,” Dooley commented.

  “Yeah, looks like,” I agreed.

  “What do you think they want?”

  “Why, that film, of course. What else?”

  “But why? What’s so important about that film that everybody wants it?”

  “That paparazzo probably can sell that film for a lot of money,” I said. “And the same goes for those two crooks.”

  “Look, Max. There’s another one,” said Dooley, interrupting my train of thought.

  He was right: before our very eyes, suddenly another dark-clad person crawled up that ladder, and made his way into Gran’s room. The old lady must have been waiting for him, though, for her reaction time was getting shorter and shorter by the burglar. This time it only took her a couple of seconds to hit the guy over the head with her hockey stick, and as we watched, he performed the same ungracious landing on the backyard turf. His mask slipped, and a man we’d never seen before appeared. And as Gran found it expedient to hit him with what looked like a hockey puck, the man quickly picked himself up from the ground and took off, choosing the same route the others had taken—a sound choice, as Gran was now beyond herself with anger. “And stay out!” she screamed.

  Her cries of distress had attracted the attention of the others, for the light came on in Tex and Marge’s bedroom, who both stuck their heads out the window to see what was going on. Next door, the Trappers also appeared, Marcie and Ted, and soon Odelia and Chase also joined the minor mob scene. And while the humans discussed this unexpected crime wave, all standing on the lawn, they were joined by Kurt Mayfield, who said that he thought having a cop for a neighbor would have cut down on crime, but it now looked as if it had only made things worse instead.

  Brutus and Harriet were finally ready to go out, and so we decided to let the humans deal with the burglarious elements and enjoy a nice and relaxing time at cat choir instead.

  And as we hit the street, we first came upon Johnny and Jerry sitting in their car and discussing recent events.

  “Looks like we won’t be able to get our mitts on that film, Jer,” said Johnny, the biggest of the two crooks.

  “No thanks to you,” said Jerry, as he removed his mask. “If you hadn’t pointed me to the wrong bedroom we would have gotten away with this.”

  “I know you said we could sell that film for a million bucks, Jer, but what you forgot to mention is that it was the Pooles we needed to burgle.”

  “It doesn’t matter who we need to burgle, Johnny. Whoever’s got that film is who we need to burgle.”

  “But I like the Pooles, Jer.”

  “Well, I don’t. Every time we get involved with these people, something goes wrong, and we end up doing time.”

  And then Jerry put the car in gear and they took off.

  The next car contained the paparazzo, who was on the phone. “No, Frank, I couldn’t get my hands on that film. It’s being guarded. Yeah, I know you said you’d offer me a hundred grand, but if I can’t get it, I can’t get it. I mean, have you tried to steal something from under the nose of a cop? Huh? No? Well, I have, and it’s not a lot of fun!”

  The next car contained the dark horse in this race. He was also on the phone. “No, Tammy, I couldn’t get it. Some old broad attacked me with a hockey stick. I almost broke my neck. So next time you’ve got a great idea, you better do it yourself!” And with these words of love and devotion, he hung up the phone, then took off, tires screaming, and making a lot of noise for a man driving a car in a residential area so late at night.

  “I think it’s safe to say that was Tammy’s husband,” said Harriet.

  “The woman George was… kissing,” I said, eyeing Dooley closely.

  But he gave me a reassuring smile. “Gran explained it all to me, Max. There’s a big difference when George kisses a woman because the director tells him to, and when he kisses her without a director. In the first case he can tell his wife he won’t get paid if he doesn’t do what the director says, and in the second case he has no excuse.”

  “Well done, Dooley,” said Harriet, and patted our friend on the back. “Looks like you’re finally up to date with this whole strange episode.”

  “I like to think so,” said Dooley proudly. “Now all we need to do is find out why George didn’t show up.”

  “Because his wife found out,” said Brutus. “So now it doesn’t matter anymore.”

  Brutus was probably right. And as we went on our way, I decided I wasn’t going to let my mind wander to George and his marital issues but enjoy cat choir instead. After all, humans always have something going on, but so do cats, and why should I spend all of my valuable time worrying about their business, when I have my own stuff to deal with? Such as there are: the group of kids waiting around the corner, and uttering loud cries when they saw us!

  17

  I don’t know if you’ve ever been attacked by a pack of wild kids, but I can assure you it’s not a lot of fun!

  For one thing, kids are fast—they can run like the wind! Luckily cats are pretty fast, too. Except for me, on account of my bone situation. And so the kids would have caught up with me, if not suddenly a car had stopped at the curb, a hand had stolen out, grabbed me by the scruff of the neck, and dragged me into the vehicle.

  The door closed behind me, and as I was dumped on the backseat, the car took off with screaming tires, causing those kids to stare after us, having nothing to show for their frantic pursuit. I could hear them shout in the distance, and it sounded a lot like, “MokeMax! Come back, MokeMax!”

  Whoever or whatever MokeMax was, I was glad for the reprieve. Or at least I should have been, but when I glanced over to the driver, I saw that I was in the presence of none other than Johnny and Jerry. Now I wasn’t exactly sure if I should be relieved or alarmed, but for the moment at least I was safe from that baying pack of wild kids, so that was one thing to be grateful for.

  “Okay, we’re back in business,” said Jerry, who was behind the wheel.

  “I’m glad we saved him, Jer,” said Johnny as he turned in his seat and tickled me under the chin. “Those kids looked mean. Didn’t those kids look mean, Max? Yeah, they did. Oh, yeah, they did. Chasing you around like that.”

  I purred a little, for that was what the big lug seemed to expect.

  “And I’m glad we got some leverage,” said Jerry.

  “What do you mean, leverage?” asked Johnny.

  “You know—for the film.”

  “You’re not thinking of abducting Max, are you, Jer?”

  “We’re not abducting him. We’re just keeping him as leverage, in exchange for that film.” He glanced over to his partner. “Oh, don’t look at me like that, Johnny. It’s business—plain and simple.”

  “We can’t do that,” said the big guy. “He’s Marge’s cat, and you know how much Marge cares for the orange fatty.”

  Immediately I stopped purring. I vehemently dislike being called orange, on account of the fact that I’m blorange, not orange.

  “Look, it’s very simple. We tell Marge to hand over the film, in exchange for her cat. Easy peasy, no harm done.”

  “I don’t think we should do that, Jer,” said Johnny.

  “Who cares what you think? I’m the brains in this outfit, and you’re the brawn, or have you forgotten who gets you out of trouble each and every time?”

  “And I say you can’t do that, Jer,” said Johnny, and for once in his life the big guy was actually displaying some backbone.

  “Says who?” Jerry sneered.

  “Says me,” said Johnny decidedly.

  And to show his partner what he meant, he pressed his big foot down on the brakes, presumably pulverizing his partner’s much smaller digit, causing the latter to scream, “Hey, what do you think you’re doing, you dumbbell!”

  “I’m doing what’s right,” said Johnny. And as the car careened across the road and finally screeched to a halt, he opened the door, and said, “Out, Max. Now.”

  And as I gave him a grateful look, I did as he suggested.

  “You idiot!” said Jerry.

  “We’re not evil, Jer.”

  “He’s getting away!”

  “Good. He should get away. Run, little fellow, run home to Marge,” he urged me on.

  And so I did run. Not home to Marge, cause I just came from there, but away from the wannabe kidnappers. And I probably would have reached the park in one piece, if I hadn’t once again come upon that gang of kids. This time they looked a little dejected, after having failed to capture me. But the moment they caught sight of me, they immediately perked up. And just for the smiles on those faces I would have let them capture me—not!

  Once again, I was forced to shift into high gear, and moments later was running at full tilt, crossing backyards and making my way in the dark, those kids hot on my trail. I don’t know how they did it, but they seemed to know exactly where I was going at all times. When I swerved left, they swerved left. When I ducked right, they ducked right, too! And then it finally dawned on me: Brutus was right. They were tracking my collar. There was no other explanation! And so I finally ripped the thing from my neck and left it where it dropped, and hid underneath a rhododendron tree to see what happened next. And sure enough: the kids all gathered around the collar, their phones held out in front of them.