“I see,” said Gran quietly. “Yeah, that doesn’t sound like the kind of answer I’d hope to get.”
“Did you ask her anything?” asked Mom.
“Not yet, but I’m thinking about it,” said Gran, gritting her teeth a little. “In fact I think I’m going to write her a nice big letter first thing tomorrow. And if she tells me I should make Alec run for mayor I just might go over there and give her a punch in the snoot.”
“Go where?” asked Odelia. “Gabi lives in the Midwest.”
But Gran was already walking out of the kitchen to go and watch Jeopardy.
Chapter 29
That night, instead of stepping out and going to the park to hang out with my friends, I decided to stay in and guard Odelia’s bedroom. I may not be as keen on swallowing down mice like Clarice or Jasmine, but that doesn’t mean I’ll stand idly by while they deposit the products of their digestive process on my human’s pillowcase.
So I’d jumped up on the bed and decided to be vigilant. If a mouse came sneaking into the room to do its dirty deed under the cover of nightfall, I’d simply jump on top of it and make sure it thought twice before giving the dastardly scheme a second thought.
And so it was that I was soon snoring away to my heart’s content. What? It’s hard to have to listen to two humans fast asleep nearby and not fall asleep yourself, too.
It must have been the middle of the night when I woke up from a strange sound, and I gave my friend Dooley a poke in the ribs.
“But how do you keep it so white, Jasmine—what?” he said, awakening with a start.
“I think I heard something,” I said. “Listen.”
He listened, and so did I. And there it was again. A soft trip-trip-tripping sound.
He whispered, “I hear a tripping sound, Max. Like tiny little feet.”
“Yeah, me too.”
So we both dropped down from the bed and tiptoed into the corridor to see what was going on.
And as we looked down from the landing and into the living room below, the most horrendous sight greeted our eyes: dozens and dozens of mice were forming a long conga line that stretched all the way to the kitchen, and were raiding the fridge, items of food being carried back to the basement!
“No way!” I cried, and was already starting down the stairs before having come up with a strategy of campaign.
Napoleon Bonaparte would have told me that engaging in battle without a proper plan of action is usually a bad idea, and he would have been right. By the time I was downstairs, the mice had all disappeared, and so had the food!
“They must have heard me,” I said, panting as Dooley joined me in the kitchen.
The fridge was open, and it was practically empty, the kitchen a mess. The cheeky little buggers had even gnawed a hole in our bag of kibble, and absconded with a fair amount! Obviously the mice had done themselves well, and all of it under our noses!
“That’s it,” I told Dooley. “I can’t stand this anymore!” And I made for the basement.
“What are you going to do, Max?” he cried.
“I have no idea, but I have to do something! Put my paw down, at the very least.”
So I descended the wooden stairs into the darkness, and quickly saw that I was on enemy terrain: dozens of beady little eyes were blinking back at me in the semi-darkness, and I could even hear giggling and snickering.
“Hey, Tom,” said one of the mice. “Come to pay us a visit, have you?”
“My name is Max,” I said, “Not Tom.”
“And my name is Dooley,” said Dooley.
“I want to speak to your leader,” I said, looking around for the biggest, meanest mouse of the bunch.
“We don’t have a leader,” said one of the mice. “But we do have a pa. Pa!” he hollered. “There’s someone here to see you!”
And there he was: a big and hairy mouse, though not the biggest of the bunch, as I’d surmised.
“What do you want?” he asked, not all that friendly.
“I want you to vacate these premises at once,” I said. “This is not your home, and I want you to leave. All of you. Now.”
More laughter and more snickers. “Look, this is our home just as much as it is yours, cat,” said the mouse.
“No, it’s not. Odelia has taken us in, she’s adopted us. She never adopted you lot.”
“Well, like it or not, we’re here to stay.”
“Look, this can’t go on like this. First the poo, and now the fridge. This is too much!”
He frowned. “Poo? What poo?”
“The poo on the stairs. First one poo, and then a dozen, and tomorrow probably a hundred!”
The mouse glanced around at his flock, and said, in a stern kind of voice, “What’s all this about poo on steps, kids?”
“Oh, it was just a joke, Pa,” said one of the smaller mice.
“Yeah, just joshing,” said another.
“Look, we run a clean house,” said the mouse, “and there will be no pooping on stairs, all right? Do I make myself clear?”
Another mouse came joining the first one, emerging from a tiny hole in the wall, right next to the bicycle Chase had once put there, with a view to one day restoring it.
“What’s all this shouting, Pa?” asked the newcomer. “I can’t sleep for all the noise.”
“Ma, your kids have been very naughty,” said the mouse called Pa.
“They’re your kids, too, Pa.” She sighed. “What have they done this time?”
“Well, cat? What have they done?” asked Pa.
“They’ve pooped on the basement stairs,” said Dooley.
“By all accounts not a nice thing to do,” I added.
“No, that’s not very nice at all. Kids, what have I always told you?” said Ma.
“No pooping in the house,” dozens of mice dutifully intoned.
“So what’s this I hear about you misbehaving?”
“We’re sorry, Ma,” said one of the mice.
“It won’t happen again,” said another.
“Damn skippy it won’t happen again. Cause if it does, I’ll spank your bottoms so hard you won’t be able to sit on your tails for a week!”
“And then there’s the matter of the fridge,” I pointed out.
“What fridge? What are you talking about?” asked Pa.
“Your offspring were just raiding the fridge, emptying it out.”
“Kids!” bellowed Pa. “Is this true?”
“Yeah, Pa,” said one of his kids.
“Just having a midnight snack,” said another.
“Midnight cravings are no excuse to go and steal food!” said Pa.
“Your pa and I provide you with plenty of nutritious food so you don’t have to go out and steal from the nice people inhabiting this house,” said his wife.
“Yes, Ma. Yes, Pa,” said the kids, sounding annoyed to be told off in front of two cats.
“Now if there’s nothing else, I’d like to go back to sleep, cat,” said Ma.
“My name is Max, by the way,” I said, starting to see I’d totally misread these mice.
“And I’m Dooley,” said Dooley.
“I’m Helga, and this is Hector, and we run a clean house with strict rules. No pooping on steps, no stealing of food, no chewing on computer cables. We provide our kids a nutritious diet consisting of berries and seeds we source from the backyard, insects and beetles we find inside, and in so doing keep your house free of bugs and roaches and suchlike pests. We believe in paying our dues and being a credit to any homeowner.”
“Yeah, we don’t want any trouble, Max,” said Hector. “And I apologize for my kids’ appalling behavior. They’re a little rambunctious sometimes, but they’re good kids.”
“I’d like to add it’s very good of you to keep us informed of what they’ve been up to,” said Helga with a nod. “There’s so many of them it’s hard to keep track sometimes.”