“And also, Little John pooped in our rose bushes,” said Harriet sadly.
“And Little Janine pooped in Max’s litter box,” Brutus supplied with a grin.
“Uh-huh?” said Odelia. “Is that a fact?”
I had the impression she hadn’t really paid a lot of attention to what we said, and I now saw she had dark rings under her eyes, presumably from a lack of sleep. Cats sleep all the time, you see, in the sense that we take what we can get as far as sleep is concerned. Humans, on the other hand, have this fixed idea that they can only sleep at night, and when they don’t, they simply go through their day like a somnambulist—or the walking dead, whatever the case may be.
“She looks tired, Max,” said Dooley, who had noticed the same phenomenon.
“She looks exhausted,” said Harriet.
“She looks dead on her feet,” said Brutus.
“It’s the Airbnb,” I said. “It must be tough having to deal with these guests.“
I know it was certainly tough on us. Harriet and Brutus’s favorite spot would never be the same again—dog excrement leaves a particularly nasty smell that is very hard to get rid of. And also, it’s hard to get in the mood for sweet luvin’ when everything around you smells like dog poo. My litter box was most definitely ruined now and I probablywould never be able to go again—what cat likes to go where a dog has gone before? Certainly not me! And if I wasn’t mistaken Little Janine and her little brother Little John had eaten all of our food.
Proof of this was when Dooley returned from the kitchen moments later, having ventured there for a quick session of stress-eating, and cried,“They’ve eaten all of our food!”
“Of course they have,” Brutus grunted.
“I thought they said they didn’t like it!” said Dooley.
“Even people who are used to five-star restaurants like to go to McDonald’s from time to time, Dooley,” I said. When he simply stared at me, not comprehending, I explained, “If what Little John and Little Janine are used to can be described as five-star meals then the food we get is more akin to a McDonald’s Happy Meal.” When he still stared at me, puzzled, I explained even further, “We eat what your average gourmet would call comfort food, and even though comfort food isn’t what a foodie would recommend, they still enjoy it when they can.”
Dooley blinked, then reiterated,“but they ate all of our food, Max!”
I sighed.“Yes, Dooley. And I’m sure Odelia has plenty more in store.”
We glanced up at Odelia in hopeful anticipation, but when she simply stared back at us with unseeing eyes, it was obvious that our food situation was dire.
Stomping feet on the stairwell told us that we were no longer alone—then again, when you’re living in an Airbnb, are you ever truly alone?
Janine Boggle appeared, waving what looked like a pillowcase.“What kind of laundry detergent did you use to wash these, Odelia? They smell awful.”
“Tide pods,” said Odelia in a toneless voice.
“Well, I can tell you right now that John won’t get a wink of sleep on these. He’s allergic to all synthetic fragrances. You’ll simply have to give them another wash. And the sheets, too, of course, and the mattress cover, while we’re at it.”
Odelia nodded, and Janine frowned.“Oh, and can you ask your daughter to keep her voice down. John is on a Zoom call, and all this screaming is making it hard for him to focus. Thanks!” she ended on a chipper tone, and was off again.
“Tough business, the Airbnb business,” said Harriet, putting into words what we were all thinking.
The sliding glass door slid open and Marge walked in. Her face was flushed, presumably in the aftermath of her discussion with her builder husband.“I’m here,” she announced, quite unnecessarily, I thought, for we could see she was there. “How is it going?”
“I’m so glad you came,” said Odelia, getting up with some effort. “I don’t know where my head’s at.”
“Your head is on your shoulders, silly,” Dooley laughed, but Odelia hadn’t heard, for Grace had once again decided to loudly voice her discontent. “Can you look after her for a while? John is on a Zoom call and he can’t focus. Oh, and I have some beddings to wash.” She frowned. “Do you have fragrance-free detergent?”
Marge gave her daughter an odd look.“Who are these people again?”
“Friends of Tessa Torrance and Prince Dante. John is Prime Minister of England and Janine is his wife.”
“But… what are they doing here is what I’d like to know.”
Odelia shrugged.“To be absolutely honest it’s a mystery to me, too.”
“Honey, are you sure you’re up to this? I thought you were going to take it easy for a while? Enjoy those first weeks of blessed motherhood?“
“I thought so, too, but Tessa insisted ours was the best place for John and Janine right now, so…” She blew a strand of hair from her eyes.
“What does Chase say?”
“He doesn’t know yet.”
“Oh, dear.”
“He’s been so busy with this new case. I hadn’t the heart to tell him. You know how he is. He’d drop his case and come running and that’s the last thing I want.”
“But—“
“I’ll tell him when he gets here.”
“All right,” said Marge as she took Grace from Odelia’s arms. “I guess you know best.” Immediately the baby stopped wailing and was soon glancing around with distinct interest.
“Hey, baby,” I said, waving at the newborn. “My name is Max and these are my friends: Dooley, Harriet and Brutus.”
“Hi, tiny human,” Brutus growled.
“She does have a name, you know,” said Harriet, and smiled up at the baby. “Hey, Grace. Can you understand what we’re saying? You are a Poole, aren’t you?”
But baby Grace didn’t speak. Instead, she drooled, which I guess is also a form of communication.
“Babies don’t immediately start speaking,” said Dooley knowingly. “I saw that on the Discovery Channel. It takes a couple of years.”
“Years!” Harriet cried. “But why!”
“Because humans are slow,” Brutus grunted. “Everybody knows that.”
“Yeah, it takes them years to start talking, and years to start walking,” said Dooley, “and years to start riding a bike, and years to start driving a car. It’s a very, very,very slow process. Like watching paint dry.”
“Give me kittens any day,” Harriet murmured. “Much quicker on the uptake.”
“And a lot cuter, too,” Brutus grumbled.
“Would you call kittens cuter?” I said. I thought Grace looked pretty cute. All pink and round and shiny with health and vigor.
“Definitely,” said Brutus. “Nothing beats kittens when it comes to the cuteness factor.”
“I’m so tired,” said Odelia, rubbing her face. “But if I lie down I know I’ll fall asleep and wake up twelve hours from now.”
“Give me those beddings,” said Marge. “I have a load to wash anyway.”
“No synthetic fragrances, though,” said Odelia. “Or fabric softeners.”
Marge rolled her eyes.“Between Tex demolishing our garden house and your lodgers this is turning out to be one heck of a day.”
Odelia frowned.“Does this have anything to do with the spa you’re building?”
Marge laughed.“Spa? What are you talking about? We’re building a second bathroom.” And when Odelia simply stared at her in wordless surprise, she continued, “With your grandmother hogging the bathroom every morning we had to do something. So we decided to turn the garden house into a bathroom. Only now Tex has gone and demolished it, figuring it wasn’t sturdy enough. I just hope he’ll be able to build that bathroom. Which reminds me—when Chase comes in, can you ask him if he’s got a couple of hours to spare this weekend?”
“Sure thing, Mom,” said Odelia, and yawned cavernously.
“Go and lie down,” said Marge encouragingly. “You need it. Or better yet, come and crash at our place. With these Boggles you won’t get a wink of sleep.”
And so three generations of Poole women walked out of the house, and then it was just us… and those fearful Boggles! Which is why we quickly followed suit.