I’d already given this fly the evil eye, but the darn thing didn’t seem to be all that quick on the uptake, and just kept at it. Giving it the cold shoulder didn’t help either, and so finally I saw no other recourse than to swat at the annoying thing, making my displeasure known not only in word but also in deed.
“Hey, cool your jets, bro!” said the fly, and buzzed off to rob some other pet of sleep.
And so I finally closed my eyes to pick up where I left off when something else intruded upon my much-yearned-for peace and quiet.
Gran came stalking in through the sliding glass door and slammed a newspaper down right next to me, then proceeded to take a seat—unbidden, I might add.
“Will you look at that!” she exclaimed, causing me to suppress a groan of annoyance and direct a casual glance at said newspaper.
“What is it?” I asked, not in the mood for reading an entire newspaper article and preferring to get the gist straight from the horse’s mouth—in this case my human’s gran.
“It’s that no-good son of mine,” the old lady announced, clearly not all that happy with whatever that son of hers had been up to this time. For those of you not in the know, Gran’s son is none other than Alec Lip, chief of police in our neck of the woods.
“What did he do?” I asked, more out of politeness and the faint but diminishing hope that this would speed up the process of getting Gran to take her leave and leave me to my hopes and dreams of that catnap I’d been looking so forward to.
“He says he’s going to get married! Married, if you please!”
I yawned. “Isn’t that a good thing?”
“Not in the same year my granddaughter is tying the knot it isn’t!” said Gran. She poked a finger at the newspaper, causing it to crumple. “He’s stealing Odelia’s thunder, that’s what he’s doing! How dare he!”
“So maybe you can organize a double wedding? Would save you time and money.”
“A double wedding!” Gran cried, clearly aghast at the prospect. “Never in my life will I attend this wedding. Never, you hear me!”
“I hear you,” I said, wincing a little, for Gran was even more voluble than usual.
Dooley, who’d been attracted by all the hullabaloo, came prancing over from the pantry, where he’d done his business in his litter box. I could tell he’d done number two, for he had that distinct spring in his step and that merry gleam in his eye he gets when successfully managing to exorcise the product of his mastication and digestion process.
“What’s going on?” he asked when he saw Gran’s unhappy face. “Did someone die?”
“No, but someone soon will,” said Gran with a dark frown at the newspaper.
“Oh, no!” said Dooley, his face falling. “I didn’t even know you were sick, Gran. Is it cancer? Or old age?”
Gran gave my best friend a withering look that would have made a more discerning cat wince. “I’m not dying. And for your information, I’m not old. It’s my son.”
“Oh, no! Does Uncle Alec have cancer?”
“Nobody has cancer!” she cried. “He’s getting married!”
Dooley gave me a look of confusion. Usually when humans get married it’s cause for cheer, the prospect of a party making everyone happy. But Gran seemed to liken the occasion to a funeral, which was a novel way of looking at the sacred institution.
“Oh, I get it,” said Dooley. “Uncle Alec is sick and dying and he wants to get married before he dies.” He shook his head sadly. “I liked Uncle Alec. I’ll be sad when he’s gone.”
“Please talk some sense into your friend, Max,” said Gran. “I don’t have the patience.”
“Uncle Alec isn’t dying, Dooley,” I explained. “He’s getting married, and Gran isn’t happy about it.”
“But why?” asked Dooley, an understandable question. But then his face cleared. “Oh, I know! Charlene is pregnant! And Uncle Alec doesn’t want her to have the baby out of wedlock. Just like in that Lifetime movie we saw last week, when Derek the company boss had to marry his secretary Francine when she announced she was pregnant, only she wasn’t pregnant, and only said she was so he would marry her. And then when he found out she wasn’t pregnant after all, he immediately had the wedding annulled.”
Gran gave Dooley a pointed look. “You know, Dooley, that’s something that hadn’t occurred to me. But you’re right. It’s the only possible explanation. Charlene must be expecting a baby. Why else would they suddenly announce their wedding plans?”
“Or it could be that Charlene is dying of cancer,” Dooley suggested. “And Uncle Alec wants her to die as his wife.”
The prospect of her son’s betrothed dying a slow and painful death seemed to please Gran, but then she shook her head. “Nah. He would have told me if she was sick.” She shrugged. “Which means I’m going to be a grandma soon.”
“But… aren’t you a grandma already, Gran?” asked Dooley.
“I hope it’s a boy,” said Gran, ignoring Dooley. “Or twins. A boy and a girl, maybe.”
Dooley gave me a look of supreme worry. For some reason he has this idea that if a newborn enters our family, they’ll get rid of all the cats. And no matter how many times I’ve assured him this is simply not the case, he keeps coming back to the horrifying notion.
“Anyway,” said Gran, getting up and grabbing her newspaper. “Just thought I’d let you know. I can’t tell the rest of the family how I feel about this wedding nonsense, so I hope you’ll keep your mouths shut. Not a word to Alec, you hear? Or the others, for that matter.”
“My lips are sealed, Gran,” I said.
“Your lips look fine to me, Max,” said Dooley, studying my lips intently.
“It’s just an expression, Dooley,” I said. “It means I won’t tell anyone what Gran just told us.”
“That goes for you, too, Dooley,” said Gran. “If word gets out that the groom’s mom opposes the wedding, there will be hell to pay.”
And with these words, she stomped off again, her face a thundercloud.
Somehow I had the feeling it wouldn’t be long before the entire town of Hampton Cove would know exactly how Gran felt about the wedding. We might be able to keep our mouths shut, but would Gran?
Chapter Two
“So… let me get this straight,” said Dooley. “Uncle Alec is getting married to his girlfriend because she’s dying? Or because he’s dying? Or because she’s pregnant?”
“I have no idea, Dooley,” I said, still holding out a faint hope to have that nap.
“Or maybe Charlene is dying and she’s pregnant!” His furry face fell. “I hope she’ll be able to deliver the baby before she dies, Max.”
“I’m sure that Uncle Alec and Charlene are simply getting married because they love each other,” I said. “And that there is no pregnancy and that no one is dying.”
“Or it could be that Uncle Alec is pregnant,” said Dooley, my reassurances landing on deaf ears as usual. “He looks like he’s pregnant, with that very big belly of his.”
“Uncle Alec is pregnant?!” suddenly a cry sounded from the kitchen. I looked up and saw that Harriet and Brutus had arrived, the other two cats that make up our household.
Brutus is a butch black cat, and also Harriet’s boyfriend, who’s a white Persian. They both looked flabbergasted by this piece of news.
“Uncle Alec can’t be pregnant,” I said with a laugh. “Men don’t get pregnant, you guys.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure about that, Max,” said Brutus. “Nowadays everybody can get pregnant.”
“He’s right,” said Dooley. “I saw a documentary on the Discovery Channel the other night about a man who delivered a healthy baby boy.”
“So let me get this straight,” said Harriet. “Uncle Alec is pregnant… with a boy?”
I heaved a deep sigh. I had a feeling I wasn’t going to get any naptime anytime soon with this lot launching into a discussion on my human’s uncle being pregnant.