Jerry, however, was so caught up in his performance that he hadn’t even noticed the work was already done, and the road to freedom wide open. Instead, he kept on foaming and thrashing like there was no tomorrow. Johnny, now seriously concerned, shook his partner by the shoulder. “Jerry. Jerry! Oh, God. He’s really dying!”
So he did the only thing he could think of, which was to take the bucket of water located in the corner of their holding cell, and chuck its contents into the cop’s face, waking the man up again.
“Do something, sir!” he cried. “My partner is dying!”
The cop took a moment to get his wits together, then got up, glared at Johnny, walked out of the cell and slammed the door shut and stalked off.
“Sir? Sir!” Johnny cried. “My friend—”
“You moron!” Jerry suddenly bellowed.
Johnny wheeled around and was relieved to see his friend back in his usual form. “Jerry! You’re all right!”
“Of course I’m all right! But you won’t be all right if I get my hands on you!”
And with these words he sprang up from his position on the floor, making a miraculous recovery the likes of which humanity hasn’t witnessed since Lazarus walked out of his cave, and started chasing Johnny around the cell.
Five minutes later, when Tex Poole finally arrived, doctor’s bag in hand, he took one look at Johnny and Jerry in the midst of their morning jog, shook his head and muttered, “Did you have to make me skip my breakfast for this?” and walked off again.
Chapter 30
I was so happy that Fifi was fine that it was with a spring in my step that I passed through the little gate and back into my own backyard, Dooley in my wake.
Fifi may be a dog, and cats and dogs don’t usually mix, but Fifi is a special kind of dog, very sweet and very cuddly, and I wish her nothing but the best, and most definitely not a piece of poisoned meat!
“If these are the same people that are responsible for the other burglaries, then we have to consider the fact that you arrested the wrong guys,” said Odelia as Chase stared at the piece of poisoned meat through the clear plastic baggie he liked to use for exactly this kind of purpose.
“Yeah, probably,” he said. “Though until we find these other guys you’ll never convince your uncle to let Vale and Carew walk. And definitely not after the stunt they pulled yesterday.”
“No, I guess trying to escape wasn’t the best course of action,” Odelia admitted. She and Chase walked into the house while Dooley and I stayed out and enjoyed the pleasant sensation of the morning sun on our fur for a few moments more.
Harriet and Brutus had joined us from next door, and it was with a light heart that I explained to them what had transpired in their absence.
“Fifi poisoned,” said Harriet, looking shocked and dismayed. “You do realize this could have happened to any of us, right?”
“I’d never eat a piece of poisoned meat, though,” said Brutus. “I’d know immediately that it was poisoned and I’d tell Odelia.”
“You’re right, hubby wubby,” said Harriet. “Only dogs can be so dumb to eat a piece of poisoned meat.”
I bridled a little at this. I mean, dogs will never be my favorite pets in the world, but coming on the heels of this near-tragedy, Harriet’s words stung, and I told her in no uncertain terms what I thought of them.
She seemed chastened after my reprimand, and said, “I guess I was being a little too harsh. Dogs aren’t dumb. They’re simply… undiscerning, shall we say?”
“All right,” I conceded. “I’ll give you that. Dogs can be a little undiscerning, that’s true. Which is exactly why Fifi ate that piece of meat.”
“I actually ate that piece of meat because it tasted good,” said Fifi, now joining us.
“Oh, Fifi!” said Harriet. “I’m so glad you’re all right!”
“Not only did it taste really, really good, but it also smelled fantastic,” said Fifi ruefully. “If only I’d known…”
“Don’t beat yourself up over it,” I said. “It could have happened to anyone.”
“Only to a dumb dog like me, though,” said Fifi.
“Oh, Fifi, please don’t say that,” said Harriet, horrified that the doggie had heard her words. “I didn’t mean it like that. You’re not dumb. In fact you’re probably the smartest dog I know.”
“Yeah, not like that dummy Rufus,” Brutus scoffed.
A dog throat being cleared could be heard, and suddenly Rufus was there, giving Brutus a funny look. “I may be a dummy,” the big sheepdog said, “but my hearing is excellent.”
Brutus had the decency to blush under his fur, and muttered, “Sorry about that. I, I… I don’t know why I said that.”
“Probably because you think I’m dumb?” Rufus suggested.
“I’m sorry, Rufus,” Brutus repeated, thoroughly eating crow now. “I shouldn’t have said that. I really shouldn’t.”
“It’s all right,” said Rufus. “I know some cats talk before they think. But what’s all this about Fifi and poisoned meat?”
And since Rufus hadn’t yet been apprised of the facts pertaining to the case, Fifi proceeded to enlighten him. Soon the story would do the rounds of Hampton Cove, and every pet would be talking about what happened. In that sense pets are probably even worse than humans: we’re big on gossip. And I mean really big. In fact gossiping is pretty much all we do all day. When we’re not sleeping, eating or going to the litter box, that is.
And since one thing leads to another, soon Harriet was telling Fifi and Rufus all about my recent encounter with the Roomba, and much to both dogs’ delight, describing in graphic detail how I jumped on top of the thing, riding it like a cowboy riding a bronco, and managed to wear the thing down and bring home a smashing victory for Team Cats.
I think I can speak for all of us when I say that we were feeling much better when we finally returned indoors.
My happiness wasn’t to last, though, for the moment I stepped through the pet flap I became aware of a new challenge having infiltrated our home in the form of a dumpy woman, her black hair in a bob, giving us the evil eye the moment we entered the house.
“Max, Dooley,” said Odelia. “Meet Blanche. Blanche is our new cleaner. She’ll come in three mornings a week to keep our house spic and span. Isn’t that right, Blanche?”
“Are you sure it’s a good idea to allow cats into your home?” asked Blanche in a raspy voice I immediately recognized as belonging to a heavy smoker.
“Oh, but Max and Dooley are very clean,” Odelia assured the cleaner.
“Mh,” said Blanche, clearly not a cat person. “Where I come from cats are strictly forbidden to enter the house. They are, after all, creatures of the night, and are out and about catching mice, and when they’re not out and about catching mice they’re sleeping on the porch.”
“In the winter, too?” asked Odelia, horrified by the prospect of her cats freezing their tushies off.
“Cats are tough and hardened creatures,” said Blanche. “They’re used to the cold. That’s why they got fur. Now where do you want me to start?”
And as Odelia explained to Blanche the ins and outs of the house, and where she could find the necessary cleaning supplies, Dooley and I exchanged a horrified look.
“I don’t like this, Max,” said Dooley, indicating we were on the same page where Blanche was concerned.
And when I glanced over into the living room and saw a huge vacuum cleaner—the industrial kind that can suck an entire star system into its belly without batting an eye—I shivered and said, “I don’t like it either, Dooley.”
I mean, that vacuum cleaner was all gleaming chrome and HUGE!
And as I studied this new enemy, it almost seemed to be grinning at me, and daring me to jump on top of it and ride it like a bucking bronco.
I had the impression it would sooner ride me than me it!
Chapter 31