We don’t bother them, and they don’t bother us. Peaceful coexistence if you will.
But Harriet was already on her way over, and so we followed. We couldn’t very well backtrack now, even though Shanille herself had suddenly turned a little thoughtful at this denouement.
“Are you sure this is a good idea, Max?” she asked as we stepped into Marge and Tex’s backyard.
“I think it’s a terrible idea,” I said, not mincing my words. “But you know what’s an even worse idea? To try and stop Harriet once her mind is made up about something.”
“Yeah, I know,” said Shanille. “Remember I tried to take away her solo spot on the choir? She hasn’t stopped bugging me about it since. I’m starting to think I could have saved myself a lot of trouble if I’d simply let her keep it.”
“That’s generally the best way to deal with Harriet,” I agreed.
“Hey, you guys,” said Dooley, “do you realize that CCREC sounds like CRACK? Isn’t that funny?”
“Very funny, Dooley,” I said.
“Because we’re going to teach dogs to clean their—”
“Let’s keep it civil, Dooley,” said Shanille reproachfully.
“I was going to say back,” said Dooley. “As in backside?”
“Oh, that’s all right then.”
“Thanks, Shanille, and can I just say I think it’s wonderful what you’re trying to do? I stepped in dog doo just the other day and I didn’t like it. It was soft and squishy at first, but then it was stinky and horrible the next. Max had to help me clean it off, and it took a long time and it involved sticking my paw in a puddle of water, and it wasn’t a lot of fun.”
“It happened to me, too, Dooley,” said Shanille, “so I can definitely relate.”
“And then when it didn’t come off, we had to tell Odelia, and she decided to give me a bath and I hate taking a bath, don’t you? Water is so wet!”
“Water generally is very wet,” Shanille agreed.
“The dog doo had gotten stuck between my claws and my little pink pads, and Odelia had to use tissues and even a toothbrush at some point, and it tickled!”
“I can only imagine,” Shanille muttered.
“And then she had to throw away the toothbrush because she said she couldn’t use it anymore after she’d used it on me to clean away all of that dog excrement—I love that word dog excrement, don’t you, Shanille? Dog excrement. It’s such a funny word. I didn’t understand what she meant at first, but now I do. Dog excrement. So funny.”
“Oh, Dooley,” Shanille groaned, and I think she already regretted dropping by.
We’d finally reached the fence that divides Tex and Marge’s backyard from Marcie and Ted’s, and Harriet loudly said, “Rufus, oh, Rufus, where art thou?”
Unfortunately there is no hole in the fence, but there is a nice garden table on which us cats can jump to have a good overview of the backyard next door, so we did so now.
Rufus, who’d come lumbering up, directed a curious glance in our direction. He didn’t need a table to step on, as he can easily look across the fence. Yes, he’s that big. “Oh, hey, Harriet—hey, guys. So nice to see you. How are you?”
“Rufus, we need to talk,” said Harriet, adopting her best re-educationary voice.
“Oh, sure, Harriet,” said Rufus. “Anytime. Oh, hey, Shanille. Haven’t seen you around in a while. Everything all right? Father Reilly doing okay? Good. That’s great to hear.”
“He’s very nice,” said Dooley.
“Yes, he is very nice,” I agreed. Rufus is probably one of the nicest dogs we know.
“So the thing is, Rufus,” said Harriet, deciding not to get sidetracked by all this waffle from the peanut gallery, “that you left a horrible mess on the sidewalk just now.”
“I did? I wasn’t aware—I’m so sorry, Harriet. I’m truly very, very sorry.”
“Apology accepted, but that doesn’t change the fact that people are going to step in the product of your defecation. So here’s my suggestion. Why don’t you learn to go on the potty? It’s clean, it’s pleasant, and it’s a much better solution for everyone involved.”
“The… potty? What do you mean, Harriet? What is this potty you’re talking about?”
“Well, I don’t know if you’re familiar with the concept of the litter box?”
“I think I’ve heard about it, but I’ve never actually seen one,” said Rufus.
“Max. Please explain to Rufus what a litter box is,” said Harriet.
I stared at her. I’d had no idea she’d penciled me in for a starring role in this little pantomime of hers.
“Well, go on, then. Tell him.”
I cleared my throat. “A litter box is literally a box filled with litter, Rufus. You, um, do your business inside the box, and the litter absorbs all the annoying odors and whatnot. And then when it comes time to clean out the box, all your humans have to do is scoop out the affected litter, deposit it in a little plastic bag—or, in your case, a very large plastic bag—and put it out on trash day for garbage collection.”
“Easy-peasy, and so much fun!” said Harriet.
“It does sound like fun,” Rufus agreed. “And where can I find these litter boxes?”
“Um… I guess you’ll have to discuss that with your human,” said Harriet. “For your size and shape I’d advise the extra-large model. Possibly the extra extra extra large.”
“I’m not sure they have litter boxes for a dog of Rufus’s size,” I told Harriet.
“I’m not so sure either,” said Shanille, as she took in the voluminous mass of dog.
“Doesn’t matter,” said Harriet. “If people want litter boxes in Rufus’s size, the companies producing litter boxes will produce them. It is simply a matter of supply and demand. Now scoot and don’t forget to tell your human, Rufus.”
“Um… there’s only one problem with that,” said Rufus.
“Oh? And what’s that?”
“I can’t talk to my human.”
“Mh…” I could tell that Harriet was stumped for a moment. She turned to us and said, “Ad hoc meeting of the CCREC. How do we get dogs to tell their humans to buy them a litter box?”
It was a tough one, and for a moment we were all stumped, then suddenly Dooley said, “We could ask Gran to join the CCREC. And then she can tell the dog owners.”
“Excellent idea, Dooley!” said Harriet, and turned back to Rufus, who still stood eyeing us with a kindly expression on his furry face. “For now, try to familiarize yourself with the concept of the litter box, Rufus.”
“Like an Olympian,” said Dooley.
“Tell him, Dooley,” said Harriet encouragingly. “Tell Rufus how it is.”
“Well,” said Dooley, “Olympians visualize their victories. So you have to visualize stepping into the litter box, being inside the litter box, doing your business in the litter box… basically being the litter box.”
“Being the litter box,” said Rufus, nodding. “Gotcha.”
Harriet beamed and patted Dooley on the head, not unlike a circus director whose monkey has just performed a complicated trick.
Chapter 6
As Chase made his way to the copy machine, he noticed to his surprise how Dolores was seated behind one of the desks in the main office, going through a stack of files. He approached the desk sergeant. “Dolores? What are you doing? Shouldn’t you be behind your desk?”
“The Mayor told me to go and sit here,” she said in her typical smoker’s rasp. Her mascara was prominently applied, as usual, making her more than a little scary-looking.
“The Mayor? What do you mean?”
“He came by earlier and told me to sit here. When I asked him what I was supposed to do, he said to figure something out to keep me busy until he could arrange for my early retirement, so I just thought I’d do some filing. There’s always filing to be done.”