Walt shrugged.
“You KNEW? And you didn’t say ANYTHING?”
Walt shrugged again.“I didn’t know it was a secret. They were right there on the shelf. You went in the office. They weren’t hidden.”
Butterbean’s jaw dropped. “I’m SHORT. I’m a SHORT DOG. I don’t see things up high. YOU KNOW THAT.”
“Well, I’m sorry. I’m telling you now. We’ve got rats.”
“Yes, so I understand. Rat One and Rat Two,” Butterbean grumbled. “And those are just the ones we can SEE.”
“Marco!”
“Polo!”
Butterbean whipped her head around and glared at the aquarium.“EXCUSE ME?”
“I’m Marco,” said Rat One (aka Colleen).
“And I’m Polo,” said Rat Two (aka Elizabeth).
“We don’t really go by Rat One and Rat Two, no matter what that guy says.”
“Or Colleen and Elizabeth. That guy is bonkers.”
“Totally.” Marco rolled his eyes.
“Totally,” Polo echoed, making twirly “crazy” motions next to her head.
“Well, yeah.” Butterbean had to agree there. They may be infesting the office, but those rats weren’t stupid.
“Ahem.”
The animals immediately stopped their conversation and stared up at the girl, who was looking at them with a puzzled expression.“Are they always this… chatty?”
Bob shrugged and handed her Butterbean’s leash. “How would I know? Mice squeak, right? They’re chatty. Dogs too, I guess.”
“Rats,” Marco and Polo said in unison. “Not mice.”
“Right.” The girl frowned. She clipped the leash onto Butterbean’s collar.
“Bean,” Oscar said in a low voice. “Be careful. Observe everything. Urgent house meeting when you return.”
“Okay,” Butterbean said, trying hard to control her tail. It was her natural instinct to start wagging when the leash went on, but it didn’t seem appropriate this time, somehow.
“House meeting,” she said as she trotted to the door, girl in tow. “Urgent meeting. Got it.”
“Urgent,” Oscar said as the door shut behind them. “Because if what Bob just said is true, I was right. We’re all in serious trouble.”
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4
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BUTTERBEAN WAS DOING HER JAUNTY walk when she came back. Tail wagging, high bouncing, the whole bit. Oscar was disgusted.
Butterbean obviously didn’t understand how serious their situation was. Oscar averted his eyes as Butterbean licked the girl on the hand and then bounced on into the living room.
“Hoo! What a workout!” Butterbean flopped down onto the carpet as the girl left the apartment. Oscar gave her a disapproving look, but she didn’t seem to notice.
“That girl goes so much faster than Mrs. Food! My legs were flying!” Butterbean went on, tongue lolling out of her mouth.
Oscar cleared his throat.“Yes, well, obviously. Mrs. Food was older, and susceptible to falls. I’m surprised you didn’t realize that. Especially in light of recent events.”
“Right. Falls.” Butterbean snuffled in embarrassment. “Look, I SAID I was SORRY, okay?” She wished she hadn’t said anything. She was never going to live that barf down.
Walt put a paw on Butterbean’s back. “It’s fine. Now, what happened while you were out there? Did you see or hear anything? Do you have any new information?”
Butterbean looked at the ceiling while she thought. It was important to focus so she wouldn’t forget anything. She didn’t want to mess this up too. “Yeeess. There was something. They’re using a new cleaner on the rugs—it’s very strong. I think it’s supposed to be a floral smell? I don’t like it.”
Oscar raised an eyebrow at Walt.“Okay, that’s new. And?”
“I saw Biscuit from the second floor. He has a new haircut. You can see his eyes again. It’s a good look.”
Walt refused to even glance at Oscar.“And?”
Butterbean considered for a minute.“Well… there’s been a lot of activity at the trash can out front. Mostly Biscuit, I think, but I think someone new had been by too. OH! And the doorman had a hamburger from a fast food place. I smelled the wrapper. Extra onions. No cheese, though.” Butterbean looked at them hopefully. “Does that help?”
Walt shot Oscar a warning look.“Yes, thank you. Anything about Mrs. Food?”
Butterbean frowned.“Well, no.”
“Did the girl say anything?”
Butterbean perked up.“Yes. But it was mostly ‘hurry up’ and ‘do your business.’ I don’t think she was talking about Mrs. Food. It was all very cryptic.”
“Yes. A mystery,” Oscar sighed.
Walt turned to Oscar.“So now what?”
“Emergency meeting,” Oscar said. “Now I’m not going to pretend our situation isn’t bad. But we shouldn’t overreact. We just need to determine how bad.”
“It’s more than bad,” Walt said, slowly licking a paw. “It’s really bad.”
Oscar rolled his eyes.“Well, maybe not. I saw a news story just the other day about a dog who lost his person, and he inherited millions of dollars. Millions! He even inherited a new person to take care of him!”
“Lucky dog. What’s your point?” Walt didn’t even pause in her licking.
“Mrs. Food is very responsible—I’m sure she’s made provisions for us.”
Walt shook her head.“Nope. Sorry.”
Oscar looked hurt.“Walt, surely it’s worth a look. There are probably papers.”
Walt stopped licking.“No, it’s not. Because yes, there are papers, and no, we’re not in them.”
“What? How do you know?” Butterbean gasped. This conversation was moving too fast for her. Walt should have given a spoiler alert at least.
“I live in the office, people. You think I don’t go through her papers? It gets boring around here. I’ve been through everything in there at least three times. I know her passwords. I know her secrets.”
“Mrs. Food has secrets?” Butterbean gasped again. She couldn’t believe she’d been so blind. First the rats, now secrets? The whole day had just been one cruel blow after another.
“Well, no, that’s my point. Mrs. Food has no secrets from me. She also has no provisions for us. She’s only made provisions for the Feral Cats Charitable Foundation andDog Fancy Magazine. And unless I’m mistaken, that’s not us.”
“But… but…” Oscar sputtered. He thought he’d considered everything. He had a carefully planned set of talking points. His whole speech was ruined. Oscar’s feathers drooped. “Well, then I don’t know what to say. We’re not overreacting. We’re doomed.”
“We’re not doomed,” Walt said. “We have options. We just need to make a plan.”
“But how?” Butterbean said. “What is there to do?” If Oscar said they were doomed, they were pretty much doomed.
Walt twitched her tail.“Like I said, I know Mrs. Food’s secrets. I can use her computer. I’m not a fast typist, but I can do it. I can order things online. At least I think I can.”
“What things? Toys?” Butterbean wagged her tail so hard that her butt almost lifted off the floor. She loved new toys.
“I was thinking food. We can have things delivered. That will tide us over until her credit card runs out, at least. All we have to do is figure out a way to open the door and get the boxes.”
Oscar shook his head.“That only works if we can get Bob off our backs. Whatever we do, we have to do it fast. In a week.”
“Give or take,” Butterbean said solemnly. “More or less.”
“I’ll deal with Bob,” Walt said, her eyes gleaming. “I could go for the eyes. Still an option.”
“Yes. Well.” Oscar cleared his throat. “Even with Bob out of the way, as I see it, our options are limited. Option one? Get jobs. Or option two, become independently wealthy. Personally, I prefer option two.”
“I could get a job!” Butterbean said. “I’ve seen the commercials, work from home! I’m at home, I could work. Maybe I could do that?”
Oscar shifted on his perch.“That’s a nice thought, Butterbean, but what kind of work do you think you could do?”