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I woke up from the sound of distinct mewling. Not so unusual, you might say, since I live in a house occupied by no less than four cats—though technically three of those cats live next door, even though they do spend an awful lot of time at Odelia’s. But this mewling was different than the usual sounds my three feline friends Dooley, Harriet and Brutus make. This was more like the mewling of… kittens. And since to my knowledge Odelia has not and hopefully will never take in kittens, this struck me as particularly odd.

Discounting the sound and ascribing it to a bad dream, I attempted to go back to sleep, turning over to my other side at the foot of Odelia’s bed, closing my eyes once more.

But the mewling persisted.

With a frown, I pricked up my ears.

No mistake. It definitely was mewling, and it seemed to come from downstairs.

With a sigh of extreme reluctance, for I love to sleep, I dragged my blorange self up from the soft, warm, comfy comforter, and dropped to the hardwood floor below.

My human wasn’t up yet, judging from the even breathing, only interrupted by an occasional snuffle, coming from the tousled head on the other end of the bed. And neither was my human’s significant other, police detective Chase Kingsley, who was sleeping in the buff, as usual, and had wrestled free from the comforter to display his chiseled torso while his equally chiseled face was frowning. It would appear that even when sleeping Chase was solving crimes and apprehending criminals. The lone warrior of the law never sleeps.

Nor do cats, actually. Not completely, anyway. There’s always a tiny part of our consciousness that stays wide awake, ready to pounce on prey, or thwart a natural enemy.

Or track strange mewling sounds where no strange mewling sounds should be.

As I plodded down the stairs, I was already figuring out ways and means.

It could be Odelia’s smartphone, which had adopted a new ringtone.

It could be Nickelodeon, launching into its daily programming.

Or it could me, hearing things that weren’t here. Though that was highly unlikely.

Behind me, Dooley sleepily muttered,“Wassup, Max. Why you up?”

“Go back to sleep, Dooley,” I said. “It’s probably nothing.”

I may not be one of those guard dogs humans like to keep, but I do possess a certain sense of responsibility, and like to think that in case of danger I’m ready to sound the alarm.

The noise seemed to come from the modest hallway, where Odelia keeps her small cabinet containing knickknacks, her key dish, and an assortment of cat toys locked up safe and sound inside. I know how to jiggle the door, so each time I want to lay my paw on some rubber duck or plastic mouse, it’s right there for me to find. Not that I’m all that interested in rubber ducks or plastic mice, mind you. I mean, how old do you think I am? Six months? I’m a grownup, and rubber ducks lost their strange and fascinating appeal a long time ago.

I trod up to the door and put my ear against it. On the other side of the plywood I detected the distinct sound of cats mewling. And not just any cats, either. Kittens. Perhaps the foulest creatures in existence, though that particular and dubious honor should probably go to puppies.

I frowned. What were a bunch of kittens doing on Odelia’s doorstep?

“What do you want?” I asked therefore, not making any effort to conceal my disapproval at what amounted to an early-morning raid.

But the mewling continued unabated.

“Oh, stop it, you whiny little pests,” I sternly declared. “Just go away and don’t come back. This house has plenty of felines and no use for more.” Especially—gasp!—kittens.

And then I stepped away from the door and fully intended to retreat upstairs and put in another couple of hours of invigorating and refreshing sleep.

You may think me unnecessarily harsh, but you would be wrong. Kittens are a menace, plain and simple, and if you don’t believe me just try adopting one. They may seem deceptively appealing, with their cute little faces, and their cute little gestures, and their cute little noises, but I’m here to tell you they’re pure, unadulterated evil. Once they get past those first natural defenses, humans will take them in and give them a place, not only in their homes but in their hearts, and soon they won’t be able to get rid for them. And since I already have three other housemates to contend with, this was simply a matter of survival.

But as I turned on my heel, I almost bumped into Odelia, who was rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

“Wassup?” she muttered, taking a leaf out of Dooley’s book.

“Nothing to concern yourself with,” I said. “Go back to sleep.”

“No, but I heard something. Is that… a cat?”

“Nope. Not a cat,” I said. “Not a cat at all. And I should know, being a cat and all.”

“But—”

“No buts. Let’s go back upstairs. You and I both need our beauty sleep.”

But I could tell the strange fascination the kitten exerts was already working its pernicious magic, for Odelia stepped to the door, arm outstretched, going for the knob.

“Noooooo!” I yelled, but too late.