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“Now, see, that’s where you’re wrong. People love rabbits. They hate cats.”

This was one weird rabbit, I thought. Dooley, who’d also emerged from behind the tire, seemed to think so, too, for he said, “I never met a cat-hating rabbit before.”

“And I’m not the only one. All rabbits hate cats—and so do humans.”

“No, they don’t. Our humans love cats,” said Dooley.

“Huh,” said the rabbit. “Your humans must be weirdos.”

“No, they’re not. They’re perfectly normal humans,” I said.

“If they like cats there must be something wrong with them.”

“They’re normal humans!” I cried. “And like all normal humans they love cats!”

“Look, I’m not having this conversation,” said the rabbit. “You better clear out now before I call in the dogs.”

“What has happened to you that you hate cats so much?” asked Dooley.

The rabbit frowned.“I don’t understand the question. The whole world hates cats.”

“No, it doesn’t!” I said.

“You’re obviously delusional, cat. Of course it does. All life on this planet agrees on only one thing: that cats are the most loathsome creatures ever brought into this world.”

“Who are you talking to, Alfie?” asked a muffled voice.

“Stay where you are, Victorine,” said the rabbit. “It’s not safe out here.”

A second rabbit rose up from the hole. Like its cat-hating friend, it was white and fluffy and looked harmless. When it caught sight of us, it even smiled.“Oh, hi, there, cats.”

“Don’t talk to them, Victorine!” said Alfie. “You know we don’t talk to cats.”

“Oh, don’t be rude, Alfie.” She gave us a look of apology. “Don’t mind Alfie, cats. Ever since he was attacked by a pack of wild cats he hasn’t been the same.” She turned to Alfie. “These are two perfectly nice cats, Alfie. Gentlecats. They’re not going to hurt you.”

“Yeah, we’re nice cats, Alfie,” I echoed Victorine. “All we want from you is some information.”

Dooley was eyeing the two rabbits with trepidation.“Did you say that a pack of wild cats attacked you?”

“Yeah, there were at least a dozen of them,” said Victorine. “Vicious creatures. Not you, of course,” she quickly added. “You’re nice. Now what was it you wanted to know?”

I repeated my request, and I could see this set the rabbits thinking. Alfie probably about calling in the dogs, but Victorine was actually contemplating my question.

“I did see two men last night. They cut a hole in the fence. Before driving off.”

“Don’t help them, Victorine!” her cat-hating mate implored. “We don’t help cats!”

“Oh, shush,” she said kindly. “Um, one was short and one was tall. And the tall one had a little mustache and the short one had a very big nose. Like one of them strawberry noses. He also had a purple spot on his upper lip. I thought maybe he got stung by a bee.”

“Or attacked by a cat,” Alfie growled.

Now we were getting somewhere.“That’s great, Victorine,” I said. “Did you ever see these men before?”

“Oh, no,” she said. “And I haven’t seen them since, either. Did you see them before, Alfie?”

But Alfie was now engaged in a silent protest.

“Oh, don’t be like that, Alfie. Not all cats are bad. These are two perfectly nice cats.”

“I don’t like cats,” Alfie insisted, his fluffy tail twitching defiantly. “Any cats.”

Victorine shook her head.“I’m afraid he’s become one of them whatchamacallits, um…” She thought for a moment, thumping her paw, then her face cleared. “A racist!”

I’d never met an anti-cat racist rabbit before, so this was definitely a first. “Well, if it’s any consolation, there are some very nasty cats out there,” I said.

“Darn tootin’ there are,” said Alfie.

Victorine pursed her lips.“Still. No sense in tarring all cats with the same brush, is there? I’m sure there are more nice cats than nasty ones. And the same goes for rabbits.”

“Hey!” said Alfie. “Don’t you go talking smack about your own kind!”

“Oh, Alfie, you have got to admit that your mother can be quite a handful. Like when I brought her that perfectly good carrot yesterday and she told me it had mildew. Mildew!”

“Okay, fine. My mother is a handful. But that doesn’t mean all rabbits are like her.”

“And what about your seven million sisters? They’re always perfectly mean to me.”

“All right. I’ll give you that. My sisters are absolute pests.”

“Or your fifteen million brothers.”

“I get it! You’ve made your point!”

“And there was that time when your father called me a stuck-up little—”

“Fine! I get it! Rabbits can be horrible meanies, too.”

“And don’t get me started on your five million aunts.”

“Hey, your family hasn’t exactly rolled out the red carpet for me, either!”

“Don’t you say a bad thing about my family, Alfie!”

Dooley and I kinda drifted off after that, feeling we didn’t need to be there for this domestic scene of spousal discord. We had the information we’d come here to find, and that was good enough for me.

“I didn’t know rabbits could be racist, Max,” said Dooley as we walked away, the sounds of Victorine and Alfie arguing now growing distant.

“I guess all animals can be racist,” I said.

“Do you think flies are racist? Against bees, for instance?”

“Probably so.”