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Odelia was one lucky woman. And I was one very lucky cat. And I was still basking in that warm and fuzzy glow when the car suddenly jounced to a halt and Odelia announced in chipper tones,“Wake up, you guys. We’re here!”

When I glanced out the window I recognized where we were and promptly broke out in a cold sweat.

Oh, no.

Vena’s!

Chapter 37

“So what have we here?!” boomed Vena.

I cringed, and so did the rest of the cat contingent. Vena has that effect on cats. She has a big voice, an even bigger personality, and resembles The Rock in more ways than one. She stood before us, hands planted on her hips, a mass of muscle and hearty good cheer.

“They’ve got a cold,” Odelia intimated.

“Yeah, they’ve been sneezing and coughing all day,” Gran chimed in.

“The poor dears,” Marge added.

“Let’s have a look,” said Vena. Without effort, she picked me up and plunked me down on the operating table. I fully expected her to start probing me with all manner of metal implements before plunging some type of syringe into my neck but instead her surprisingly gentle touch and warm hands performed a quick but thorough examination.

“Mh,” she said. “He’s got a cold, all right, but only a minor one. Nothing to worry about.” She gave me a tickle behind the ears. “You’ll be right as rain in no time, Max.”

“Oh, that’s great news,” said Odelia.

“Thanks… Vena,” I said, surprised to get off so easy.

“You’re welcome, buddy,” she said, almost as if she could understand what I said.

“See?” said Gran. “I told you not to worry.”

“I didn’t worry,” I said indignantly.

“No, but I did,” said Dooley.

“Dooley is the worrier of this little gang of cats,” said Odelia with a smile.

In short order, my friends underwent the same treatment, until finally Brutus was on the table.

“He’s got spots,” said Odelia. “So you may want to look at those.”

“Spots?” asked Vena. “What spots?”

“Red spots. On my chest,” said Brutus. “Do you think it’s cancer? Am I going to die? I was baptized last night. Shanille said Jesus would save me but I’m not sure she wasn’t full of crap. She’s the reason we got this cold, you know. She dunked us into this gigantic vat of ice water and now I feel worse than ever, so—”

“Stop babbling, Brutus,” said Harriet.

Brutus abruptly stopped babbling.

“He has spots on his chest,” said Odelia, translating Brutus’s gibberings. “Red spots.”

“Probably been drinking,” said Gran. “What?” she added when Marge rolled her eyes. “Pets can have a drinking problem, too. You should have seen my husband’s dog Rex. The two of them always went on their benders together. Came home drunk as skunks.”

“I don’t have a drinking problem,” Brutus said indignantly. “Teetotaler all the way.”

“It’s so funny the way your cats talk, Odelia,” said Vena with a smile.

“Yeah, they’re real talkative,” said Gran. “Blabbermouths, the lot of them.”

“I wonder where they get it from,” Marge murmured.

“Let’s check those nasty spots, shall we?” Vena said, and parted Brutus’s fur like Moses the Red Sea.

Brutus giggled.“You’re tickling me,” he laughed.

“Mh,” said Vena finally. “Myes. I see what you mean. Spots. Red ones.”

Brutus stopped giggling. Instead, a look of panic came over his face.“Oh, no!” he cried. “It’s cancer! She’s going to put me down! Please don’t let her put me down! Save me! I’m too young to die! Don’t let me dieeeeee!”

Odelia smiled indulgently but didn’t respond. Long experience has taught her it’s unwise to be seen talking feline in front of other people. Even veterinarians. Especially veterinarians. They might put her down instead. “So what do you think?” she asked.

“Pollen!” Vena boomed.

“Pollen?”

“Pollen! Nothing to worry about.”

“But I thought pollen affected the eyes and nose?”

“Not with cats it doesn’t. Pollen leads to atopic dermatitis, also known as skin allergy.” She gave Brutus a pat on the head. “Which is what this fellow is suffering from. Usually the rash will appear on the outside of the ears, on the head, face or paws. In this big fella’s case it manifested on the chest. Nothing that some medication won’t take care of.”

“That’s great,” said Odelia, clearly greatly relieved.

“Wait, I’m not going to die?” asked Brutus.

“No, you’re not,” I said. “Just an allergy. To pollen.”

“What’s pollen?” asked Dooley.

“It’s the yellow powdery stuff you find inside flowers,” I said.

“Huh,” said Brutus. He looked down at Harriet. “Babe! I’m not going to die!”

“Of course you’re not going to die,” said Harriet, looking peeved. “Making a big fuss about nothing.” And she stalked off, her tail high. But when she passed me, she gave me a wink. She might not have shown it, but I knew she’d been worried about her mate, too.