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“No, she’s not. She’s pissed at Tex and Marge and trying to get back at them for not supporting her claim to Goldsmith fame and fortune. She’ll move back out at some point.”

“When?!” he cried.

I shrugged.“When she feels Tex has suffered enough.”

We both directed a curious look at Tex, who was humming a pleasant tune, looking pleased as the punch he was serving.“Tex doesn’t look like he’s suffering, Max,” Dooley said.

“Tex has never been happier. He’s finally managed to achieve the one thing he’s always wanted: kick his mother-in-law out of the house. Tex is living the dream right now.”

“Which means… Gran will live with Odelia forever! This is good!”

I transferred my gaze to Chase, who looked decidedly unhappy. Which just goes to show that one man’s dream is another man’s nightmare. Frankly I didn’t care either way. Chase moving in or Chase moving out. Gran moving out or Gran moving in. Babies or no babies. I knew that Odelia would always have my back and so would the rest of the Pooles and the Lips. They’d saved me from an exploding beer bottle and I’d done the same for them. In other words, it was all good.

And as I watched my humans tuck in and be merry, I placed a paw around Dooley’s shoulder. “Relax, buddy. Babies or no babies, we’ll always be Odelia’s pets. And who knows? If a pack of wild babies should happen to pop up one day all it would mean is more humans to buy tasty bits of kibble for us, right? And more humans to cuddle us and spoil us rotten.”

He eyed me with surprise.“You really think so, Max?”

“I know so. You know what I heard? That babieslove cats. Absolutely adore us.”

He thought about this. Hard. I could tell from the whirring sound his brain made. Then something clicked and he nodded solemnly.“All right, Max. I’m ready to have a baby.”

7.5. PURRFECTLY FLEALESS

Chapter 1

We were out in the backyard of Odelia’s house, undergoing what at first glance to any observer would have appeared an extremely humiliating procedure: Odelia had put a large washtub on the lawn, had filled it with warm soapy water, and was meticulously dragging a comb through the water and through my fur in an effort to catch those last, hard-to-reach fleas that might still linger on my precious bod. Meanwhile Marge was doing the same with Harriet, and Grandma Muffin with Dooley. Brutus, the fourth cat in our small menagerie, was doing his business in the bushes, waiting for his turn.

“And? Did you find any?” I asked, getting a little antsy.

As a general rule I hate getting wet. Odelia had assured me this washing time business was for the greater good, though, so I had agreed to go with it. Just this once.

“So far so good,” she said as she carefully inspected the comb.

“Why isn’t Brutus getting waterboarded?” I asked. “It’s not fair. We’re all getting waterboarded and he’s getting away scot-free. I think Chase should waterboard his cat.”

“It’s not waterboarding,” Odelia explained. “It’s just a gentle grooming session.”

“Whatever,” I grumbled, as I watched Dooley patiently undergoing similar treatment.

“I like it,” my friend said. “As long as it gets rid of these fleas I’m all for it.”

“I agree,” said Harriet, who now sported a dab of foam on the top of her head. “Anything to get rid of these hairy little monsters is all right by me.”

“Hairy?” asked Dooley, his eyes widening. “Nobody said anything about hairy.”

“Oh, yes,” said Harriet. “Fleas are big, hairy monsters, Dooley. As hairy as they come.”

Dooley gulped.“Get them off me, Grandma. Please get them off me!”

“Hold your horses,” Grandma grunted as she squinted at the comb. She then held it up for her daughter’s inspection. “Do you see anything on there, Marge? Those little suckers are so small I can’t be sure.”

Marge studiously ignored her mother, though, and continued combing Harriet as if Grandma hadn’t spoken. Ever since the old woman had decided to leave Hampton Cove to go and live with her newly acquired grandson, Grandma Muffin was dead to Marge.

Undeterred, Grandma waved the comb in Marge’s face. “Is that a flea or a piece of lint? I can’t tell.”

Marge finally took a closer look at the comb, a dark frown on her face.“Unless it’s an imaginary flea, like your imaginary pregnancy, there’s nothing there.”

“Suit yourself,” Grandma grumbled, and went back to dragging the comb through Dooley’s gray mane. She was using ample amounts of soap, and Dooley was now starting to resemble a drowned rat, hunted look in his eyes and all. “I’ll have you know that that was a great opportunity, Marge, and if you’d have been in my shoes you’d have gone for it, too.”

Marge turned on her mother.“No, I wouldn’t. I would never leave my family to go and live with a bunch of strangers just to get my hands on a little bit of money.”

“It wasn’t a little bit of money,” said Gran. “it was a lot. A big ol’ bundle of cash.”

“Even so. You don’t leave your family just because you happen to strike it rich.”

“I would have brought you in on the deal eventually,” said Gran.