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“Get away from me!” Dooley squealed, trying to shift his cage further away from Shanille’s by rocking back and forth. “Help! Help! It’s gonna jump on me—I can feel it! Help me!” Finally, he managed to overturn his cage, toppling to the floor. Unfortunately, it toppled the wrong way, and now he was right next to Shanille and screaming even louder. “It’s crawling all over me!” he screamed. “I can feel its claws digging in! Heeeeelp!”

Suddenly Odelia, Father Reilly and Vena appeared in the doorway, alerted by the loud cries of three felines. Only Odelia could understand us, of course, and when she did, she had to suppress a chuckle. To her credit, she took immediate action. She righted Dooley’s carrier, then lifted mine, and carried us both into Vena’s consultation room. Off we were, into the lion’s den…

Chapter 9

“They’re dying to see you,” Odelia told Vena. “In fact they were so anxious they were meowing up a storm.”

“Liar,” I said, but she ignored me.

Dooley was still frantically scratching himself all over.“The tick!” he cried. “The tick is on me! It’s got me!”

“There is no tick on you,” I said. “If that tick has dug itself into Shanille it’s not going to jump ship. Shanille is way tastier than you.”

“She is not!” Dooley said indignantly, but he seemed quietly relieved. I think he probably knew that if a tick has a choice between Shanille and him, there’s no question.

“So. My two favorite cats!” Vena said, planting her hands on her sizable hips. Vena is a big and powerfully built woman, cast from the same mold that has produced the likes of Arnold Schwarzenegger and John Cena. Then again, if you’re going to pull calves from cows you probably have to have superhuman strength.

“Hi, Vena,” I said quietly.

She grunted approvingly.“I think he likes me, Odelia.”

“Oh, he loves you. They both do. In fact they can’t wait to come and see you.”

“And with good reason! They know I’ve got their best interests in mind!” She laughed loudly, and snapped the latches on our carriers, then picked me up and placed me on the examination table.

I gulped as I plunked down. I knew I had no other choice. If I tried to escape she would simply grab me by the scruff of the neck and haul me back. And that’s when the prodding and the poking began, just like I’d anticipated.

“Shouldn’t she be doing me first?” asked Dooley. “The tick…”

“There is no tick!” I yelled, losing my patience. In my defense, I was under extreme duress, as Vena’s hands had just prodded me in the belly, one of my many sensitive areas.

She proceeded to pull my ears, check inside them with a flashlight—probably in search of hidden treasure—and wrench my mouth open to check my teeth. All the while, she made these low grunting sounds that scared the bejeezus out of me. Finally, she placed some kind of round metal object against my chest, stuck what looked like a pair of earphones into her earsand frowned thoughtfully.

“Ha ha!” I yelped as she dug that metal thing into my fur. “It tickles!”

She staunchly ignored me, Odelia’s hands firmly holding me down, Vena listening intently. I remembered from last time she was only trying to listen to my heartbeat but it was still scary.

“Myes. Myes,” the vet finally muttered. “Just what I thought. Your cat is fat, Odelia.”

“What?!” I cried. “Not true! I’m big-boned! It runs in the family!”

“I know,” said Odelia, gently stroking my fur. “I noticed this morning when he had trouble jumping up on the bed.”

“The mattress became bigger overnight!”

“Yep,” said Vena, patting my head. “That is one obese tabby.”

“It’s the breed! I’m a tiger cat. We’re big. We have to be, so we can prowl the jungle.”

“Is that true?” asked Dooley from the floor. “Are you really a tiger cat?”

“It’s something I read on The Google,” I said desperately.

“I thought it was just Google, without the article?”

“Shut up, Dooley! I’m fighting for my life here!”

“I indulge him too much, don’t I?” asked Odelia.

“Don’t beat yourself up, honey,” said Vena. “A lot of people do. But he has to go back on a diet, I’m afraid. If not, all that fat is going to start taxing his heart. I can hear a definite murmur, which tells me his heart has to work too hard. Over time, he might also develop diabetes anda host of other ailments. So if you want to keep your Max happy and healthy, you’re going to have to do the work.”

“I am happy,” I said, though that stuff about diabetes and murmurs kinda gave me pause.

“Did you hear that, Max?” asked Odelia, bending down to look into my eyes. “If I want you happy and healthy I’m going to have to put you on a diet. And you know what that means.”

“Oh, God, not again,” I muttered.

“I love you, Max. I don’t want you to get sick on me, you hear? I need you fit and healthy.”

“I hear you,” I said resignedly. Murmurs and diabetes? Who needs that crap?

“Do you still remember what you gave him last year?” Vena asked.