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Tulip looked down at what was in her hands. It was the packet of cat treats.

“Hold it up for the camera!” the white cat said. “That’s right, so we get a clear shot. Now eat!”

Tulip froze.“But… I need to wash…”

“I washed it for you already,” the white cat said. “Dig in! Reginald, you too. Take a treat as a reward for a job well done. And really SELL IT!” The raccoons clustered around Tulip as she handed out the treats. Then they ate them with much lip smacking and tummy rubbing. (They were a little over the top, actually.)

“Perfect!” The white cat cheered.

Wallace folded his arms and looked at the white cat disapprovingly.

“What? White lie. They’re clean!” The white cat shrugged.

“He’s coming!” Marco’s screech filled the room as he did a sliding run into the basement from the vent.

“RUN, YOU GUYS!” Polo yelled. They’d slipped down the vents like they were on a water slide, so they’d made it in record time. Polo looked at the door nervously. The apartment elevators were slow, but not that slow. “Bob’s on his way!”

They didn’t have much time.

The white cat nodded calmly.“Take your bows, everyone. And GO!”

The raccoons did elaborate hammy bows, grabbed their instruments and props, and then scattered, squeezing into the vents and slipping out through the holes in the insulation with one last wave goodbye.

“What was that? What were they EATING?” Mrs. Food asked. She and Mrs. Hates Dogs on Six were both kneeling in front of the Television to get the best possible view.

“Where are they going? Are they leaving? That one still has my hat!” Mrs. Hates Dogs on Six said. “And where is Bob?”

“There!” Madison stopped bouncing Butterbean up and down and pointed at the screen. “He’s coming in now.”

Onscreen, they could see Bob storm into the storage area and look around wildly, picking up bits of clothing and boxes as he searched for the raccoons. Then he turned in a slow circle, hands on hips as he scanned the room.

But there was nothing. The raccoons were gone.

Walt looked up at Oscar and gave an approving nod.

Operation Dazzle was a success.

— 19 —

“SO, YEAH. RACCOONS,” BOB SAID when he came back upstairs. “I didn’t catch them, but that’s definitely what they were. It looks like they got into pretty much everything.”

“So. Raccoons.” Mrs. Food turned to look at Mrs. Hates Dogs on Six. “Did you hear that, Harriet? Raccoons were in the storage area.”

Mrs. Hates Dogs on Six shifted uncomfortably and smoothed her skirt.“Well, what do you know.” She looked up at Bob. “So they were responsible for the damage?”

“Yup,” Bob said.

“This whole time?”

“Looks like it.” Bob crossed his arms.

“Hmm. Well, well.” Mrs. Hates Dogs on Six looked at Madison and took a deep breath. “Then I apologize.”

Madison’s eyebrows shot up. “Wow. Okay, um. Thanks.”

Mrs. Hates Dogs on Six sniffed.“I said it, no need to go on about it. Gloating is never attractive.” She looked down at Butterbean. “And control your dog. I don’t want to have to tell you again.”

She nodded briefly at Bob and Mrs. Food and then marched to the door, her back stiff.

“Well, I guess that’s the best you’re going to get,” Bob said after the door had shut behind her.

“I think we’ll take that as a win,” Mrs. Food said, patting Madison on the back.

“Good. And for the record, I’m sorry too.” Bob rubbed his hand over his face. “I wasn’t going to let her have you arrested.”

“Wait, WHAT?” Madison’s jaw dropped as she looked from Bob to Mrs. Food. “She wanted to have me ARRESTED?”

“Sooo,” Bob said, a panicked expression on his face. “If you’ll excuse me, I have some raccoons to deal with.” He turned and bolted for the door.

Madison turned to Mrs. Food, her arms crossed.“ARRESTED?”

“You mean you couldn’t hear ANY of it?” The white cat’s face fell. “But the music really made the production. They were terrific. Reginald’s song…” The white cat put her paw over her heart. “It got you right here.”

After Bob had left, Mrs. Food had taken Madison out for ice cream to celebrate her vindication (and to help her get over the whole“arrested” thing). Which meant that Mrs. Food’s apartment was the perfect location for the white cat’s cast party. Oscar tried to protest (no one had told him about a cast party), but it’s hard to say no when hordes of happy raccoons and rats are streaming into your apartment.

“It looked amazing, even without sound. It did the trick. It doesn’t matter that we couldn’t hear it,” Oscar said, watching carefully to make sure no one knocked anything over.

“But the harmonies! And that ukulele solo!” The white cat shook her head despairingly. “Well, that’s it. We’ll have to do it again.”

“We’re not doing it again,” Reginald said, laughing and clapping the white cat on the back. “But I have to admit, that was fun. Maybe I should’ve had a singing career.”

“Oh, you still could,” the white cat said with a gleam in her eye. “Wallace, do you have that phone?”