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Biscuit nosed it carefully. Then he looked up, his lip quivering.“Are those? I mean…”

“They’re barrettes,” Butterbean said. “He thought they’d be a good look.”

Biscuit picked up the barrettes and rushed over to Mrs. Biscuit, flinging them violently into her lap.

“Oh, did you bring a gift?” She looked up at Madison quizzically.

Madison looked over at Butterbean, who wagged her tail.

“I mean… yes?” Madison said. Sometimes it was better just to go with it.

“These are perfect!” Mrs. Biscuit held the barrettes up to look at them. “They’re beautiful!” She leaned forward and whispered to Madison so Biscuit couldn’t hear. “I don’t know if you can tell, but he had a little mishap at the groomer. I think it’s been getting him down. These will do just the trick.”

“Oh really? I hadn’t noticed,” Madison lied. She had totally noticed.

Mrs. Biscuit bent down and snapped the barrettes into place, transforming Biscuit’s heavy bangs into two jaunty ponytails.

“Perfect!” Mrs. Biscuit said, clapping her hands together.

Biscuit raced over to the window and peered at his reflection. When he turned back, his eyes were moist.“Butterbean, that raccoon…” He sniffed loudly. “I can’t even…” He swallowed hard. “You guys are the best.”

— 20 —

“WELL?” MRS. FOOD LOOKED UP as Madison and Butterbean came into the apartment. “How did it go? Is Butterbean going to be a therapy dog?” She muted the Television program she’d been watching.

“How did it go? Terrible, that’s how it went,” Madison said, unclipping Butterbean’s leash and throwing herself into a chair.

“I failed!” Butterbean said cheerfully, trotting over to Oscar’s cage.

“Oh no!” Oscar said, hopping to the end of his perch. “I’m sorry, Bean.”

“Oh no!” Mrs. Food said sympathetically. “What happened?”

“They just didn’t appreciate my techniques,” Butterbean said with a shrug.

“What didn’t happen?” Madison grumbled. “She did EVERYTHING wrong.”

Mrs. Food chuckled.“I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.”

“Oh, it was,” Butterbean said.

Madison started counting on her fingers.“One, she jumped up on everyone in the room and licked them in the face, no matter how many times I tried to get her to stop. And not just once. Repeatedly.”

“They weren’t very friendly,” Butterbean said. “I tried to win them over, but it didn’t work.”

“Two, she refused to sit and stay when I told her to,” Madison went on. “It’s like she’d never heard the words before!”

Oscar raised an eyebrow.“But you know how to sit and stay.”

“They brought another dog in!” Butterbean said defensively. “OF COURSE I had to go say hello. I was just being POLITE.” Butterbean pouted. “I don’t see why they would hold that against me.”

“Three, she ate the food that they put out, even after I told her to leave it,” Madison said. “I told her a million times!”

“It was ON THE FLOOR!” Butterbean said indignantly. “It’s not like it BELONGED to anyone.”

“But it was a test!” Oscar pointed out. “You were supposed to leave it alone.”

“I didn’t want it to go to waste,” Butterbean said. “It was PERFECTLY GOOD FOOD.”

“It’s not your fault,” Walt said, inspecting her tail. “It sounds like it was a setup.”

“Do I need to go on?” Madison said, throwing up her hands. “Everything she did was wrong.”

“Poor Madison,” Mrs. Food said. “After you tried so hard.”

“They didn’t even have a couch,” Butterbean grumbled, lying down. “I didn’t even find out about their childhoods. It wasn’t what I think of as therapy at all.”

“It’s okay, Butterbean. Maybe you weren’t meant to be a therapy dog,” Polo said sympathetically.

“Yeah, if they won’t even let you eat loose food,” Marco agreed. “What good is it?”

“It’s fine. I’m thinking of opening a private practice,” Butterbean said thoughtfully. “Maybe keep it small at first… it’s just an idea.” She looked up hopefully. “Do you think Reginald and Biscuit would be willing to give me references?”

Walt sighed and looked at Oscar, who shrugged.“Sure. Why not.”

Mrs. Food patted Madison on the leg.“Well, that’s too bad. I’m sure they’ll let you try again,” she said.

“Nope, I think I’m just done. I’ll just—OH!” Madison sat up. “Look, on the TV—aren’t those the raccoons from the surveillance channel?”

Mrs. Food frowned and unmuted the Television.“I mean, they’re raccoons, but…”

Madison pointed at the screen.“See? The way that raccoon is holding the treats bag—I’m sure it’s the group that was in our storage room!”

Mrs. Food leaned forward.“No, I don’t think so, Madison,” she said after a few seconds. “These raccoons are obviously trained professionals. They’ve got music and costumes. And the video is much clearer.” Then she laughed. “Besides, nobody was filming our raccoons, and that’s hardly footage from the surveillance camera.”

Madison grinned.“Right. It’s not like there was a cameraman down there.”

“Exactly.” Mrs. Food smiled.

“Um,” Wallace raised a hand. “Hello? I’m RIGHT HERE.”

“I can’t believe the white cat was right. They ARE famous,” Oscar said, shaking his head.

“I can’t believe it’s on the Television so fast!” Butterbean said.