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“That girl goes so much faster than Mrs. Food! My legs were flying!” Butterbean went on, tongue lolling out of her mouth.

Oscar cleared his throat.“Yes, well, obviously. Mrs. Food was older, and susceptible to falls. I’m surprised you didn’t realize that. Especially in light of recent events.”

“Right. Falls.” Butterbean snuffled in embarrassment. “Look, I SAID I was SORRY, okay?” She wished she hadn’t said anything. She was never going to live that barf down.

Walt put a paw on Butterbean’s back. “It’s fine. Now, what happened while you were out there? Did you see or hear anything? Do you have any new information?”

Butterbean looked at the ceiling while she thought. It was important to focus so she wouldn’t forget anything. She didn’t want to mess this up too. “Yeeess. There was something. They’re using a new cleaner on the rugs—it’s very strong. I think it’s supposed to be a floral smell? I don’t like it.”

Oscar raised an eyebrow at Walt.“Okay, that’s new. And?”

“I saw Biscuit from the second floor. He has a new haircut. You can see his eyes again. It’s a good look.”

Walt refused to even glance at Oscar.“And?”

Butterbean considered for a minute.“Well… there’s been a lot of activity at the trash can out front. Mostly Biscuit, I think, but I think someone new had been by too. OH! And the doorman had a hamburger from a fast food place. I smelled the wrapper. Extra onions. No cheese, though.” Butterbean looked at them hopefully. “Does that help?”

Walt shot Oscar a warning look.“Yes, thank you. Anything about Mrs. Food?”

Butterbean frowned.“Well, no.”

“Did the girl say anything?”

Butterbean perked up.“Yes. But it was mostly ‘hurry up’ and ‘do your business.’ I don’t think she was talking about Mrs. Food. It was all very cryptic.”

“Yes. A mystery,” Oscar sighed.

Walt turned to Oscar.“So now what?”

“Emergency meeting,” Oscar said. “Now I’m not going to pretend our situation isn’t bad. But we shouldn’t overreact. We just need to determine how bad.”

“It’s more than bad,” Walt said, slowly licking a paw. “It’s really bad.”

Oscar rolled his eyes.“Well, maybe not. I saw a news story just the other day about a dog who lost his person, and he inherited millions of dollars. Millions! He even inherited a new person to take care of him!”

“Lucky dog. What’s your point?” Walt didn’t even pause in her licking.

“Mrs. Food is very responsible—I’m sure she’s made provisions for us.”

Walt shook her head.“Nope. Sorry.”

Oscar looked hurt.“Walt, surely it’s worth a look. There are probably papers.”

Walt stopped licking.“No, it’s not. Because yes, there are papers, and no, we’re not in them.”

“What? How do you know?” Butterbean gasped. This conversation was moving too fast for her. Walt should have given a spoiler alert at least.

“I live in the office, people. You think I don’t go through her papers? It gets boring around here. I’ve been through everything in there at least three times. I know her passwords. I know her secrets.”

“Mrs. Food has secrets?” Butterbean gasped again. She couldn’t believe she’d been so blind. First the rats, now secrets? The whole day had just been one cruel blow after another.

“Well, no, that’s my point. Mrs. Food has no secrets from me. She also has no provisions for us. She’s only made provisions for the Feral Cats Charitable Foundation andDog Fancy Magazine. And unless I’m mistaken, that’s not us.”

“But… but…” Oscar sputtered. He thought he’d considered everything. He had a carefully planned set of talking points. His whole speech was ruined. Oscar’s feathers drooped. “Well, then I don’t know what to say. We’re not overreacting. We’re doomed.”

“We’re not doomed,” Walt said. “We have options. We just need to make a plan.”

“But how?” Butterbean said. “What is there to do?” If Oscar said they were doomed, they were pretty much doomed.

Walt twitched her tail.“Like I said, I know Mrs. Food’s secrets. I can use her computer. I’m not a fast typist, but I can do it. I can order things online. At least I think I can.”

“What things? Toys?” Butterbean wagged her tail so hard that her butt almost lifted off the floor. She loved new toys.

“I was thinking food. We can have things delivered. That will tide us over until her credit card runs out, at least. All we have to do is figure out a way to open the door and get the boxes.”

Oscar shook his head.“That only works if we can get Bob off our backs. Whatever we do, we have to do it fast. In a week.”

“Give or take,” Butterbean said solemnly. “More or less.”

“I’ll deal with Bob,” Walt said, her eyes gleaming. “I could go for the eyes. Still an option.”

“Yes. Well.” Oscar cleared his throat. “Even with Bob out of the way, as I see it, our options are limited. Option one? Get jobs. Or option two, become independently wealthy. Personally, I prefer option two.”

“I could get a job!” Butterbean said. “I’ve seen the commercials, work from home! I’m at home, I could work. Maybe I could do that?”

Oscar shifted on his perch.“That’s a nice thought, Butterbean, but what kind of work do you think you could do?”