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Harriet had been studying the rose directly located above her head with distinct interest. She and Brutus liked to spend their leisure time underneath the rose bushes, which had become their go-to place for some quality time together. And as she listened to Brutus’s rhythmic breathing as he slept the sleep of the dead, she suddenly found herself wondering if this was all there was.

“Don’t get me wrong,” she told the flower, who simply stared back at her, not all that interested in these idle musings, “I like what Brutus and I have, but sometimes I just ask myself if there isn’t more, you know.” More of what? She had no idea. She just felt there had to be more of… something.

She watched her mate’s chest rise and fall as he explored the land of dreams, and wondered what he was dreaming of. Probably another girl. If she knew anything about men, it was that they were always allowing their eye to wander. And as she imagined Brutus and this mystery woman canoodling in some far-off dream world, suddenly she got so mad she gave him a sharp poke in the ribs.

Brutus jerked to full wakefulness and looked around, dazed and confused.

“What just happened?” he asked, his voice thick with sleep. “I thought I was being attacked by something. Did you see it?”

“Must be your guilty conscience,” she said sweetly. “When men are suffering from a guilty conscience it will suddenly rear its ugly head and attack them when they least expect it.”

“Now why would I be suffering from a guilty conscience?” asked Brutus, stretching out and driving hose last vestiges of sleep from his corpus.

“I don’t know. You tell me. Who were you dreaming of just now, because it probably wasn’t me.”

He frowned.“Um… I think I was dreaming of a bird, actually.”

“What bird? Do I know this bird? What’s her name? And why haven’t you told me about you and this bird before!” she demanded hotly.

“It’s just a bird, sugar plum!”

“Describe her for me. What color are her eyes? And what does she look like?”

“I don’t know. Red chest, I guess, and some green feathers in her tail. Just a songbird, you know… singing… a song… or something.”

“Oh,” she said, and instantly her interest in this bird of colorful plumage waned. Birds weren’t interesting, after all. Not as interesting as potential rivals, of which there were many in Hampton Cove. As a matter of fact, sometimes she had the impression all of Hampton Cove was jealous of what she and Brutus had, exactly because it was so very rare and all. “Okay, you can go back to sleep,” she finally allowed. “I thought maybe you were dreaming of Shanille.”

“Now why would I be dreaming of Shanille?” asked Brutus, and he seemed so genuinely puzzled that she had to laugh.

“It’s fine, starshine. I guess I had a moment of weakness. It happens.”

“Oh. Well, all right.” He gave her a look of concern, which touched her heart. “You don’t have to be jealous, starfish. You know there’s only one girl for me and that’s you.”

“I know.” She simpered a little, batting her eyelashes for a moment, but then Brutus’s eyes drifted closed again and before long he was fast asleep once more, and she found herself experiencing the same recurring thought that perhaps he was secretly dreaming of some other girl.

The thought was so persistent and so annoying, that finally she decided to clear her head and go and do something else entirely. Humans who want to clear their heads go for long walks, but she hated going for long walks. It was very tiresome on her paws. Or they spent time gardening, being amongst the plants and flowers and weeding things. Humans love weeding. But since cats don’t go in for a silly thing like that, instead she decided to head indoors and talk to Max.

Talking relieved her soul of any burden that might be weighing it down. Talking was, in her view, the best remedy for anything that ailed her, from sore paws to persistent thoughts of Brutus dreaming about some other girl or girls.

Inside, she almost immediately bumped into Dooley. He wasn’t her preferred person to talk to, but he was available, and that was all that mattered.

“Dooley, I need to tell you something very important,” she said, opening proceedings.

“Oh?” he said, never a great conversationalist.

“I think Brutus is having an affair. In his dreams. Which is crazy, I know, and so I don’t know what to do about it.”

“Oh?” Dooley repeated, and for some reason he seemed distracted. She frowned. The very least he could do was listen to her, and not stare off into space like a cow.

“Are you listening?” she asked, tapping his chest for good measure. “Cause this is important, Dooley. Very important.”

He stared at her for a moment, as if he hadn’t even been aware she was there, then said the most outrageous thing. “Do you think I’ll ever find love, Harriet?”