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“Mh?” said Big John absentmindedly. “Oh, you mean Wilkins? Yes, of course. He’s my PPO. Goes with me wherever I go. Makes sure nobody blows me up or shoots me or some such tomfoolery.”

“PPO?”

“Personal protection officer. Works for the Metropolitan Police.”

“Is that like that golden robot from Star Wars, Max?” asked Dooley.

“I think he’s called C-3PO, Dooley,” I said.

“But, but, but…” Odelia stuttered.

“I know, I know,” said Big John. “I didn’t like it myself at first. Took me a while to get used to. But now I find it has a sort of soothing effect, don’t you know. A kind of reassurance that the world is a safe place as long as Wilkins is around.”

“I thought he was here to kidnap my daughter,” said Odelia, still much shaken.

“Wilkins? Oh, no,” said Big John with a light chuckle. “I can assure you kidnapping babies is the last thing on his mind. He’s a perfectly honorable chappie. Heart of gold and all that. Won plenty of medals, don’t you know.” He glanced around until his eye settled on the couch. “Wouldyou perhaps be so kind to provide Wilkins with a pillow and some sheets? I’m sure he’d love nothing better than to sleep on the cold, hard floor, but I believe in treating my staff well.”

“Of course,” said Odelia, looking a little sandbagged as she replaced the statuette on the kitchen counter, then mounted the stairs to fetch some bedding for Wilkins.

Brutus, who was still holding up his paw, asked,“So what about the DNA?”

“I think you can put your paw down now, Brutus,” I said. “The value of that particular DNA has just taken a big hit and is now trading at cents on the dollar.”

CHAPTER 10

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“Just move in with us—just do it,” Brutus suggested.

“I don’t know, Brutus,” I said.

“Look, it’s obvious that Odelia has other things on her mind right now: the baby, and now these friends of hers with their dogs and their… stuff. Time for you and Dooley to move out and move in with us. Plenty of space for the four of us!”

It was a tempting offer, of course, and Brutus had a point. Odelia did have a lot of things on her mind, and she certainly didn’t have time to deal with Dooley and me. Case in point: she’d forgotten to fill up our bowls, which was a first, and to clean out our litter boxes, which was an unpleasant surprise. Also, Little John and Little Janine had confiscated my favorite blanket. All in all, a sad state of affairs!

“But where will we sleep?” asked Dooley.

“That’s the easy part: you and Max will sleep on Gran’s bed and Harriet and me will sleep where we sleep now: on Marge and Tex’s bed. Easy peasy!”

Tempting, very tempting indeed.

We had escaped from the house, which was far too busy and noisy to our liking, and had decided to avoid the backyard, just in case more men in black jumped out at us and tried to kidnap us—or, as the case may be, stepped on our tails—and were now enjoying the peace and quiet of Marge and Tex’s backyard.

“I think it’s the perfect solution,” said Brutus, reiterating his point. “After all, cats are survivors. When things become too hectic or too uncomfortable for our taste, we simply move on. In that sense we show our superiority to the canine species, who stick to their humans like glue, come rain or shine.”

“Cats don’t stick to their humans like glue?” asked Dooley.

“No, of course not, silly. We go where life takes us. Free spirits to the core.” He looked up when Harriet came walking out through the pet flap. “And?” he said hopefully.

“Beef,” said Harriet sadly.

“What, again? We had beef yesterday, and the day before.”

“I know. I told Marge and she’s going shopping tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow!” He sagged a little. “Oh, well. I guess these little setbacks are life’s way of making us more spiritual.” He returned his attention to us. “Now where was I? Oh, that’s right. I was explaining the essential sense of adventure and independence of the feline species. We don’t need anyone or anything.”

“Are you moving in with us?” asked Harriet.

“We’re thinking about it,” I said.

“Just do it,” was her advice. “It’s not your fault that Odelia decided to replace you with a baby, and then started filling the house with her dubious friends. So it’s not a lot of fun. I say deal with it. If life deals you lemons, make lemonade.”

“I don’t like lemonade,” Dooley murmured sadly.

“Odelia didn’t exactly replace us with a baby,” I said.

“No, she said she would always have a place for us in her home,” said Dooley, on whom this conversation was having a slightly disconcerting effect, judging from the way he was darting anxious glances to me from time to time.

“You have to understand humans speak with forked tongues,” said Brutus.

“Odelia’s tongue is forked?!” Dooley asked, thoroughly shocked.

“Not literally, of course,” said Brutus curtly. “I was just trying to make a point. Humans often say one thing and do the opposite. They’re afraid that if they tell you the truth you’ll kick up a fuss. So instead they feed you some convenient lie, and then do whatever they intended to do anyway, hoping you won’t notice.”