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I frowned at our butch black friend.“So you’re saying… What are you saying, exactly?”

“He’s saying that Odelia is sick and tired of having a pair of cats infest her home,” said Harriet. “Especially with Grace to take care of. So she invited these Boggles and their canine appendages to drive you both out of the house.”

“Oh, dear,” I said. It was true that our home wasn’t our home anymore. Not with two human Boggles and two canine Boggles having taken over. And then of course there was Grace, who seemed to find a perverse pleasure in interrupting our precious and sacred nap time by imitating a fire engine atregular intervals.

“So you’re saying this was a deliberate strategy by Odelia to get rid of us?”

“Of course!” said Brutus. “And a very clever one, too. Now she can blame everything on the Boggles, and you have no other recourse but to move out.”

“My theory,” said Harriet, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, “is that Odelia turned her home into an Airbnb and the Boggles are her first guests.”

“What’s an Airbnb?” asked Dooley.

“It’s like a bed and breakfast in a private home,” I said. “To be booked online.”

“At least over here things are still the way they’ve always been,” said Harriet as she smoothed her whiskers. “And since Marge is too old to have babies, and so is Gran, I think it’s safe to say that this haven of peace and hospitality is a given.”

Just then, Tex came walking out of the house. For some reason he was wearing a yellow hard hat on top of his head, and was dressed in a high-vis vest over blue coveralls. He was also carrying what looked like a sledgehammer and had a look of determination in his eyes. And as he approached the garden house, we all followed his progress with marked interest.

“What’s up with Tex?” I asked.

“I have absolutely no idea,” said Brutus. “He did mention something about a second bathroom this morning, though I told him he could always use my litter box. As usual, he ignored me, of course.”

“He ignores you because he doesn’t understand you, angel,” said Harriet.

“And I think he can understand us perfectly,” said Brutus. “He’s been married to Marge for twenty-five years—plenty of time to pick up our language. No, he’s simply pretending not to understand us because it’s more convenient to him.”

“How do you figure that?” I asked.

“If he doesn’t understand us, he can ignore us,” Brutus explained. “And if he ignores us, he doesn’t have to clean out our litter box, fill up our bowls, or take us to the vet when we’re dealing with some medical emergency. It’s laziness, pure and simple.”

“I don’t know if…” I began to say, but Brutus held up his paw.

“You don’t have to teach me humans, Max. They’re a duplicitous species. Just look at Odelia. Promising to take care of you forever, and the moment a couple of Boggles arrive she’s suddenly forgotten you even exist.”

“All she did was forget to fill our bowls,” I said.

“And forget to clean out our litter boxes. And don’t forget she gave your favorite blanket to the Boggles,” said Dooley.

“She didn’t actually give my blanket to the Boggles, Dooley,” I said. “They simply took it.”

“Because Odelia took her eye off the ball,” Brutus said.

“What ball?” asked Dooley. “I thought we were talking about a blanket.”

“Whatis that man up to?” said Harriet now.

We all returned our attention to Tex, and suddenly, and much to our shock and horror, he heaved that sledgehammer high over his head… and smashed the door of his own garden house!

“He’s gone crazy!” Brutus cried. “The man has gone cuckoo!”

“It’s true,” said Harriet in hushed tones. “Tex has gone bananas.“

And they were absolutely right: the good doctor was smashing in that garden house as if it had personally insulted him. The wood splintered, the windows cracked, and soon an entire wall of the structure collapsed under the onslaught!

“This is gratuitous violence on an alarming scale,” said Harriet, shaking her head.

“But why!” Dooley cried. “Why is he doing this!”

“I’ve read about this,” said Brutus. “Human men of a certain age sometimes go through something called a midlife crisis. It makes them go all weird.”

“I thought men suffering from a midlife crisis started wearing a leather jacket and bought themselves a Harley-Davidson,” I said.

“Or started dating a woman young enough to be their daughter,” Harriet said.

“A midlife crisis manifests itself in different ways in different people,” said Brutus, our resident Sigmund Freud. “And in Tex it apparently manifests as a desire to destroy innocent garden houses that have never done anything wrong.”

We watched on as a second wall of the garden house now collapsed, and Tex started in on wall number three. The roof was already dangling at a crooked angle, and if this kept up, soon there would be no more garden house left!

“I don’t feel safe, Max,” Dooley intimated in a soft tone. “What if he starts destroying the house? And then Odelia’s house? We won’t have a home anymore!”

“Dooley is right,” said Harriet. “We have to stop him before he destroys the house!”