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“I don’t know what you call it,” said Little Janine. “It’s big and made of plastic and there’s some kind of funny-smelling sand inside. Very nice. Oh, and if you don’t mind, can you tell Odelia to get me a dog bed? We had to leave England in such a rush Janine forgot to bring mine. Mind you, I only sleep on a Queen Bee dog bed, the one with the genuine sheep wool. I have sensitive skin so I can’t sleep on anything else I’m afraid.” She gave a sort of wave in our direction. “That’ll be all.”

“What was that all about?” asked Odelia, who’d taken Grace from her crib and was gently rocking her in her arms.

“Little Janine wants you to buy her a Queen B dog bed made of real sheep wool,” I said.

“And Little John said to tell you the food is super,” said Dooley.

“Subpar, Dooley, not super,” I corrected my friend.

“And also, Little John pooped in our rose bushes,” said Harriet sadly.

“And Little Janine pooped in Max’s litter box,” Brutus supplied with a grin.

“Uh-huh?” said Odelia. “Is that a fact?”

I had the impression she hadn’t really paid a lot of attention to what we said, and I now saw she had dark rings under her eyes, presumably from a lack of sleep. Cats sleep all the time, you see, in the sense that we take what we can get as far as sleep is concerned. Humans, on the other hand, have this fixed idea that they can only sleep at night, and when they don’t, they simply go through their day like a somnambulist—or the walking dead, whatever the case may be.

“She looks tired, Max,” said Dooley, who had noticed the same phenomenon.

“She looks exhausted,” said Harriet.

“She looks dead on her feet,” said Brutus.

“It’s the Airbnb,” I said. “It must be tough having to deal with these guests.“

I know it was certainly tough on us. Harriet and Brutus’s favorite spot would never be the same again—dog excrement leaves a particularly nasty smell that is very hard to get rid of. And also, it’s hard to get in the mood for sweet luvin’ when everything around you smells like dog poo. My litter box was most definitely ruined now and I probablywould never be able to go again—what cat likes to go where a dog has gone before? Certainly not me! And if I wasn’t mistaken Little Janine and her little brother Little John had eaten all of our food.

Proof of this was when Dooley returned from the kitchen moments later, having ventured there for a quick session of stress-eating, and cried,“They’ve eaten all of our food!”

“Of course they have,” Brutus grunted.

“I thought they said they didn’t like it!” said Dooley.

“Even people who are used to five-star restaurants like to go to McDonald’s from time to time, Dooley,” I said. When he simply stared at me, not comprehending, I explained, “If what Little John and Little Janine are used to can be described as five-star meals then the food we get is more akin to a McDonald’s Happy Meal.” When he still stared at me, puzzled, I explained even further, “We eat what your average gourmet would call comfort food, and even though comfort food isn’t what a foodie would recommend, they still enjoy it when they can.”

Dooley blinked, then reiterated,“but they ate all of our food, Max!”

I sighed.“Yes, Dooley. And I’m sure Odelia has plenty more in store.”

We glanced up at Odelia in hopeful anticipation, but when she simply stared back at us with unseeing eyes, it was obvious that our food situation was dire.

Stomping feet on the stairwell told us that we were no longer alone—then again, when you’re living in an Airbnb, are you ever truly alone?

Janine Boggle appeared, waving what looked like a pillowcase.“What kind of laundry detergent did you use to wash these, Odelia? They smell awful.”

“Tide pods,” said Odelia in a toneless voice.

“Well, I can tell you right now that John won’t get a wink of sleep on these. He’s allergic to all synthetic fragrances. You’ll simply have to give them another wash. And the sheets, too, of course, and the mattress cover, while we’re at it.”

Odelia nodded, and Janine frowned.“Oh, and can you ask your daughter to keep her voice down. John is on a Zoom call, and all this screaming is making it hard for him to focus. Thanks!” she ended on a chipper tone, and was off again.

“Tough business, the Airbnb business,” said Harriet, putting into words what we were all thinking.

The sliding glass door slid open and Marge walked in. Her face was flushed, presumably in the aftermath of her discussion with her builder husband.“I’m here,” she announced, quite unnecessarily, I thought, for we could see she was there. “How is it going?”

“I’m so glad you came,” said Odelia, getting up with some effort. “I don’t know where my head’s at.”

“Your head is on your shoulders, silly,” Dooley laughed, but Odelia hadn’t heard, for Grace had once again decided to loudly voice her discontent. “Can you look after her for a while? John is on a Zoom call and he can’t focus. Oh, and I have some beddings to wash.” She frowned. “Do you have fragrance-free detergent?”

Marge gave her daughter an odd look.“Who are these people again?”