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“Yeah, that was pretty good,” Harriet admitted, and nodded in admiration. High praise, coming from her.

“I’ve been singing all my life,” said Prunella modestly. “It’s one of my hobbies.”

“Who are you?” asked Shanille.

“Prunella is Opal Harvey’s cat,” I explained. “She’s in town for a visit.”

“Opal’s cat!” Shanille cried, and now looked as if she was about to collapse. “Why didn’t you say so?”

“I tried,” I said.

Shanille now placed a paw around Prunella’s shoulder. “Let me introduce you to the others. And how is Opal as a human? Is she as nice in real life as she is on television?” And as she led Prunella away, the latter mouthed, ‘Thanks, Max!’

“You’re welcome,” I said. Prunella might be rich and her owner famous, but from what I remembered she didn’t have much of a social life out there in LA. It would do her some good to chat with other cats for a change.

“That was so amazing, you guys,” Harriet gushed, now that both Prunella and Shanille were out of earshot.

“It was,” I said. “It really was.”

“I wish I could sing like that.”

“You have to practice, Harriet,” said Dooley. “The important thing is to try and be open to honest criticism. And be willing to work hard and improve.”

“Wiseass,” said Harriet good-naturedly, and sashayed off, ever the diva.

“See you around, fellas,” said Brutus happily, and also pranced off.

And as Dooley and I mingled with our friends, suddenly I saw two familiar figures standing at the edge of the clearing, watching on with marked interest.

Reading from left to right, they were: Little John and Little Janine!

CHAPTER 26

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Somehow I wasn’t surprised to see the Boggle canines giving us the evil eye. Presumably they’d followed us all the way to the park, having nothing better to do than to play surveillance. It is, after all, what dogs do best: track down stuff. When it’s not a bone they once buried in the backyard, it’s their landlady’s cats.

“It’s the Boggle dogs, Max!” said Dooley, much perturbed. “They’re watching us!”

“And gossiping about us, no doubt,” I said.

“What are we going to do!”

“Just ignore them,” was my advice.

“But how can we ignore them? They’re right there—watching! Waiting!”

He was right. It’s very hard to ignore a pair of dogs who are doing their utmost not to be ignored. They were so very obviously conspicuous I could see their game. They were trying to intimidate us. Browbeat us into submitting to them. But instead of allowing myself to be cowed, I decided to beat them at their own game. “Let’s go,” I said curtly.

“Go where?”

“Go and talk to them.”

“Talk to them! But, Max!”

“Settle this thing once and for all.”

And without waiting for Dooley’s reply, I stalked over there, planting myself in front of the twosome and giving them the evil eye.

“Hey, Max,” said Little Janine. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“Let’s cut the crap,” I said, having had quite enough of this twosome.

“What a voice Opal’s cat has, right?” said Little John, and suddenly I noticed that from up close the mocking expression I thought I’d detected on his face was actually more akin to admiration. “I’ve always been such an admirer, you know.”

“Me, too,” said Little Janine. “Remember how we used to watch her on the stage? I always thought she had it in her to be a star. And look at her now.”

“She’s the absolute best,” Little John gushed. “She should have her own show.”

“Wait, you knew that Prunella had such a great voice?” I asked, taken aback by this demonstration of abject fangirling—or as in Little John’s case fanboying.

“Oh, sure,” said Little Janine. “She once sang a song on Opal’s show.”

“It was magical,” said Little John with a little sigh. “Absolutely amazing.”

“We saw you guys head out and so we decided to tag along,” said Little Janine. She gave me a bashful look. “We just figured you wouldn’t want to be seen with us so we kept our distance.”

“Cats like you don’t like dogs like us,” Little John explained.

“What do you mean, ‘dogs like us?’” I asked. I was experiencing that sudden jolt you get when you walk down the stairs and think you’ve reached the ground floor only to discover there’s one extra step you didn’t count on. Very annoying!

“Well, obviously you’re famous, Max, and so is the rest of your crew.”

“Famous? What are you talking about?”

Little Janine laughed uncertainly.“Well… you’re Max.The Max.“

I stared at her, quite discombobulated.“Yes?”

“We’ve been reading about you, Max—in theGazette. The articles Odelia writes? You’re the cat she often refers to, aren’t you? The Max from the stories?”

“But… do you get theGazette over in England?”

“Of course we do, silly,” said Little Janine. “The internet is everywhere.”

I sank down on my haunches, shaking my head. I still didn’t get it.