“They have caviar?” asked Dooley.
“Sure. They’ve got everything.”
“They sure do,” said Odelia quietly, her face suddenly heaving into view. She then proceeded to distribute sizable morsels of the most delicious fish dish I’d ever tasted. “There’s more where that came from,” she promised. She then tapped my nose. “How are you feeling, flyboy?”
“Great,” I said. “Thanks to Chase.”
“He’s something else, isn’t he?” she said, smiling.
“He’s the best,” I said, also smiling.
“Does he have a sheep?” asked Dooley.
But Odelia had already moved out of earshot, on a mission to procure us more food. People were dancing, the band was rocking, and I was starting to experience that mellow feeling that comes upon you when adrenaline levels start settling down. I could suddenly feel a nap coming on, and so when our humans started drifting towards the cars, I didn’t complain. The entire drive back I slept like a log, and so did Dooley, Harriet and Brutus. I’d always wondered what divine intervention looked like, and now I knew it firsthand. Though I’d call it Chase Intervention instead—after my hero and savior.
Odelia was one lucky woman. And I was one very lucky cat. And I was still basking in that warm and fuzzy glow when the car suddenly jounced to a halt and Odelia announced in chipper tones, “Wake up, you guys. We’re here!”
When I glanced out the window I recognized where we were and promptly broke out in a cold sweat.
Oh, no.
Vena’s!
Chapter 37
“So what have we here?!” boomed Vena.
I cringed, and so did the rest of the cat contingent. Vena has that effect on cats. She has a big voice, an even bigger personality, and resembles The Rock in more ways than one. She stood before us, hands planted on her hips, a mass of muscle and hearty good cheer.
“They’ve got a cold,” Odelia intimated.
“Yeah, they’ve been sneezing and coughing all day,” Gran chimed in.
“The poor dears,” Marge added.
“Let’s have a look,” said Vena. Without effort, she picked me up and plunked me down on the operating table. I fully expected her to start probing me with all manner of metal implements before plunging some type of syringe into my neck but instead her surprisingly gentle touch and warm hands performed a quick but thorough examination.
“Mh,” she said. “He’s got a cold, all right, but only a minor one. Nothing to worry about.” She gave me a tickle behind the ears. “You’ll be right as rain in no time, Max.”
“Oh, that’s great news,” said Odelia.
“Thanks… Vena,” I said, surprised to get off so easy.
“You’re welcome, buddy,” she said, almost as if she could understand what I said.
“See?” said Gran. “I told you not to worry.”
“I didn’t worry,” I said indignantly.
“No, but I did,” said Dooley.
“Dooley is the worrier of this little gang of cats,” said Odelia with a smile.
In short order, my friends underwent the same treatment, until finally Brutus was on the table.
“He’s got spots,” said Odelia. “So you may want to look at those.”
“Spots?” asked Vena. “What spots?”
“Red spots. On my chest,” said Brutus. “Do you think it’s cancer? Am I going to die? I was baptized last night. Shanille said Jesus would save me but I’m not sure she wasn’t full of crap. She’s the reason we got this cold, you know. She dunked us into this gigantic vat of ice water and now I feel worse than ever, so—”
“Stop babbling, Brutus,” said Harriet.
Brutus abruptly stopped babbling.
“He has spots on his chest,” said Odelia, translating Brutus’s gibberings. “Red spots.”
“Probably been drinking,” said Gran. “What?” she added when Marge rolled her eyes. “Pets can have a drinking problem, too. You should have seen my husband’s dog Rex. The two of them always went on their benders together. Came home drunk as skunks.”
“I don’t have a drinking problem,” Brutus said indignantly. “Teetotaler all the way.”
“It’s so funny the way your cats talk, Odelia,” said Vena with a smile.
“Yeah, they’re real talkative,” said Gran. “Blabbermouths, the lot of them.”
“I wonder where they get it from,” Marge murmured.
“Let’s check those nasty spots, shall we?” Vena said, and parted Brutus’s fur like Moses the Red Sea.
Brutus giggled. “You’re tickling me,” he laughed.
“Mh,” said Vena finally. “Myes. I see what you mean. Spots. Red ones.”
Brutus stopped giggling. Instead, a look of panic came over his face. “Oh, no!” he cried. “It’s cancer! She’s going to put me down! Please don’t let her put me down! Save me! I’m too young to die! Don’t let me dieeeeee!”
Odelia smiled indulgently but didn’t respond. Long experience has taught her it’s unwise to be seen talking feline in front of other people. Even veterinarians. Especially veterinarians. They might put her down instead. “So what do you think?” she asked.
“Pollen!” Vena boomed.
“Pollen?”
“Pollen! Nothing to worry about.”
“But I thought pollen affected the eyes and nose?”
“Not with cats it doesn’t. Pollen leads to atopic dermatitis, also known as skin allergy.” She gave Brutus a pat on the head. “Which is what this fellow is suffering from. Usually the rash will appear on the outside of the ears, on the head, face or paws. In this big fella’s case it manifested on the chest. Nothing that some medication won’t take care of.”
“That’s great,” said Odelia, clearly greatly relieved.
“Wait, I’m not going to die?” asked Brutus.
“No, you’re not,” I said. “Just an allergy. To pollen.”
“What’s pollen?” asked Dooley.
“It’s the yellow powdery stuff you find inside flowers,” I said.
“Huh,” said Brutus. He looked down at Harriet. “Babe! I’m not going to die!”
“Of course you’re not going to die,” said Harriet, looking peeved. “Making a big fuss about nothing.” And she stalked off, her tail high. But when she passed me, she gave me a wink. She might not have shown it, but I knew she’d been worried about her mate, too.
And while Vena discussed Brutus’s treatment with Odelia, I happened to glance up at a shelf that was littered with Thank You cards from grateful pet owners, boxes of medicine samples, plush cats and dogs and all manner of pet toys. It also contained a mock-up of a hamburger—the popular dog toy. It was one of those plastic hamburgers, looking pretty realistic, too, and instantly reminded me of Big Mac. And as I stared at the hamburger, I was suddenly struck with an idea so novel and riveting that I momentarily forgot where I was. Only when Odelia told me it was time to go did I become aware of my surroundings again.
All the way home I found myself lost in thought, and by the time we arrived at Casa Odelia I’d made up my mind about the course of action to take. I could have told Odelia but I thought it was probably better to check out a few things first. And I knew exactly who to ask.
Chapter 38
That night, a soothing blanket of darkness and silence had draped itself across the happy little town of Hampton Cove, that jewel in the Hamptons crown. Revelers were enjoying the nightlife in places like Southampton, East Hampton or Montauk, but here locals slept the sleep of the peaceful. So did Odelia who, after a long and strenuous day, enjoyed the warmth of her comfy bed and would have enjoyed it even more if not a strange voice had suddenly started competing with the sweet dreams she was entertaining.
She frowned, the blanket of sleep rudely ripped apart, and opened her eyes.