Purrfect Gems, page 2
“Exactly!” I said. “So you tell Odelia that you don’t like the lavender litter, and ask her why she didn’t get you the usual stuff, which you’ve used and enjoyed for many years.”
He opened his eyes. “I hope she doesn’t buy us the lavender litter, Max. I don’t want to get constipated, you know. Before you know it, Odelia will take us to the vet and that’s never a fun prospect.”
“It’s just a hypothetical situation, Dooley,” I assured him. “Nobody is buying us lavender-scented litter.”
“Oh, phew!” he said, looking much relieved.
“But you see what I mean? You go and buy what you think is a fine type of litter, a type of litter you will enjoy, but instead what you get is something completely different. Something that makes it almost impossible to do your business. And the same thing goes for Brutus and Harriet.”
He nodded pensively. “Okay, so in this scenario, who’s the poo and who’s the pee? Or better yet, who’s the lavender and who’s the litter?” But then his face cleared. “Oh, I know. Harriet is the lavender and Brutus is the litter, right?”
“What’s all this about litter?” asked a familiar voice. It belonged to Brutus, and as usual the butch black cat had stealthily snuck up on us like a panther.
“Oh, Brutus,” said Dooley, well pleased. “We were just talking about you. You’re the litter and Harriet is the lavender, and if you don’t like it, you have to tell Odelia and she will return it to the store and get you the regular kind.” He leaned in. “I don’t like lavender either,” he confessed. “Though I know some cats swear by it.”
Brutus looked confused, and I didn’t blame him. I would have been confused if I was being compared to a bag of litter. “What are you talking about?” he demanded.
“We were discussing Harriet’s operation,” I told him.
Immediately his face sagged, and so did the rest of him. It was interesting to watch: almost as if his spine suddenly turned to jelly and so did the rest of his bones. He dropped to the ground and just lay there, looking quite forlorn. “It’s terrible,” he lamented. “Of all the horrible tricks life has ever pulled, this one takes the cake. Can you imagine me dating a guy? Me?!”
“But you’re not dating a guy,” Dooley pointed out. “You’re dating Harriet.”
“Who is soon going to turn herself into a guy!” Brutus cried in dismay. Big tears were now rolling down his cheeks. “I’ve been trying to talk her out of it, but she says it has to be done. In fact it’s the only way to make a career.”
Dooley patted him on the back. “It’s all right, Brutus. I don’t like lavender, either. Not for a poo and not for a pee.”
This only served to make him cry even harder. Finally, when his grief was spent, he turned a teary face to me. “Max,” he said in a croaky voice. “Max, my dear, dear friend. Can’t you talk sense into her? Tell her she can’t just go and change…” He quickly glanced at Dooley. “Well, it?”
Dooley smiled. “What’s ‘it,’ Brutus?”
Brutus swallowed. “Well, the operation, of course.”
Dooley must have sensed there were deeper mysteries that needed to be plumbed, for he followed up with, “What exactly is going to happen when Harriet has the operation?”
Brutus and I shared a look of concern. “Um…” I said, returning to my favorite old standby. Then I thought I saw movement at the molehill and said, “Oh, look! It’s Jackie!”
Dooley’s attention immediately turned to the object under observation, and when he failed to locate Jackie, he approached the molehill in question to study it from up close. It was then that a creature did burst out of the ground, almost hitting Dooley on the nose and causing the three of us to scream out in surprise.
It wasn’t a mole, though, and it definitely wasn’t Jackie. It was a rat. And a very large, hairy rat at that!
CHAPTER 3
The rat stared at me and I stared right back, even though every instinct I had told me to run to the hills! Unfortunately there aren’t any hills in the immediate vicinity of our home, so that wasn’t the solution I was looking for either. So instead I just sat there, and wondered if this was one of those life-defining moments you always hear so much about. You know, when the rubber meets the road, and a tectonic shift takes place in one’s life. Would I be able to define a ‘before the rat’ and an ‘after the rat’ moment in my life? As all these thoughts and a lot more flashed through my mind, I didn’t think I had any hope left, and that in fact my last moment had come. In other words, it was one of those ‘see your life flash before you eyes’ type of situations. At least until the rat finally opened its mouth and spoke.
“Hey there, fellas,” he said, and I could see that his nostrils quivered a little. Whether in happy anticipation of having a little chat with us or from an urgent desire to gobble us up whole I did not know. “My name is Footsie. What’s yours?”
“Max,” I said after swallowing once or twice. Could it be? Could it be that this rat—this massive rodent—didn’t have as its primary desire to hunt us down and slay us and have us for lunch? It was hard to believe.
“Dooley,” said Dooley with a noticeable quiver in his voice. “My name is Dooley and I hope you’re not going to eat me, Mr. Rat. I’m not very tasty, you see. And I have a lot of hair. And we all know that hair is very hard to digest.”
The rat merely grinned at this, showing two sets of razor-sharp teeth that didn’t give me any faith in the happy ending.
“And who might you be?” asked the rat, addressing Brutus.
“B-b-brutus,” said Brutus, and he looked as pale and drawn as any black cat can look. “My name is B-b-brutus.”
“So nice to finally make your acquaintance,” said Footsie. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you guys, you see. Ever since I arrived here in this very nice backyard of yours, I’ve been wondering what makes you people tick, you know. I mean, what’s the situation? There’s this woman, and then there’s a guy, but there’s also all of these other people. And even an infant. And so when I saw you guys parading past on a regular basis, I told myself: Footsie, I said, you really have to work up the courage to address these nice folks. And so when I heard you talking just now, I knew the time had to come to put my money where my mouth was and just venture out and do it!” He swung a tiny fist as he spoke these words, and I have to say I was quite surprised by this do-or-die speech.
“You were… nervous about meeting us?” I asked.
“Oh, sure. You may not know this, but rats are a very timid species. And since I never knew my father, I’m even more timid than most. It’s a Freudian thing. And then there’s the fact that my mom was very protective, you know. She always kept me close and never let me go off on my own. And that kind of stuff has an impact on a young rat.” He shrugged. “I can tell I’m boring you with my life story. So what’s your story? Have you lived here long? Are you three brothers? And what’s with all the humans that keep coming and going all the time? The old lady—”
“That’s Gran,” said Dooley. “She’s Odelia’s grandmother.” And so in short order he gave the rat a brief overview of the family we lived with. But even as he rattled off the family connections, Brutus kept giving him nonverbal hints, which Dooley blithely ignored.
I guess Brutus had a point. There was no sense in giving this rat the ins and outs of the family we lived with, the lay of the land, so to speak. After all, maybe his good-natured bonhomie was simply a ruse, and Footsie was the mere vanguard of a veritable rat army, waiting to strike.
I hoped that wasn’t the case, of course, but sometimes you have to be careful. And as Odelia’s cats, we do have an obligation toward our family. We may not be guard dogs, per se, but in a sense they do rely on us to act as their protectors.
“Okay, I think that’s enough, Dooley,” I said therefore, when our friend had been going on for a while and was getting into the nitty gritty of what made our family tick. “I’m sure Footsie isn’t interested in all of that stuff.”
“Oh, but I most certainly am,” said Footsie. “In fact I absolutely love it. You see, I never had a human family of my own to take care of me, so in a way I’m a little envious of the bonds you have obviously managed to create here.”
“They are a nice bunch,” Brutus admitted, though he continued to look skeptical, I have to say.
“They are great people,” said Dooley, enthusiastically endorsing our humans. “The absolute best, in fact.”
Suddenly a sort of wistful look came over the big rat. “Oh, I wish I could move in with you. Wouldn’t that be nice? To wake up every morning at the foot of your very own human’s bed, seeing your little bowl of food ready and filled to the brim with the good stuff? Getting cuddles and caresses at all hours of the day and night. Someone to take care of you and love you and treat you like one of their own…”
Dooley smiled. And before we could stop him, he said, “So why don’t you move in with us, Footsie? There’s plenty of room for you in the house. And plenty of love in Odelia’s heart to accommodate a nice upstanding rat like you.”
“Dooley!” Brutus hissed, looking quite shocked now.
“What?” said Dooley innocently. “It’s true, though, isn’t it? Odelia has plenty of space in her heart since she has a very big heart. And the house is big enough to accommodate another pet. And Footsie is such a nice, well-behaved rat I think he will be a great addition to the family. So what do you say, Footsie? Do you want to join us?”
Footsie was positively beaming at us now. “Are you kidding me? I would love to join your family. Absolutely.”
“Consider it done,” said Dooley. He held out his paw. “Welcome to the family, Footsie!”
Oh, boy.
CHAPTER 4
Dooley felt very happy with himself. His role in the family structure was usually the meek and mild one, with the others taking the lead—alternatively this could be Max, or Brutus, or Harriet, but hardly ever Dooley. And now he had taken a leading role and he had to admit he liked the feeling it had given him. He felt powerful—strong. Like a real leader! And so as Footsie retreated back into the hole that had once been the entrance to the lair built by Jackie and Dave, to gather his stuff, as he explained it, and would return in due course to take up his newfound position in the family, Dooley turned to his friends with a big triumphant smile on this face.
“Our family of four has just turned into a family of five!” he said almost jubilantly.
But the expressions he met weren’t as jubilant as he was feeling. On the contrary, both Max and Brutus looked upset for some reason. Brutus was the first to speak.
“How could you?” he said in a low voice.
“How could I what?” asked Dooley, thoroughly mystified.
“How could you invite a rat to live with us! A rat, Dooley!”
“He’s a very nice rat,” said Dooley defensively. “In fact you hardly notice he’s a rat at all. He could be a cat, only his nose is probably a little pointier. And I’m sure he’s as fond of kibble as we are.” He turned to his best friend. “Max? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Because I’m a little upset, Dooley” said Max, quite surprisingly.
“Upset? But why?”
“Because you just invited a rat to live with us,” said Max with a shrug, repeating almost the same thing Brutus had said. “Maybe you should at least have consulted with Odelia before you invited Footsie into our home. I mean, it is her house, and she’ll be the one who has to feed Footsie, and give him his own space in the form of a spot on the couch.”
“I wonder what rats eat,” said Brutus with a frown. “Mice, probably. Or bugs, maybe? They certainly don’t eat kibble, like we do.”
“I think Footsie is a very nice rat,” Dooley repeated stubbornly. “And he’s very well-behaved. And I think he’ll make for a great addition to the family.” Though Max did have a point that he probably should have consulted with Odelia first. She was, after all, the owner of the house, and so technically she would have to approve any additions made to the roster of pets allowed to live with them.
“I think we should put this to a vote,” said Max now. “All in favor of allowing Footsie to live with us, raise your paw.”
Dutifully, Dooley held up his paw. Unfortunately Max and Brutus didn’t, which made this a painful process.
“You gotta love democracy,” said Brutus with a grin. “Looks like you lost, Dooley. Better tell Footsie when he comes back that your invitation has been rescinded after a majority vote.”
“But I don’t want to tell Footsie that he can’t come and live with us,” said Dooley. “Oh, look, you guys, can’t you just give him a chance? You’ll see, he’ll fit right in. I just know he will. I have a hunch about Footsie.”
“And I have a hunch that he won’t fit in at all,” said Brutus. “And my hunches are usually correct. Wouldn’t you agree, Max?”
But Max wasn’t committing himself to any endorsement of Brutus’s powerful powers of hunchdom. Instead, he said, “We could always accept him for a two-week trial period. See how it goes. Then if things don’t work out, we can have another vote, and this time include Odelia and Chase in the process, as we should have done now.”
It was a decent compromise, and one Dooley could definitely live with. Brutus didn’t seem convinced. “Let’s simply deny him now,” he suggested. “And make sure he never sets paw inside our home. Rats are harbingers of all kinds of bacteria and lethal diseases. So the further we keep him away from us and our family, the better off we are.”
“We could wash him,” said Dooley. “Make him take a bath before he sets foot inside the house? Or we could take him to Vena and make sure he gets a full check-up before he comes and lives with us. Wouldn’t that be a better idea than simply to deny him access to our lovely home? After all, we should share what we have, Brutus. Not hog all the good stuff and leave the rest of the animal kingdom to languish in darkness and despair.” Both Max and Brutus stared at him. He frowned. “Did I say something funny?”
“No, quite the contrary,” said Max with a smile.” You said something very wise and very important, Dooley.”
“Very deep,” Brutus admitted. “Very deep indeed.”
Dooley smiled a little self-consciously. He wasn’t aware that his statement had been any deeper than anything else he’d said. But he would take the compliment, as he rarely received them, and Brutus was stingy with them anyway.
A soft mewling sound came from nearby, and soon they were joined by Harriet, who looked a little perturbed. “Hey, you guys,” she said. “Now look what she did.”
They all looked, and when Dooley didn’t see anything out of the ordinary, he asked, “Who did what, Harriet?”
“Marge, of course,” said Harriet. “Who else?” Her eyes turned upward, and when Dooley followed the movement, he finally saw. Harriet had a big pink bow on top of her head for some reason.
Dooley laughed. “Oh, you look funny, Harriet. You look like an Easter egg.”
“I’ll bet that’s where she got the idea,” Harriet grumbled. “She must have been looking at sites for Easter decorations and liked the bow so she decided to try it out on poor old me.”
“I think it looks… interesting,” said Brutus, who could barely contain his glee.
“Oh, don’t you start,” said Harriet. “It looks horrible, doesn’t it? And I look horrible.”
“No, you look fine,” Brutus assured her. “Very, um… feminine.”
Harriet cut him a look that could kill, and Brutus wiped the smile from his face.
“Don’t you understand? I don’t want to look feminine,” Harriet lamented. “I want to look butch. I want to look like you, Brutus. Very manly and very butch. It’s the only way to get ahead in this world, after all. Nobody pays any mind to girls like me. But if I were a man, now that would be a different story.”
“I thought you wanted to be a diva?” said Max.
“I do want to be a diva,” Harriet agreed. “But nowadays all the best divas are men, aren’t they? Like that kid with the tattoos. What’s his name? Harry Styles. And all of those rappers. They’re all men, and they’re very successful, too.”
“There are a lot of female divas,” Max pointed out. “Like Celine and Mariah and Barbra and Adele. I thought you wanted to be like them, Harriet?”
That’s what Dooley also thought. But apparently not, since Harriet shook her head decidedly.
“It’s no use. The people you’re referring to are the exception to the rule. Most successful people in the world are men, and women have a hard time getting ahead. So from now on I’m going to be a male, and I hope you respect that.”
Brutus looked decidedly unhappy, Dooley saw, and now he finally understood why. They had talked about this, and it was exactly as Max had said: when you’re used to having your litter smell like one thing, and suddenly it smells like something else entirely, it’s not a lot of fun. So he patted their good friend on the back. “You’ll just have to learn to like lavender, Brutus. There’s no other way.”
For his intervention he got giggles from both Max and Brutus, and a blank look from Harriet. So he told her, “You’re the lavender-scented litter, Harriet, when you turn into a male. And Brutus isn’t used to lavender-scented litter, so it’s going to take a little getting used to, you see.”
But obviously Harriet didn’t see, for she continued to stare at him. Then finally she decided simply to ignore him, as she often did. With a sweep of her tail, she said, “So please do me a favor, sugar cakes, and remove this dreadful bow from my head.”
It was with some reluctance that Brutus complied with her urgent request, and when finally the bow was lying on the lawn, they all stared at it. For some reason Dooley had the impression its removal marked the advent of some new adventure, though he couldn’t quite see what form it would take. And, perhaps more importantly, what smell.
