Witchy Worries

by Nic Saint

  “I guess she felt I deserved it. I have been helping her solve murder case after murder case lately.”

  “Me too, but I didn’t get any special treats.”

  “You have to file your complaint with Gran, Dooley. She is your human, after all.”

  Dooley’s Ragamuffin face sagged. “Gran has been too busy to notice me lately.”

  “Too busy? Why, what’s she been up to?”

  “Beats me. She’s been receiving packages in the mail. A lot of them. In fact Marge and Tex are pretty much fed up with her. Seems like they’re the ones who have to pay for all those packages.”

  Perhaps now would be a good time to make some introductions, especially for the people who haven’t been following my adventures closely. My name is Max, as you have probably deduced, and I’m something of a private cat sleuth. Since Odelia is a reporter and always in need of fresh and juicy stories, I’m only too happy to supply them. My frequent collaborator on these outings is Dooley, my best friend and neighbor. Dooley’s human is Vesta Muffin, Odelia’s grandmother who lives next door. Dooley is my wingcat. My partner in crime. Between you and me, Dooley is not exactly the brightest bulb in the bulb shop, so it’s a good thing he’s got me. I’m smart enough for the both of us.

  “Why don’t I give you a paw up?” Dooley asked now.

  “I don’t know…” I muttered. I glanced behind Dooley, making sure he was alone. If we were going to do this, I didn’t want there to be any witnesses.

  Dooley followed my gaze. “What are you looking at?” Then he got it. “Oh, if you’re looking for Harriet, she was fast asleep in Brutus’s paws. Those two must have had a rough night.”

  My face clouded. Being reminded of Brutus usually has a souring effect on my mood. You see, Brutus is what us cats call an intruder. He came waltzing into our lives a couple of weeks ago and has refused to leave ever since. He belongs to Chase Kingsley, a cop Odelia has taken a liking to, but seems to spend an awful lot of time next door, cozying up to Harriet, Odelia’s mom’s white Persian.

  I made up my mind. “Let’s do this,” I grunted. If we didn’t, Odelia might wake up of her own accord, and I’d miss my window of opportunity to put in some much-needed snuggle time.

  Dooley padded up to me and plunked down on his haunches. “How do you want to do this?”

  “Simple. I jump and you give me a boost.”

  “You mean, like, on the count of three or something?”

  “Or something.” I got ready, poised at the foot of the bed and said, “One—two—”

  “Wait,” Dooley said. “Are we doing this on three or after three?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Do I boost you on three, or right after?”

  “Why would you boost me right after? The count of three usually means the count of three, Dooley.”

  “So, one, two, three and boost? Or one, two, three, pause, and then boost?”

  “One, two, three, boost,” I said, starting to lose my patience. “Now, are we doing this or not?”

  He thought about this for a moment, a puzzled look on his face. “Do you want to do this?”

  “Of course I want to do this! Preferably before we die of old age.”

  Dooley’s eyes went wide. “Die of old age? Do you think we’re dying, Max?!”

  “No, we’re not dying! I just want to put in some snuggle time, is that so hard to understand?”

  “Oh, right,” he said, understanding dawning. “I thought you said we were dying.”

  For some reason Dooley has been obsessing about dying lately. Usually I can talk him out of it, but then he sees something on TV and the whole thing starts all over again.

  “Are you ready?”

  Dooley nodded. “I’m ready, Max.”

  “One—two—”

  “Wait!”

  I groaned. “What is it now?”

  “Where do I boost you?”

  “Up the bed! Where else?”

  “No, I mean, do I boost your butt or your hind paws or what? I’m new to this boosting business,” he explained apologetically.

  “It’s not exactly an Olympic discipline, Dooley. There are no rules. You can boost me wherever you want.” On second thought… “Though stay away from my butt.”

  “Right. Stay away from your butt. So where…”

  “Anywhere but my butt! Now one—two—”

  “Max!”

  “What?!”

  “What if I boost you too hard and you end up flying across the bed and down the other side?”

  I fixed him with a hard look. “Trust me, Dooley, the chances of that happening are slim to none. I mean, look at us. I’m like the Dwayne Johnson of cats and you’re more like Andrew Garfield in Hacksaw Ridge, all scrawny and mangy. You’ll be lucky if you can boost me a couple inches, which is all I need,” I hastened to add.

  “Do you think I’m too mangy?” asked Dooley with a frown.

  “Not too mangy. You’re just thin is all. A very healthy thin.”

  “Not a sickly thin? Like an I’m-about-to-die thin?”

  Oh, God. I did not need this aggravation. “Absolutely not. More like a my-name-is-Gwyneth-Paltrow-and-I’m-willowy-and-gorgeous kind of thin.”

  “I thought you said I looked like Andrew Garfield?”

  “In a very Gwyneth Paltrow-y way.”

  This seemed to please him, as he gave me a grateful smile. “Why, thanks, Max. That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

  “Great. Now about that boost?”

  “Oh! Right! I forgot all about that.”

  “Focus, Dooley. Now, are you ready?”

  “Ready,” he said, his face a study in concentration.

  “One—two—three—”

  “Boost!” he cried and placed both paws on my butt, giving me a mighty shove.

  And… we had liftoff! Only it didn’t last very long, nor did it carry me where I was aiming to go. Instead, I plunked right back down again, landing on top of Dooley, who ended up squeezed beneath my sizable buns.

  There was a momentary pause, while we both figured out what went wrong, then Dooley croaked, “Can you please lift your butt, Max? You’re choking me!”

  Applause broke out behind us, and a loud cackling sound, and when I looked up, I saw we’d been joined by Harriet and Brutus. The latter was applauding, a Draco Malfoy-type sneer on his mug, and Harriet was doing the cackling, apparently finding the whole scene hilarious.

  “What’s so funny?” I asked with an angry look at the newly arrived.

  “You!” Brutus cried. “You’re so fat you can’t even jump on the bed!”

  “I’m not fat! I’m just… experiencing some issues with my takeoff.”

  “Issues with your takeoff! You’re not an airplane, Max. You’re a cat. A cat too fat to fly!” Harriet dissolved into giggles while Brutus was laughing so hard his belly shook.

  “Max!” Dooley breathed. “You’re… choking… me…”

  I released Dooley by lifting my butt, then resumed my scowling. “I’m not fat—I’m big-boned. There’s a difference. And Odelia probably bought a new bed, that’s all. I never had any trouble jumping into the old bed, which was still here yesterday morning. Isn’t that right Dooley?”

  But Dooley was still catching his breath, taking big gulps of it.

  “That’s the exact same bed as always,” said Brutus. He narrowed his eyes at me. “Girlfriend stealer.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Here we go again.”

  Brutus had walked up to me and poked my chest with his paw. “You kissed my girlfriend, Max. I saw you so don’t try to deny it.”

  “I didn’t kiss anyone! She kissed me!”

  “That’s what you say.”

  “Because that’s what happened!”

  He leaned in and dropped his voice to a whisper. “I thought we had an understanding, Max. I thought you and I were friends. And then you went and did a thing like that.” He pursed his lips. “You’re despicable. There’s no
other word for it.”

  “I didn’t kiss her,” I hissed. “She kissed me. I’m not even interested in Harriet!”

  “What are you two whispering about?” Harriet asked with a laugh.

  “Nothing, honey bunch,” said Brutus in his sweetest voice. “Just clearing up some stuff.”

  “Max is right, Brutus,” Dooley loud-whispered. “Harriet kissed him, not the other way around. And he didn’t even like it, did you, Max?” These last words were spoken with a look of reproach in my direction. Dooley has always fancied Harriet, and he cannot grasp being kissed by that divine feline and not enjoying the experience.

  “I heard you,” said Harriet, tripping up deftly. “And for your information, I didn’t kiss Max.”

  “See?!” Brutus exclaimed triumphantly.

  “My Inner Goddess did.”

  “What?!”

  Harriet raised her chin defiantly. “I can’t be held responsible for every little thing my Inner Goddess does, Brutus. Sometimes she wears a blindfold. I thought I was kissing you, actually. I only realized my mistake when I reached out and the only thing my paw met was a yielding fluffiness where rock-hard muscles should have been.”

  Brutus stared at her. “Go on.”

  She placed a paw on his chest and closed her eyes. “See, now that I’m feeling your steely pecs I know it’s you. That was my mistake. I kissed first and touched later.”

  I groaned loudly. “Yielding fluffiness?!”

  “Shut up, Max,” said Brutus. “Watch and learn.”

  And then the two of them locked lips. Instinctively I held up a paw to cover Dooley’s eyes. He did not have to see this. He seemed to appreciate the gesture, for he didn’t slap my paw away. He only asked, when the smooching sounds finally abated, “Is it over yet?”

  “Yes, it is,” I said, lowering my paw. Harriet had kissed me, no doubt about it, but if it made her feel better to lie to both herself and to Brutus, it was fine by me. I didn’t need Brutus going back to his old bullying ways. This détente we had going for us suited me fine, so I was happy when finally the kissing stopped and Brutus slapped me on the back.

  “And that’s how you do it, buddy!”

  “Great,” I muttered. “Now, can you give me a boost? I need to wake up Odelia.”

  “Sure thing,” said Brutus, suddenly in an expansive mood. And as I got ready to take the leap again, he got into position directly behind me, not unlike a running back. And before I could initiate the launch sequence, Brutus was shouting, “Hut one—hut two—hut three—go!”

  I made the mighty jump and… “Owowowow!” Brutus, instead of giving me a regular boost, had dug his nails into my behind! The result was that I flew up onto the bed and landed right on top of Odelia’s sleeping form, and it wasn’t a soft landing either.

  “Ooph!” Odelia grunted, when a flying blorange obstacle landed squarely on her stomach. She stared down at me. “Max! Where’s the fire?!”

  I gave her a sheepish look. “Wakey-wakey.”

  I directed a scathing look at Brutus, who gave me a grin. “See, Max? I knew you could do it!”

  Chapter Two

  “So then Brutus gave me a boost and that’s how I ended up on your stomach,” I finished my account of the recent events.

  Odelia, who’s blond and petite with the most strikingly green eyes, tied the sash of her bathrobe and gave me a worried look. “I better make that appointment with Vena. I knew I should never have put it off.”

  My eyes widened to the size of saucers, which for us cats is considerable, since our eyes are a lot smaller than a human’s eyes to begin with. “Not Vena!”

  “Yes, Vena. With everything that’s been going on I totally forgot to make a new appointment but it’s obvious now that she was right all along.” She placed a comforting hand on my head. “You’re overweight, Max. Totally overweight, and I’ve got no one else to blame but myself.”

  “I’m not overweight. I’m just… big-boned. It runs in the family.”

  “It’s for your own good,” she said. “If you don’t start dieting again, you’ll just get in trouble.”

  “I won’t get in trouble, I promise!” I cried. Anything not to have to go to Vena, who is just about the vet from hell. For some reason she loves sticking me with needles and suggesting to Odelia that she feed me kibble that tastes like cardboard. The woman is my own personal tormentor.

  “It’s not your fault,” Odelia said as she started down the stairs. “I indulge you. I keep buying those snacks that you like so much and I probably overfeed you, too.”

  “No, you don’t,” I said, desperate now. I trotted after her, my paws sounding heavy on the stairs. “I only eat the bare minimum as it is. In fact I’m always hungry.”

  She paused and listened to the pounding my paws made on the stairs. “You hear that? That’s not normal, Max. You’re not supposed to walk like that.”

  “Like what?” I asked, pausing mid-step.

  “Like an elephant trampling in the brush.”

  “I don’t sound like an elephant trampling in the brush,” I said indignantly, but made an effort to tread a little lighter. Only problem was, it’s hard to tread lightly when you’re going downhill. Gravity, you know.

  “And Vena said that when you get too big it’s bad for your heart. Fat tissue builds up around the organ and that’s not a good thing.”

  “My heart is just fine,” I promised, tapping my chest. “Healthy as an ox!”

  “And you look like one, too,” said Brutus. The black cat was right behind me, and obviously enjoying the conversation tremendously.

  “I’ve booked you an appointment, too, by the way, Brutus,” said Odelia now.

  We’d reached the bottom of the stairs and she walked into the kitchen to start up the coffeemaker. How people can drink that black sludge is beyond me, but then a lot of stuff humans do makes no sense at all. Like putting a perfectly healthy cat on a diet!

  “Me!” cried Brutus. “Why me?!”

  “Because Chase told me he doesn’t remember the last time you went. So it might as well have been never.” She frowned. “Though you are neutered, so you must have gone at least once.”

  A deep blush crept up Brutus’s features. At least I think it did. It was hard to be sure with all that dark hair covering his visage. He cut a quick look at Harriet, who pretended she hadn’t heard. “I, um—I’m sure that’s not possible,” he said now.

  “That you’re neutered or that you didn’t go to the vet in years?” Odelia asked deftly, taking a cup and saucer from the cupboard over the sink.

  Brutus appeared to be shrinking before my very eyes, a sight I enjoyed a lot, I have to say. “Both,” he said curtly, now actively avoiding Harriet’s cool gaze.

  “Don’t worry, Brutus,” said Dooley. “We’re all neutered. Max is neutered. I am neutered. Even Harriet is neutered. Isn’t that right, Harriet?”

  “None of your beeswax,” Harriet snapped.

  “Beeswaxed?” asked Dooley. “I’m pretty sure the right word is neutered.”

  “Dooley!” Harriet said with a warning glare.

  “What? What did I say?”

  “Oh, come off it, you guys,” said Odelia, crouching down. “It’s nothing to be ashamed about. If you weren’t neutered I’m sure we’d have a fresh litter every couple of months, and we can’t have that now, can we?”

  “I don’t see why not,” Harriet muttered. It was obviously still a sore point.

  “Because I can’t take care of so many cats,” Odelia said softly. “You see that, don’t you?”

  “Yeah, just do the math,” said Dooley. “Three litters a year times eight kittens a litter that’s…” He frowned, looking goofy for a moment, then said, “… a heck of a lot of cats!”

  “It is,” said Odelia. “And I’d just end up having to bring them to the shelter. And I don’t need to tell you what happens to cats that end up at the animal shelter, do I?”

  “They are adopted by loving humans?” Dooley ven
tured.

  “They die, Dooley,” Brutus growled. “They all die.”

  Dooley uttered a cry of horror and staggered back a few paces. “No, they don’t!”

  “Oh, yes, they do. And then they’re turned into sausages and people eat them!”

  “Brutus!” Odelia said. “Don’t scare Dooley.” She gave Dooley a comforting pat on the back. “They’re not turned into sausages. But they’re not adopted, either, I’m afraid. At least not all of them. Though I’m sure a lot of them find warm and loving families.”

  “See!” Dooley cried triumphantly. “They’re all placed with their very own Odelias!”

  “Thanks,” said Odelia, rising to her feet. “Now about Vena…”

  Lucky for us the bell rang at that exact moment, and Gran came rushing in through the glass sliding door, looking like she was about to lay an egg.

  “Is he here?!” Gran croaked anxiously. “Is he here?!”

  “Is who here?” asked Odelia, moving to the front door.

  “The UPS guy, of course!”

  Gran is a white-haired little old lady, but even though she looks like sweetness incarnate, she’s quite a pistol.

  “See?” asked Dooley, turning to me. “This is what I told you.”

  “What did you tell me?” I asked. The morning had already been so traumatizing my mind had actively started to repress the memories.

  “About Gran ordering a bunch of stuff online and Marge and Tex having to pay for it.”

  Odelia had opened the door and Dooley was right: a pimply teenager in a brown uniform with ‘UPS’ on his chest stood before her, a big, bulky package in his hands. “Vesta Muffin?” he asked.

  “That’s me!” Gran squealed and darted forward, grabbed the package from the teenager’s hands and ran to the living room with it.

  Odelia signed for the package and sent the kid on his way. “What’s going on, Gran?” she asked.

  “Oh, nothing,” said Gran, eagerly tearing open the package.

  We all gathered around, and since it’s hard to see anything from the floor, we all hopped up onto the chairs to have a good look at this mysterious package.

  Gran, licking her lips, finally succeeded in ripping away the packaging, and before us lay three shiny green eggs. Huh.

  “Gran,” said Odelia in her warning voice. It’s the voice she likes to use when me or Dooley have been up to no good, which, obviously, practically never happens.