Melody said something, and Max spun around to see her smiling at Joe. She’d used the voice. The voice that was for Max and only Max. Kind of soft and sweet.
Max knew it was coming, but he’d hoped it wouldn’t be so soon. Joe and Melody disappeared into the bedroom. Max tried to follow, but the door closed in his face.
Max stood on his hind legs to scratch and paw at the doorknob, trying to turn it. From inside, Melody laughed and told him to behave.
Behave? This was his house. That was his bedroom.
Max wished he could turn back the clock to the morning he decided to find Melody a mate. Oh, how foolish he’d been that day. How naive. He’d thought they would be a family-the three of them, the way it had been when David was alive. This-being shut out of the bedroom-was unacceptable.
Max wasn’t even sure where to sleep, because he always slept on the pillow next to Melody’s head. There he could keep an eye on her and feel her soft breath on his whiskers.
He strode through the house several times. There was the cat bed he never used. He sniffed it with distain. On the couch was the blanket that plugged into the wall on cold winter nights. The weather was warm now, and the cord lay forgotten on the floor. The blanket didn’t interest him either. Instead, he sprawled on the floor not far from the bedroom door and waited. Maybe someone would come out soon and he could slip inside.
But it wasn’t until morning that Melody shuffled out to the kitchen in her fuzzy pink slippers to get a drink of water. Max shot inside the room and hid in the closet until she went back to bed. That’s when Max began sniffing Joe’s clothes, then his backpack that had been left on the floor. The zipper was down, which made it easy for Max to dig around inside. His paw came into contact with something hard. He dug more, pulling a T-shirt out of the way. There, hidden deep in the backpack, was something Max had hoped to never see again.
For a moment, Max was too scared to move. Too scared to think.
The people in the bed were paying no attention to him. Maybe they were asleep, maybe they were cuddling. He didn’t even want to know. Max finally ran from the room, but once in the kitchen he couldn’t quit thinking about the backpack. He had to look in it again. Maybe he could scare the thing into leaving. Maybe he could pull it into the light where it might not look the same, where it might not look like what he thought it was.
He returned to the bedroom, creeping silently. He sneaked up on the backpack. He gingerly placed a paw inside, pulled hard, and jumped. Carefully, he moved forward again. The light in the room was dim, but his eyes were good. He stepped close enough to make out something metal. Something shiny. A gun, sticking out of a leather holster. Just like the gun that had killed David.
Chapter 6
Just pretend they aren’t there.
That’s what Max kept telling himself, but how did you ignore a massive litter of screaming brats?
Today was something called Earth Day, and Melody was reading from a Dr. Seuss book at Joe’s shelter. Really, could these wild animals even grasp the odd world of some crazy old guy with a beard? Did they care about the message? Max doubted it. And quite honestly, he didn’t care either. Sure, he liked trees. He loved trees, but on his walk to the shelter he’d seen a lot of trees. And there was that big green space. A lot of trees there too. So what was the big deal?
Of course he wouldn’t have been quite as grumpy if he hadn’t been wearing something Melody called a thneed. She’d been thrilled about it last night when she’d put in on him for a test drive. Made out of yarn, with dangly appendages. He’d liked that. Oh, had he ever, but she’d gotten cross when he began shredding the outfit.
Now he was sitting on a low table, dressed in the lime-green thneed, waiting for story time to end.
And it hadn’t even started.
Joe was there. This had all been Joe’s idea. Joe, Joe, Joe. Everything was Joe now, and Max hadn’t yet figured out how to break them up, but by God he was working on it.
He felt something on his head.
He held his breath and didn’t move and didn’t blink.
Ignore.
“Hey, kitty.” A giant face appeared right in front of him, just inches away.
“How are you, kitty?”
He had to pull back slightly to get the face in focus. A kid. Of course. Wispy blond hair that looked like it had come from a milkweed. Rosy cheeks and lips. A sweet shyness in her eyes that took Max completely by surprise.
She smiled. With her stubby little hand, she patted him on the head. Nothing that even came close to a real pet or stroke. Just this awkward pat that he hardly felt. Could anything be more innocent or charming?
Deep inside, he felt a response he’d previously associated with Melody. A softening of his heart. And then it was gone, and he was once again wishing he were home, coming down from a catnip high while lying in a patch of sunshine.
Melody placed a chair next to the table. “Everybody sit on the floor.”
Max was surprised when the kids obeyed. They scrambled for the rug, sitting cross-legged, heads bent back, shifting and squirming the way kids do. The little girl with the milkweed hair gave him one final smile and swirled away. But she didn’t go far. She parked herself close to the table, within touching distance of Max.
He wondered if Joe would give him chicken.
Melody opened the book. It was a big book. She’d read the story to him last night for practice. A long story. Kids today didn’t have the patience to sit through a story that long. Especially a book story. No, they needed TV and games and visual sedation.
Max was mistaken.
They grew quiet and still. Melody didn’t even have to raise her voice. And what a voice she had. So soft and soothing, so compelling. Max himself was rapt, watching her face as she read, watching the soft curve of her shiny dark hair as it fell against her neck.
He heard a footfall and looked up to see Joe reaching blindly for a chair, sitting down, his expression similar to that of the kids. Oh, man. The guy was in love, and who could blame him? What a shame, because Max was going to have to put a stop to this whole thing. He hadn’t quite figured out the when and how, but he’d brought them together. He could break them up.
Even though Max was on cat time, the reading seemed to move quickly. Before he knew it, Melody was shutting the book and picking up Max, pulling him onto her lap.
“You were such a perfect gentleman,” she told him. She sounded so proud, and Max felt himself expanding a little, his head going a bit higher.
“Does anybody want to pet him before we leave?”
Good Lord. Not an open invitation.
All of the kids-every last one of them-scrambled to their feet, and suddenly Max was being mobbed by sticky hands and jostling bodies. A Beatle in their heyday couldn’t have gotten more unwanted attention. Where were the bouncers? He needed bouncers!
“Easy,” Melody said, pulling Max closer and shielding him with her arm.
“You’re scaring him!” the girl with the milkweed hair told the mob.
Melody stood with Max in her arms. Suddenly Joe was there, trying to control the out-of-control brats.
Max hoped he’d whip out his gun and tell them to get back, but he didn’t. He just told them they were being too rough.
The kids whimpered and calmed down. Some stalked away, and others stood waiting for instructions. Those with patience were allowed to pet Max. And then it was over. He would never have to endure such public humiliation again.
Without touching him, the little milkweed girl looked into his eyes and said, “I hope you come back, Max.”
Regarding him in a way that said she knew he understood every word she said. Somebody once told him that cats didn’t steal a baby’s breath. No, cats breathed souls into humans. Otherwise every kid on the planet would be a raging sociopath.
