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“Fine. Brutus, what say you?”

“Um, I reject the glamour of anvil,” said Brutus.

“Max,” whispered Dooley.

“What?”

“I thought I was first!”

“Let’s just go with it,” I suggested. Otherwise we’d be there all night. And Harriet was right. This cold bluestone surface was wreaking havoc on my tender tush.

“Do you believe in the Holy Sprite?” Shanille intoned.

“Spirit,” I muttered.

Shanille gave me a withering look and I mimicked locking my lips and throwing away the key.

“Sure thing, babe,” said Brutus with a grin. Like Big Mac, he was clearly lovin’ it.

“And do you believe in Jesus Christ, our Lord and Savior?”

“Absolutely, toots,” said Brutus, earning himself a scowl from Shanille.

“Brutus, I now baptize you in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Sprite, for the forgiveness of your sins, and the gift of the Holy Sprite.”

“So what about my spots?” asked Brutus.

In response, a clearly irate Shanille gave Brutus a slap on the back that sent the black cat flying into the baptismal font. When he resurfaced, spluttering and splashing, she made the sign of the cross and said,“Consider yourself baptized. Next!”

Dooley, Harriet and I exchanged worried glances. I’d expected a slight splash of water, which was enough to give me chills. But a full-body dunking? No way, Jos?!

“Your turn,” said Brutus, who now looked like a drowned chicken. He sneezed. “Hey, I feel better already.” He quickly checked his spots. “Nah. They’re still there.”

“The benediction might take some time to kick in,” Shanille said. “So who’s next?”

Finally, Harriet stepped to the fore—metaphorically, at least—and said, with a slight shiver of anticipation, “Me. I wanna go next.”

“Fine,” said Shanille. “Harriet, do you reject sin and the glamour of anvil?”

And so it went. Harriet went into the drink, then Dooley, and finally, I was for it, too. I have to say that when all was said and done, I felt distinctly refreshed. Which of course could have had something to do with the fact that the water was pretty darn chilly.

Still, now that I’d put my destiny in the Lord Jesus’s hands, I had the impression that this benediction Shanille had mentioned had descended upon my furry shoulders, too. It was the weirdest thing. As the four of us walked out of that church, it was with a spring in our collective steps, smiles on our faces and a definite swing in our hips.

“I can’t believe we’ll never have to go to Vena anymore,” said Dooley, voicing my thoughts exactly.

“We’ll never get sick again,” said Harriet.

“And we’ll never have to get shots ever again!” I cried.

We all laughed. If there’s one thing us cats hate, it’s shots.

Brutus sneezed, and then, like a chain reaction, so did Dooley, Harriet and me.

Looked like the Lord Jesus had washed away our sins and given us a cold in return.

Chapter 32

When Odelia woke up the next day she wondered for a moment what had awakened her. It wasn’t her alarm—she’d forgotten to set it again—and it wasn’t the sun shining through the curtains either, for the sun hadn’t yet hoisted itself across the horizon yet.

“Achoo!”

She lifted her head from the pillow and saw, in the relative darkness of the room, a small form at the foot of the bed. She smiled and propped herself up on her elbows.

“Max? Is that you sneezing?”

In response, four distinctly different sneezes rang out like cannon shots in the silence of the room.

“Achoo!”

“Achee!”

“Achoum!”

“Achaa!”

She flicked on her bedside Betty Boop lamp and blinked against the sudden light. When her vision cleared, she saw four cats staring back at her. Max, Dooley, Harriet and Brutus. They didn’t look very happy. In fact they looked distinctly despondent.

“You have a cold,” she said matter-of-factly. “All four of you.”

All four cats nodded gloomily.

“I better take you to Vena,” she said.

Four equally cheerless nods, followed by four more sneezes.

“Better tell her about your spots,” said Max.

“Oh, all right,” muttered Brutus.

“What spots?” asked Odelia.

“I have spots on my chest,” Brutus announced. “They’re red.”

“Which is why we now all have a cold,” explained Max.

“I don’t get it,” said Odelia. “How do you go from spots to a cold?”

“It’s a long story,” said Max. “And it involves a baptismal font with very cold water.”

“It’s all Shanille’s fault,” said Harriet. “I should have known that flighty feline would get us into trouble.”

“At least our souls are with Jesus now,” said Dooley.

Odelia blinked. Looked like it had been a long night for her cats. Checking her phone she saw that it wasn’t even five o’clock yet. Pretty sure she wasn’t going to be able to get back to sleep, she decided to get up instead. Moving over to the window, she peeked through the curtains and saw that first light was painting the sky in brilliant reds and blues.

“Can you guys give me a hand or are you too sick to do a little sleuthing?” she asked.

“I’m never too sick to do a little sleuthing,” said Max.

“Great. I saw this on a TV show the other day. It’s called a vision board.”