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Dooley is my best bud, a gray Raggamuffin who belongs to Odelia’s Gran. Brutus is a black cat and… not exactly my buddy. He belongs to Chase Kingsley, a cop and occasional kissmate of Odelia’s. Yes, I know kissmate isn’t a word, but how else can I describe Chase and Odelia’s relationship? They’re not a couple, they just… kiss… sometimes. And flirt a lot, I guess. I know, it’s disgusting, but what can you do? Humans are weird that way.

“Max!” Dooley cried. “Terrible news! Terrible, terrible news!”

I reluctantly heaved my head from the soft blanket.“What is it?” I murmured, then yawned cavernously. Dooley is one of those overexcited cats who get their tail in a twist just because their human got them a new brand of kibble or a new smell of cat litter.

“A new cat,” Dooley said, still panting. “There’s a new cat in town.”

I looked from Dooley to Brutus, who was, at least in my eyes, still the new cat in town, even though by now he’d been here a couple of months.

“No, not me,” Brutus grunted. “A new new cat.”

I frowned.“So? New cats are born every day. What’s so special about this one?”

“He’s not a kitten,” Dooley announced, looking highly perturbed.

“He’s a full-grown cat,” said Brutus. “And he belongs to Chase.”

“Your Chase?”

“My Chase.”

“That’s not possible. Your Chase doesn’t even like cats. He just took you in because his mother is living with her sister who’s allergic to cats.”

It was a long story. Brutus had belonged to Chase’s mom, but when she couldn’t take care of him anymore, Chase had graciously agreed to give him a home. Though he spent most of his time either at Odelia’s or next door, at Odelia’s mom’s place, where Dooley lives with Gran.

“Martha loves cats,” Brutus explained. “She just can’t help herself. So when she saw this rascal roaming the streets, she took him home with her, and immediately got into a huge argument with her sister.”

“So Chase took him over? Again?” I asked, incredulous.

Brutus nodded somberly.“And he’s something else, this one.”

“He’s called Diego and he’s a real charmer. A regular ladies’ cat.”

“Like Brutus, you mean,” I said, giving Brutus a level look.

“I’m not a ladies’ cat,” Brutus protested. “Can I help it that the ladies all love me? It’s not as if I go out of my way to seduce them or anything. They just take one look at me and bingo. They go all gooey on me.”

“That’s a ladies’ cat,” I said in measured tones. “That’s you.”

“You got it all wrong as usual, Maxie, baby,” Brutus growled.

“No, you got it all wrong. As usual,” I countered.

“No, you got it all wrong!”

“No, you got it—”

“It doesn’t matter!” Dooley cried. “Diego is here and Harriet is going to take one look at him and she’s going to go weak at the knees and fall for him!”

“Not my Harriet,” Brutus said, though he didn’t look convinced.

“Your Harriet?” Dooley asked. “Harriet isn’t your Harriet.”

“Oh, yes, she is. I know you’re devastated by the fact that she likes me more than you, but she is mine,” said Brutus with a smirk. “All mine.”

“Harriet isn’t yours. Harriet is a free spirit. She belongs to no one.”

“All mine,” he said in a sing-songy voice. “All the time.”

“Where is Harriet, by the way?” I asked.

Harriet belongs to Odelia’s mom and also lives next door. She’s a white Persian with green eyes. Even though she’s totally not my type I have to admit she’s very pretty. And she likes to hang out with Brutus, he wasn’t lying about that. Much to Dooley’s chagrin, cause he’s got a crush on Harriet himself.

“I have no idea,” said Brutus. “When I woke up just now she wasn’t there.”

I cut a glance at Dooley, and he nodded somberly. Brutus had taken to spending the night at the house, occupying the spot next to Harriet on the bed. When they weren’t traipsing all over town, that was.

Odelia muttered something, and I wasn’t surprised. All this meowing and hissing had probably woken her up. “Now see what you’ve done,” I said. “You’ve gone and woken up my human.”

“What do you care?” Brutus asked. “She needs to get up anyway.”

“I like her to wake up gradually.”

“Max likes to snuggle with Odelia,” said Dooley. “He’s a snuggler.”

It’s a good thing us cats are covered with fur, otherwise Brutus would have noticed the blush that was now creeping up my cheeks.

“I am not,” I said indignantly. “You take that back, Dooley.”

“I’m not taking it back. You are a snuggler. You like to snuggle.”

“Nothing to be ashamed about, Maxie,” said Brutus with a sly grin. “Some cats are snugglers and others aren’t. I for one would never want to be caught dead trying to stick my nose in Chase’s armpit, or sniff at his hair. Yuck. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I like the guy, but that’s nothow we roll.”

“So how do you roll?” I asked, giving him my best scowl.

He studied his claws.“You know, us catly cats just hang, you know. Like bros. Like buds. Chase, Chief Alec and I like to watch the ballgame, knocking back a few brewskis, swapping some off-color stories from our sordid pasts. It’s what real cats do. You wouldn’t understand.”