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“No, but I almost jaywalked this morning before I caught myself. And I’m sure that Brutus did actually jaywalk when he crossed the street to talk to Buster. And then of course Harriet crossed the road less than a hundred yards from a crosswalk.”

“If Brutus jaywalked, and Harriet crossed the street where it wasn’t allowed, don’t you think they’d arrest them, and not us?”

“They could arrest us as accomplices, Max. Or for aiding and abetting a criminal.”

“I doubt that jaywalking cats warrant the dispatching of no less than three squad cars,” I countered. “Besides, traffic rules don’t apply to us, Dooley.”

“They don’t?”

“Of course they don’t.”

“So we can cross the road when the light is red?”

“We can certainly cross the road when the light is red.”

“And fail to come to a full stop when the light turns orange?”

“Absolutely. Those rules are made by humans, for humans. Cats are exempt.”

“But…” He thought about this, and clearly my revelation had blown his mind, for he was conspicuously silent for the next five minutes, as Odelia did her best to console a sobbing Hester, and we all hurried in the direction of the police precinct to talk to Odelia’s uncle, our small town’sresident chief of police, to find out what was going on.

“Okay, but what about murder, Max?” asked Dooley.

“What about it?”

“The penal code says that murder is frowned upon, right?”

“More than frowned upon. Murder is not allowed, Dooley.”

“So if a cat murders another cat, won’t the police arrest this cat?”

All throughout this conversation, I was trying to keep up with Odelia and Hester, who were walking at a fast clip, and frankly I was having a hard time. Cats are built for short bursts of speed, you see, not these long marathons humans are so keen to engage in.

“Cats don’t murder other cats, Dooley,” I said, panting a little. “It’s not in our nature.”

“So what if a cat murders a dog?”

“It’s far more likely to be the other way around. At least if the dog manages to catch the cat, which he won’t, since cats are far too clever to allow themselves to get caught.”

“Okay, so… what about when a cat murders a mouse? Do you think the police will arrest that cat?”

“No, they won’t. There’s nothing in the penal code about it being illegal for a cat to kill a mouse.”

“But that’s bad, Max. That’s very bad.”

“No, it’s not. Mice have a tendency to make an absolute nuisance of themselves, and at this point they’re fair game as far as your average feline is concerned.” Of course personally I’d never stoop so low as to actually kill a mouse, but that’s just me. I’m a peaceable sort of cat, you see, with not an ounce of bloodthirstiness in my genetic makeup.

“Poor mice,” said Dooley, shaking his head. “No police to protect them, or punish their killers. Did you know that sometimes cats will actually eat the mice they catch, Max?”

“Yes, Dooley, I’ve also heard those horror stories.”

“But that’s cannibalism, Max!”

“No, it’s not. Cannibalism is when you eat the flesh of your own species. Mice are not cats, Dooley, so technically speaking it’s not cannibalism.”

“It’s still murder, Max. And I think the cats who commit murder should be thrown in jail for the rest of their lives. And the police should start to investigate their crimes.”

“Frankly I think humans have enough to deal with policing their own species. You can’t expect them to start policing other species as well. Next thing you’ll want them to start protecting flies from being eaten by spiders. Or worms from being eaten by birds.”

“We live in a terrible world, Max,” said Dooley, shaking his head sadly.

“Look, nature isn’t always fair, Dooley,” I said. “But you have to understand one thing: no bug or animal will ever kill another bug or animal just for the thrill of the kill. They do what they do to survive. In fact I think it’s fair to say that the only species that kills simply for funand sport is the human species.”

He was silent after that, then finally admitted,“You may have a point, Max.”

“Of course I have a point, Dooley.”

“I guess it’s a tough world out there, isn’t it?”

“Only if you forget to look on the bright side,” I reminded him.

“And what is the bright side?”

“That most humans are good and decent people, and that only the smallest minority ever resorts to things that are to be frowned upon.”

“Just like most cats are good and decent pets?”

“Exactly,” I said. Just then, we caught sight of Harriet and Brutus, with the former loudly explaining to Gran why she needed to have her name in large font above her new comic strip, and why she thought that me and Dooley should not feature in the comic at all, since we’d only distract the reading public from the main feature, which was her.

Okay, so even good and decent cats sometimes get lured over to the dark side by such things as an outsized ego and the attraction of fame and glory, but I had a feeling that even here nature would find it prudent to strike a balance, and make sure Harriet’s baser instincts wouldn’t be rewarded but in fact discouraged.