“Look,” said a woman with blue cotton candy hair, “there’s a cat that looks just like my Boopsie.”

Felony looked up in alarm. “Boopsie?” she said. “No way do I look like a Boopsie!”

“Boopsie! Here, Boopsie!” the woman called out after us. We raced madly down a hallway and through a door into the room with the open window. Hamlet had the lead; so it was that we all collided with him when he came to a sudden, jarring stop.

“Archie!” he woofed.

Sitting at a table in a tattered bathrobe and faded pajamas sat an old man with a face full of whiskers and eyes full of tears. “Hamlet,” he said, opening his arms.

Hamlet limped to him and laid his head on the old man’s knee.

Just then, Helen and George charged into the room.

“Good heavens!” cried Helen when she saw us. “Where did all these animals come from?”

“Out!” George yelled, waving his hands in the air. “Go home! All of you, go home!”

The woman with cotton-candy hair appeared in the doorway behind them, making clucking noises with her tongue. “Here, Boopsie!” she said. She picked up a piece of bacon from one of the tables and held it out in front of her. “Nice kitty, here, girl.”

Felony looked at the rest of us and licked her lips. “Hey, if she wants to call me Boopsie, who’m I to stand in the way of makin’ a little ol’ blue-haired lady happy?”

Or in the way of a free breakfast, for that matter.

“Oh, no, we can’t have that,” said Helen as Felony (also known as Boopsie) purringly accepted the bacon from the old woman’s hand.

The old woman looked up and said, “But they’re hungry, Helen.” With that, one plate after another found its way from table to floor and we were all treated to a delicious breakfast garnished with pats on the head—even The Weasel, whom one woman said reminded her of the collar of her favorite coat.

Helen and George tried to stop it, but it was no use. The old people were so happy to have us there that the two officials finally threw up their hands and went off to do something official elsewhere.

Hamlet was the only one of us who didn’t eat. He was too busy just being with Archie.

“I’m sorry, old boy,” Archie said. “I just couldn’t bear to tell you the truth. All our travels together, all the thick and thin times, how could I tell you I was leaving you behind for good? Danged nursing home, I don’t see what they’ve got against animals anyway. But this is the only place I could afford, boy. I know, I know, I always said I was rich. And I was. Rich in spirit. But let me confide in you a little secret, dear friend. I’ve lost my spirit. I’m poor in every sense of the word now, Hamlet. I’m alone. And that’s the worst kind of poor there is.”

Hamlet cocked his head and whimpered. Archie seemed to know right away what he was saying. “Willie? Oh, Willie and I haven’t had a good talk in months. Oh, sure, sure, he’s here, but we just don’t have anything to talk about anymore.”

Hamlet whimpered again.

“You want me to get him?” Archie asked.

Hamlet woofed.

“Really? You want to see Willie?”

The Great Dane panted and woofed some more as Archie’s face seemed to grow younger by the minute.

The residents of the nursing home were getting quite a kick out of this exchange.

“Who’s this Willie you’re talking about?” asked the blue-haired lady, holding—much to my surprise—a purring Felony on her lap. “I don’t remember knowing anybody here named Willie.”

“You’re not talking about William, are you, Archie?” asked a man with thick glasses and an even thicker mustache.

Archie shook his head. “William is a big fellow,” he said. “No, no, I’m talking about Little Willie. Why, it’s no wonder you’ve missed him. He’s only three feet tall.”

I looked at Chester, who had sidled up next to me. “I think,” he commented, “we may have reunited Hamlet with a nut case.”

But it was a different kind of case that entered the room moments later—a large suitcase on wheels that was covered with stickers and pulled with considerable effort by Archibald Fenster, the great Shakespearean actor.

Helen and George came in a step behind him to inform us that “someone” was on the way to “see to” the animals. I love hearing things like that. It makes meals sit so easily on the tummy. But they didn’t rush out of the room. This time they stayed and, like the rest of us, gathered around Archie to find out what a traveling case on wheels had to do with the mysterious Willie.

“Let . . . me . . . out . . . of. . . here!” a tiny, tinny voice demanded.

It sounded enough like Rosebud to make every hair on my body stand up and salute.

“Are you going to behave?” Archie said to the box.

“Yeah, yeah,” said the voice. “Come on, Arch, I been in here for three months. Give me some air, huh?”

Archie looked around the room. Seeing that everyone’s eyes were glued to the case on the floor, he bent down and undid the locks.

“Well, it’s about time! The voice grew louder as the top opened.

Archie reached in and lifted out . . .

“A dummy!” said Helen, peering over Archie’s shoulder. “Why, Archie, you never told us you were a ventriloquist.”

“What’s a ventriloquist?” Howie asked Chester.

“Ventriloquists,” Chester explained, “are people who talk without moving their lips and make it seem as if someone else is doing the talking.”

“Like Hamlet and Rosebud,” I added.