— 19 —
“SO, YEAH. RACCOONS,” BOB SAID when he came back upstairs. “I didn’t catch them, but that’s definitely what they were. It looks like they got into pretty much everything.”
“So. Raccoons.” Mrs. Food turned to look at Mrs. Hates Dogs on Six. “Did you hear that, Harriet? Raccoons were in the storage area.”
Mrs. Hates Dogs on Six shifted uncomfortably and smoothed her skirt. “Well, what do you know.” She looked up at Bob. “So they were responsible for the damage?”
“Yup,” Bob said.
“This whole time?”
“Looks like it.” Bob crossed his arms.
“Hmm. Well, well.” Mrs. Hates Dogs on Six looked at Madison and took a deep breath. “Then I apologize.”
Madison’s eyebrows shot up. “Wow. Okay, um. Thanks.”
Mrs. Hates Dogs on Six sniffed. “I said it, no need to go on about it. Gloating is never attractive.” She looked down at Butterbean. “And control your dog. I don’t want to have to tell you again.”
She nodded briefly at Bob and Mrs. Food and then marched to the door, her back stiff.
“Well, I guess that’s the best you’re going to get,” Bob said after the door had shut behind her.
“I think we’ll take that as a win,” Mrs. Food said, patting Madison on the back.
“Good. And for the record, I’m sorry too.” Bob rubbed his hand over his face. “I wasn’t going to let her have you arrested.”
“Wait, WHAT?” Madison’s jaw dropped as she looked from Bob to Mrs. Food. “She wanted to have me ARRESTED?”
“Sooo,” Bob said, a panicked expression on his face. “If you’ll excuse me, I have some raccoons to deal with.” He turned and bolted for the door.
Madison turned to Mrs. Food, her arms crossed. “ARRESTED?”
“You mean you couldn’t hear ANY of it?” The white cat’s face fell. “But the music really made the production. They were terrific. Reginald’s song…” The white cat put her paw over her heart. “It got you right here.”
After Bob had left, Mrs. Food had taken Madison out for ice cream to celebrate her vindication (and to help her get over the whole “arrested” thing). Which meant that Mrs. Food’s apartment was the perfect location for the white cat’s cast party. Oscar tried to protest (no one had told him about a cast party), but it’s hard to say no when hordes of happy raccoons and rats are streaming into your apartment.
“It looked amazing, even without sound. It did the trick. It doesn’t matter that we couldn’t hear it,” Oscar said, watching carefully to make sure no one knocked anything over.
“But the harmonies! And that ukulele solo!” The white cat shook her head despairingly. “Well, that’s it. We’ll have to do it again.”
“We’re not doing it again,” Reginald said, laughing and clapping the white cat on the back. “But I have to admit, that was fun. Maybe I should’ve had a singing career.”
“Oh, you still could,” the white cat said with a gleam in her eye. “Wallace, do you have that phone?”
Wallace nodded, dragging the camera phone behind him. He dropped it at the white cat’s feet and then leaned over with his hands on his knees, breathing heavily. “I don’t want to be a cameraman anymore.”
“That’s fine,” the white cat said, swiping at the screen. “You can add social media manager to your résumé too. Because that video you took is taking off.” She smirked at them. “I posted it online.”
“What?” Wallace peered down at the screen.
“What did you do?” Marco and Polo squeezed in to get a closer look. “Is that the RACCOONS?” Polo squealed. “They’re so much clearer than on the TV!”
“But it’s just the part where they eat the treats,” Marco said. “Why’d you tape that?”
“Once the bigwigs at Beautiful Buffet Cat Food see that, I’m betting these raccoons will be the new face of those caviar cat treats,” the white cat said smugly.
“But that’s your job!” Butterbean said. “Aren’t you the face of Beautiful Buffet Cat Food?”
“The cat food, sure,” the white cat said. “I’m practically an institution. NOBODY is going to replace me there. But the treats campaign?” She rolled her eyes. “They can have it. Those raccoons really sell it. I mean, look at them—they’re adorable!”
She took Reginald aside. “Seriously, this thing is going to be huge. I could make you all big stars.”
Reginald laughed. “Thanks, but no thanks. I don’t think any of us want that, right, guys?”
Tulip shook her head. “I just want to keep the tube top.”
“Besides, there’s a high rise three blocks over that looks promising,” Reginald said. “It has a sushi restaurant on the first level.”
“Sushi?” Chad slithered in from the kitchen, where he’d been helping himself to some tuna. “What’s this I hear about sushi?”
“Don’t even think about it, Chad,” Oscar said. “You’d never make it that far on pavement. Think about your tentacles.”
Chad flexed his tentacles defensively. “I do have sensitive skin.”
“Well, if you ever change your mind, let me know,” the white cat said, pouting. “You could be the most famous raccoons in town.”
“I think they already are,” Butterbean said.
“Oh, hey, Doc, that reminds me,” Reginald said quietly. “I’ve got something here for that friend of yours. Hope it’ll make things right between us. I washed it myself.”
Butterbean examined Reginald’s present. “Ooooh, that’ll be perfect,” she said. “Thank you.” She beamed up at him. “You were always my favorite patient.”
“He was always your ONLY patient,” Walt said in a low voice.
“Still,” Butterbean said. “My favorite.”
Reginald’s nose turned pink. Then he cleared his throat. “Well, as fun as this is, we’d better get out of here before Animal Control shows up. Say your goodbyes, everyone.”
Tulip the raccoon lunged forward and grabbed Oscar in a strangle hug, and then went for Walt. Apparently the raccoons were big huggers. No one escaped unhugged.
“Yeah, we’d better get our stuff together and get back out to the loading dock too,” Dunkin said. “Ken’s got a shuffleboard championship to win.”
Ken nodded solemnly.
“If you guys ever need anything, well, we’re right outside. Right, Wallace?” He punched Wallace lightly on the arm.
“Right,” Wallace said, rubbing his arm as he waved goodbye.
The apartment felt especially quiet after the raccoons and rats left. “Well, I guess that’s it, then,” Oscar said quietly.
“Not quite,” Butterbean said. “There’s still one thing that I have to do.”
“Butterbean, nooo, not again!” Madison squealed as Butterbean dragged her off the elevator and down the hall of the second floor.
Butterbean jumped up and pawed at the door until Madison caught up.
“Fine!” Madison grumbled. “I can’t believe you!” she said, knocking at the door. It wasn’t like she had much choice, not since Butterbean had already body-slammed it.
Mrs. Biscuit opened the door a crack and peeked out. “Oh, it’s you!” she said, opening the door wider. “Come on in. I know he’ll be glad to see you.”
“Well, it’s ABOUT TIME,” Biscuit barked, rushing over to Butterbean. “I’ve been DYING over here. Do you know how hard it is not to bark? I had to stuff my face into the couch cushions at least ten times a day! So what’s the latest? Did you rip those raccoons to shreds?”
“Um, not quite,” Butterbean said. “They were actually very nice. I don’t know if you caught their performance earlier on the building surveillance channel?”
“I don’t watch TV,” Biscuit said snippily.
“Well, anyway, they were very good. And they’re relocating, so you shouldn’t have any more problems.” She eyed Biscuit’s bangs. “With the barking, that is.”
“Did you tell them I’d pulverize them? Did they quake in their boots when they found out who they were up against? Is that why they ran away? Because I could TAKE THEM APART.” Biscuit curled his lip in the most threatening way. (Unfortunately, it just looked like he had something caught in his teeth.)
“No, but the raccoon leader did send you a gift.” Butterbean shook vigorously, and Reginald’s gift fell down from where Polo had tucked it underneath her collar. “His name is Reginald.”
Biscuit nosed it carefully. Then he looked up, his lip quivering. “Are those? I mean…”
“They’re barrettes,” Butterbean said. “He thought they’d be a good look.”
Biscuit picked up the barrettes and rushed over to Mrs. Biscuit, flinging them violently into her lap.
“Oh, did you bring a gift?” She looked up at Madison quizzically.
Madison looked over at Butterbean, who wagged her tail.
“I mean… yes?” Madison said. Sometimes it was better just to go with it.
“These are perfect!” Mrs. Biscuit held the barrettes up to look at them. “They’re beautiful!” She leaned forward and whispered to Madison so Biscuit couldn’t hear. “I don’t know if you can tell, but he had a little mishap at the groomer. I think it’s been getting him down. These will do just the trick.”
“Oh really? I hadn’t noticed,” Madison lied. She had totally noticed.
Mrs. Biscuit bent down and snapped the barrettes into place, transforming Biscuit’s heavy bangs into two jaunty ponytails.
“Perfect!” Mrs. Biscuit said, clapping her hands together.
Biscuit raced over to the window and peered at his reflection. When he turned back, his eyes were moist. “Butterbean, that raccoon…” He sniffed loudly. “I can’t even…” He swallowed hard. “You guys are the best.”
