Immediately, I raced after him.

Because, well, who doesn’t enjoy a good squirrel chase?

The only problem was, I couldn’t run nearly as quickly as the dog because, well, he is a dog; plus, I have this nasty limp, a holdover from my service in the Cat Wars.

So while the dog bounded down the long flight of stairs, descending from the living area of my home to the door leading out to the street, I quickly limped behind. When I got to the bottom, I saw the dog had left the door hanging ajar behind him, meaning I could just follow through that rather than having to leap through the rectangular door flap which is my usual method of exit and entry. Some humans call such a thing a pet door, but I am no one’s pet.

Once outside and down the path, I looked left and right to see which way the dog had gone. He had run left, of course. The dog was almost always going left, just like he’d taken the left bedroom in my home, although now was not the time to dwell on dwelling arrangements.

The dog was all the way at the end of the street, one paw acting as a visor over his eyes as he scanned the horizon.

At last, with a rare and brief look of dejected failure, he trotted back to me.

“Did you see where he went, Catson?” he said, back to his usual urgency.

“Who?” I asked. “The squirrel?”

“Of course, the squirrel!” he said with some exasperation.

“I’m afraid not,” I admitted. “By the time I got outside, he was nowhere in sight. But look, there’s another squirrel over there. And there. And there. There are plenty of squirrels everywhere this time of year.”

It was late summer and the squirrels were all busily gathering food to store for winter. One could almost pity the squirrels their need to do that. Me, whenever I need to stock up, I just send Mr. Javier to the corner store for more tins of tuna and packages of pasta.

I would have started chasing some of the squirrels but, frankly, I was a bit tired after my run down the stairs. Speaking of which, was it time for another nap yet?

“I don’t want just some random squirrel!” he said, more exasperated yet.

“You don’t?” Now I was puzzled.

“What do you think we’ve been doing here, Catson?” he said with his I’m About To Teach You A Lesson voice. You can imagine how much I enjoyed that voice.

“Well,” I said speaking slowly so as to irritate him. If he was going to talk to me like I was an idiot, I might as well act like one. “You got a crazed look in your eyes, yelled ‘Squirrel!’ and then went racing out of the house.”

“And what did that further lead you to deduce?”

“Naturally, I first thought you were a lunatic. But I realized almost immediately that you said squirrel. I get distracted by squirrels too. This thought, in turn, led to: ‘Now this makes sense’ and ‘I love chasing squirrels too – finally, something we share in common! Their beady eyes; there’s just something about them, makes me want to chase them all the time.’ And there you have it.”

“Not quite. While I can be as easily distracted as the next chap by a squirrel flashing by, I – unlike you – do not chase willy-nilly after random squirrels.”

“Willy-nilly? There’s no need to be insulting about – ”

“That, my dear Catson, was no random squirrel.”

“Oh no?” I said mildly. “Then who was it?”

“It was the villain.”

“As far as I’m concerned, all squirrels are villains. But, somehow, I’m guessing we don’t mean the same thing.”

“I did not say the squirrel was a villain. I said the squirrel was the villain.”

“Seems a bit specific, not to mention a heavy charge,” I said, unable to hide the skepticism in my voice. “So, you know that squirrel personally, do you?”

Really, how can anyone tell one squirrel from another? They all look alike.

“Oh, yes,” he said with vehemence. “I have known that squirrel for some years now, have been deviled by him regularly in fact.”

“Really?” I said, thinking he must be joking. “And who is he?”

“Why, the squirrel is a criminal mastermind, of course.”

“Oh, of course,” I scoffed.

“He goes by the name of Professor Moriarty.”