While the inspectors shouted their outrage (Strange: “How dare he take off without consulting us!”) and grumbled their displeasure (No One Very Important: “It’s our case too, you know”), I spent several minutes considering whether to take a nap.

I was so tired, but I wasn’t accustomed to napping with a human in the house, never mind two humans. What if, while I was sleeping, they tried to pet me? Or, worse, pick me up and place me in their laps?

I shuddered at the thought.

Tired, hungry. Hungry, tired. I’d never been so much of either in my life, let alone both at the same time, not even during the Cat Wars.

I considered excusing myself and disappearing into one of the bedrooms, which I almost never use, the cushion in front of the bay window being so much nicer for napping. Surely, behind closed doors, I could rest for a bit, safe from the threat of being petted or picked up? And, you know, maybe I’d find a little something to snack on back there?

I was about to do just that, when a lot of activity happened all at once.

First, Mr. Javier came back with his beloved takeout.

“I got Lebanese, Boss!” the turtle announced. “This time, I got Lebanese!”

He began excitedly taking containers out of his big bag.

“I got the baba ghanouj,” he said, “and the kibbeh, and the hummus, and the tabbouleh, and for you, the shish taouk, which are like grilled chicken skewers—”

Except for the part about the chicken, I had no idea what he was talking about. It was all Lebanese to me. But it all smelled so heavenly, and I was so hungry, I didn’t care what I was eating.

I was just reaching for a carton when the doorbell rang.

“Should I get that, Boss?” Mr. Javier asked, looking torn. I could well understand why he should feel that way. After all, he must be hungry too.

“Just keep dishing up the food, Mr. Javier.” I waved a fork at him. “I can’t imagine who that could be at this hour. And look around you: Anyone who should be inside is already right here.”

Then it hit me:

The dog still wasn’t back.

And then it came to me, the last thing the dog had said before he headed out the door was: “I need to see a dog about a man.”

What had he meant? Where had he gone and where was he now?

“If no one else is going to get that, I suppose I’ll have to,” the dog called from somewhere in the house.

Wait a second. When had the dog returned? And why was the dog roaming freely around the rest of my house?

Before I could yell or object, he bounded through the room and down the stairs to open the door, returning accompanied by …

“Puppies?” I cried. “What are all these puppies doing in my house?”