Ник Сайнт: Purrfect Secret

Tex had the decency to blush. “Now, Vesta, you know that’s nonsense talk.”

“Filthy gossip, that’s what it is,” said Scarlett. “And mean-spirited, too.”

“I’ll give you mean-spirited,” Vesta growled, and tried to poke her nemesis in the fake nose. She never got close, for Tex was still acting like a buffer between the two women.

“Now, now, Vesta,” he was saying in that horribly soothing doctor’s voice of his. “Calm down.”

“Oh, all right,” said Vesta, shaking off Tex’s hand. “I’m going already. But I’m warning you,” she spat in Scarlett’s direction. “This is not the end.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t expect it to be, Vesta, dear,” said Scarlett sweetly.

And as Vesta stalked huffily to the door, Scarlett even blew her a kiss. In return, Vesta blew her nemesis a raspberry, made a very rude gesture with one of the fingers of her right hand, and slammed the door shut behind her.

No, this was not the end. In fact this had only just begun.

Chapter 11

Dooley sat on the wooden garden bench, feeling miserable. He didn’t understand why Max had suddenly decided to give him the cold shoulder. In spite of Gran’s assurances that Dooley was loved, he was starting to think that Milo was right after all, and that Max didn’t give a hoot about him. Or anyone else, for that matter.

And just when he was thinking of maybe sneaking after Max and asking his old friend what was going on, Milo jumped up onto the bench and made himself comfortable.

“Hey, buddy,” said Milo. “You don’t look so good. Are you sure you’re not sick?”

Dooley blinked a few times. “Sick? Do you think I’m sick?”

Milo held up his paws. “Hey, I’m not a doctor, buddy, but you look kinda pale. Max just told me the same thing, so I figured I’d do the square thing by you and check it out.”

“Max told you I looked sick?”

“Sure. Then again, he said you were born sickly. Been weak and prone to disease ever since Grandma brought you home from the pound.”

Dooley’s heart was beating fast now, a sickening sense of doom extending its icy tentacles into his soul. “The pound? Grandma brought me home from the pound? But she always said she got me from a very dear friend of hers. From a litter of eight little Dooleys.”

“A little white lie, Dooley. Humans are big on little white lies. They think it’s for the best, but they often end up doing a lot of damage. Anyhoo, I think maybe it’s time for you to head on down to the vet, don’t you think? You’re coming down with something. And it wouldn’t surprise me if isn’t some parasite wreaking havoc inside your digestion system.”

“A parasite!”

“Yup. Worms, probably.”

“Worms! Inside me?!”

“Sure. You’ve got your tapeworm, your hookworm, your whipworm, your roundworm… Have you lost weight recently?”

“I-I think so,” said Dooley, touching his shrinking belly. “Haven’t been hungry.”

“That’s the worms for you,” said Milo with a knowing nod. “Make you lose your appetite. You’re probably full of them, crawling all over your insides. What about vomiting? Diarrhea? Coughing? Feeling bloated?”

Dooley felt sick, and suddenly retched. “How-how big are these worms, Milo?”

“Oh, the smallest ones are at least five inches long. The big ones?” He gave Dooley a worried look that spoke volumes.

Dooley could imagine dozens of worms moving around inside his gut, and when he glanced down at his belly, he could almost see them, wriggling underneath the skin! “G-get them out of there!” he cried. “Milo! Help me—you need to help me get rid out of them!”

“I want to help you,” said Milo earnestly. “But Max told me not to.”

“Max told you what?!”

“Yeah, he said you’re such a crybaby it’s better just to leave you to your own devices. He said he’s tried to help you out before, but you end up making life a living hell for him, so nowadays he simply prefers not to tell you anything at all, and hope you won’t notice that you’re sick and…” He grimaced. “Maybe I should just follow Max’s advice.”

“Tell me!”

“I don’t know, Dooley. Max said I shouldn’t bother. Then again, I’m of the opinion that a true friend always tells his friends the truth—even when it’s just… terrible, horrible.”

Dooley stared at this newfound friend of his. “Tell me the truth, Milo. Just… tell me.” Milo placed a paw on Dooley’s shoulder and looked him in the eyes. One of those earnest, heartfelt looks. The kind of look a real friend gave his best friend and compatriot. And Dooley remembered the cold look Max had given him and he knew. Max was not his friend. No matter what Gran said. Max was simply a liar. “Just… tell me?” he whispered.

“You’re dying, Dooley. This is the end of the line for you, pal. I give you two more days—three, tops—and then it’s bye-bye, baby for Dooley.”

“Oh, no!” he cried. “But-but is there nothing I can do? Milo—please!”

Milo looked doubtful, like a doctor after giving his patient the final verdict. Then he softened. “You need to get rid of those worms, buddy. Either you live, or those worms do. Only one of you can live. Just like Harry Potter and his old chum Voldemort, remember?”

“How-how do I get rid of these Voldemort worms?”

“There’s only one way.” He squeezed Dooley’s shoulder. “Cat Snax.”

“Max’s favorite snack.”

“That’s right. Cat Snax contain a secret ingredient that worms hate. The more Cat Snax you eat, the greater your chance of survival.”

“But Max hates it when we snack on his Cat Snax.”

“Come on, Dooley. This is do or die, buddy. If you don’t get rid of those worms you’ll be dead inside the day.”

“The day! You just said two or three days!”

“I didn’t want to upset you.”

“Cat Snax,” said Dooley thoughtfully.

“Cat Snax. And you need to scoot.”

“Scoot?”

“Wipe your tush across the floor.”

“Why?”

Milo sighed. “Isn’t it obvious? When those Cat Snax kick in, those worms are flushed out of your system. But they hang on for dear life, digging their little pincers into your butt. So you need to boogie-woogie those suckers. Crush them and turn them into poop smears.”

“Poop smears,” repeated Dooley, thinking that this sounded like music to his ears.

“Yeah, so don’t you go poopy doopy in the litter box now, you hear? Those blood-sucking parasites love litter. They snack on that litter. And then they jump right back onto your fur, burrow their way through your skin, and you’re right back where you started.”

“You mean I have to… poop on the floor?”

“The floor, the rug, the bed, heck, you can poop on the kitchen table for all I care. As long as you scoot.”

“Scoot.”

“Scoot like your life depends on it, Dooley.” He nodded seriously. “Cause it does.”

Chapter 12

I’d been wandering along aimlessly, and finally reached downtown and I still had no idea where I was going. The idea that Dooley had been saying those horrible things about me, and so had Brutus and Harriet, had cut me to the quick. How could they even think that stuff? Me, in love with Harriet. Or possessive of Odelia. Or the dumbest and ugliest cat in Hampton Cove. So ugly, in fact, that no female cat had ever shown an interest in me.

A sneaking suspicion now entered my mind. The suspicion that Brutus and Harriet were right. That I really was that dumb and that ugly. I mean, why else was I still single while everyone else was involved with someone? The thought had never occurred to me before.

And as I finally reached my destination, Wilbur Vickery’s General Store on Main Street, I looked around for Kingman, Wilbur’s plump piebald. To my elation he was right where he always was: holding forth to three female cats who hung on his every word.