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hobby.”
    Linda nodded. “Most depressed dog I ever saw,” she said. “Oh, if the kids only knew the kind of place they were leaving us.”
    â€œThis is the longest the kids have been away from us” Bob explained. “They send us post-cards, but we can’t help but worry.”
    â€œHere, let me show you,” Linda said. She pulled a card out from behind the biscuit bag. On the front was a picture of a long stretch of sandy beach. On the back were these words:
    Dear Bob and Linda, Never saw water so blue! Hope you’re having fun at Chateau Bow-Wow. We miss you like crazy but need the space. Love, T&T.
    â€œTom and Tracy,” Linda explained. “The kids.”
    Chester leaned over and whispered in my ear, “If these two are the normal ones, I can’t wait to meet the others.”
    Linda gasped. “Don’t look now,” she said, staring at something behind us. Naturally, we all turned to look. Two—what you might call if you were in a forgiving mood—cats were heading in our direction. One, a skinny, striped gray with matted fur, strutted sosmoothly her shoulders must have been on ball bearings. Her piercing eyes were stuck on us like hungry fleas. Her blank-faced companion was fat, long-haired, and tabby. As she waddled toward us, I noticed she was chewing something, and I couldn’t help wondering how she kept from getting whatever it was stuck in all the long hairs around her mouth.
    â€œWell, well,” the gray one snarled as she approached, “and whom have we here, hmm?”
    The tabby circled Chester, giving him the once-over. “Nice whiskers,” she said in a husky voice when she came full circle. For the first time since I’d known him, Chester appeared to be at a loss for words. The tabby stared him in the eyes and asked, “Did you bring any rations?”
    Chester took his time before answering. “Are you talking to me?”
    The scrawny gray cat snorted. “Well, she ain’t talkin’ to yer mother,” she cracked, breaking into a snorty sort of laugh. The fat one chortled huskily.



Chester, Howie, and I exchanged nervous glances. Bob and Linda just shook their heads sadly, no doubt wondering what “the kids” would think if only they knew.
    The gray cat stopped laughing abruptly. “I’m Felony,” she said, spitting out the words. It was less an introduction than a threat. “And this here’s my sister, Miss Demeanor.”
    â€œYou’re sisters?” Howie said.
    â€œSisters in crime,” Felony snapped. “Cat burglars. Wanta make somethin’ of it?”
    There was a long silence during which no one chose to make somethin’ of it.
    â€œWhat were you saying about rations?” Chester asked at last.
    Felony sneered. “I’ll let you in on a little secret,” she said, glancing around. “The glop they serve here is enough to send yer taste buds out on strike.”
    â€œThey say it’s good fer ya,” Miss Demeanor chimed in, “but I say so’s a flea collar, doesn’t mean I want to eat it.”
    â€œSo we was just wondering if you broughtanything widja,” Felony went on. “Somethin’ besides mosquito-flavored crackers.” She snapped a look at Bob and Linda.
    â€œThat’s ‘mesquite,’” Bob said softly.
    â€œWhatever,” said Felony, turning back to Chester.
    â€œI’m afraid not,” Chester said.
    â€œPity,” said Felony. “You’re gonna wish you had.”
    â€œThe food’s that bad?” I asked.
    â€œLike nothin’ you ever ate,” Felony replied.
    â€œLike nothin’ you deserve,” said Miss Demeanor.
    â€œGee,” said Howie, “it sounds like gruel and unusual punishment.”
    Miss Demeanor nodded her head. “However, once Felony and I have found the—,” she started to say, but the other cat gave her a