Purrfect Hero (The Mysteries of Max #111)

Chapter 1

Dooley had been lying on the lawn, closely studying a tiny ant that had been crawling up a blade of grass for the past half hour.

He wondered what took the ant so long. And since he didn’t know the answer, and didn’t want to ask Harriet to Google it, or ask ChatGPT, he turned to the one cat he knew could always be relied upon to give him all the answers he needed: his best friend Max, that feline encyclopedia.

“Max?”

“Hmm?” said the large blorange cat who had been lying on his back, his paws dangling in the air, his eyes firmly closed, with a little bit of drool escaping the corner of his mouth.

“Why is it that some ants are so quick and others so slow? This ant has been climbing this one blade of grass for the past half hour, and he’s still getting nowhere. Do you think he’s got some kind of physical defect that is preventing him from reaching the top?”

“That might very well be it,” Max murmured, then licked up the little bit of drool and turned over to his side, facing away from Dooley.

Undeterred, Dooley continued, “Or maybe he’s a meditative ant. You know, like a Buddhist ant? Maybe he’s simply contemplating the state of the world and the meaning of life while he’s taking one tiny step after another.”

“Hmm,” said Max, not really picking up his side of the conversation.

“I think I might ask him,” said Dooley, figuring that this quandary was so deep and so intriguing that he simply had to know. “Ant?” he said, therefore, addressing the tiny creature directly. “Why are you so slow?”

The ant didn’t respond at first, causing Dooley to conclude that he was a Buddhist and didn’t want to be disturbed whilst in the middle of some great and life-changing epiphany.

But then suddenly the ant spoke. “What are you talking about, cat? I’m going as fast as I can possibly go. Right now, I’m going at top speed!”

And that’s when Dooley knew: this ant was simply operating in a different dimension!

He had heard a lot about dimensions in the past, but he had never actually seen evidence up close and personal that they existed.

“My God,” he said, therefore. “You are in a different dimension, aren’t you? A dimension that looks slow and different to my eyes, but not to yours. In your world everything is moving really, really fast, while in my world, it’s going super slow!”

“I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about, cat,” said the ant, as it proceeded to move another millimeter further toward the top of the blade of grass. “All I know is that I could really use a helping hand right now. Could you do the honors, please?”

“Oh, sure,” said Dooley, much honored by this request. “What do you need me to do?”

“Can you pick up that blade of grass and shove it over there, please? My queen will be ever so grateful.”

“Your queen?” he asked, looking around for a sign of this mythical creature. “Your queen will be grateful?”

“Oh, absolutely. My queen might even give you a medal,” said the tiny ant.

“Oh, I would love that,” said Dooley. He knew that queens gave medals all the time, but only to people who really, really deserved them.

They gave OBEs and suchlike, and he wouldn’t mind getting one of those.

And so he gave the piece of grass a tap with his paw so that it moved an inch to the right. “Like this?” he asked.

“That is exactly what I needed,” said the ant. “Thanks so much, cat.”

“Dooley,” said Dooley. “And what’s your name, ant?” he asked when the tiny insect wasn’t as forthcoming with its name as Dooley had been.

“Samson,” said the ant, and in a heroic demonstration of his powers, he pushed his own piece of grass so it fell neatly next to the one that Dooley had moved into position. “There,” he said as he surveyed his handiwork. “That should do the trick.”

“What are you building, Samson?” asked Dooley. “Is this a home for your queen, perhaps?”

“More like a second home. The queen is stepping out, you see.”

“She is stepping out? Out of what? Her palace?”

The ant smiled indulgently. “The queen hasn’t been feeling all that well lately, and we’d like her to get some fresh air.

You know, take a little break from life in the colony and spend some time outdoors.

So we need to prepare the area and make sure she feels as welcome and comfortable as antly possible.

And you, my friend,” he added, pointing one of his feet at Dooley, “are going to help me do just that.”

Honored though he was to have been picked by the ant to help him in welcoming his queen and making sure she felt at ease in the outside world, Dooley wasn’t sure he was the right cat for the job.

Even though, of course, he knew a lot about the insect kingdom, he was a cat, not a bug.

But since he still wanted that OBE—or whatever medal the queen deigned to bestow upon him—he said, “Sure thing, Samson. What do you want me to do?”

“I want you to provide bodyguard services for the queen’s visit. In other words: make sure that nothing, and I do mean nothing, can disturb her visit to this earthly realm.”

Dooley swallowed a lump of unease. “You want me to be the queen’s bodyguard?”

“That is exactly what I want you to be. You and that fat friend of yours.”

“Max isn’t fat,” said Dooley automatically. “He is big-boned. It runs in his family.”

“Whatever the case,” said Samson, “he will make the perfect bodyguard for our queen. I can tell simply from looking at him. So will you ask him?”

“Of course,” said Dooley, as he directed a nervous look at Max’s back. “Absolutely. I’ll ask him right now, shall I?”

“Do it,” Samson advised. “Do it now.”

At this, the tiny ant proceeded to climb the next blade of grass, clearly intent on providing or possibly scouting the perfect setup for his queen to pay them a visit.

As Max continued to fully ignore both Dooley and the tiny ant, for a moment Dooley was in a quandary.

But then he knew that Max would be as honored as he was that they were about to be bestowed this singular honor in the form of an OBE, and so he stirred his friend to life by giving him a prod in the lower back.

“Hmm?” said Max sleepily. “What now?”

“We’ve been asked to become bodyguards, Max,” he explained, not hiding his excitement. “You and me. To the queen.”

Max turned lazily so he could face Dooley. “What queen? What are you talking about?”

“The ant queen. She’s stepping out of her palace to pay this earthly realm a visit and get some much-needed fresh air. And we’ve been asked to provide bodyguard duties for her, and to make sure that she feels welcome and safe here.”

Max stared at him. “Bodyguards. To an ant.”

“An ant queen,” Dooley stressed. “And you know what, Max?”

“No, what?”

“If we do a good job, Samson has promised me we will receive an OBE! Isn’t that great?”

Max stared at him for a moment, then yawned cavernously.

“I’m going back to sleep,” he announced.

“Next time wake me up when something truly important happens. Like a fire or an earthquake. Though on second thought, only wake me up in case of a fire, since an earthquake would wake me up by the sheer force of the earth quaking.”

As his friend turned over again to face away from him, Dooley realized that he would need all his powers of persuasion to make sure Max was on board with this scheme of his.

For he wanted that OBE. In fact, at that moment, there was nothing he wanted more than to be awarded that particular medal.

Movie stars had received one, as had athletes, academics, comedians, and writers.

And now he felt it was his turn. After everything he had done for the town of Hampton Cove, surely he deserved some tangible token of appreciation.

And an OBE was exactly that: proof that someone, somewhere, thought he was doing a good job.