Chapter 2
Iopened one lazy eye and discovered that the house was on fire.
Needless to say, I was instantly wide awake, as one tends to be when disaster is about to befall oneself and one’s family.
Upon closer inspection, however, I realized that it wasn’t the entire house that was burning, but only one small—though extremely important—part of it: the pet flap.
It was our gateway to the outside world and, more importantly, our means of gaining access to the two most vital areas of our home: our food bowls and our litter boxes.
“Fire!” I shouted, therefore. “The house is on fire! Someone call the fire department!”
Of course, my pleas fell on deaf ears, since there wasn’t a single person available to call said emergency services and vouchsafe our pet flap from imminent destruction.
Even Dooley seemed to have taken leave from the backyard, and so had Brutus and Harriet, our other two housemates and friends.
And since there isn’t a whole lot a cat can do when fire is about to engulf the homestead, I merely stared in horror and shock and a strange sense of fascination as the flames licked at the kitchen door, climbing up from that beloved pet flap and threatening to demolish the entire door in their quest to wreak as much havoc as possible.
“What is going on here?” suddenly a voice sounded at my rear. When I looked up, much to my elation, I saw that it was none other than Gran.
“Oh, Gran!” I said. “The pet flap is on fire!”
“Yeah, I can see that,” said the old lady. “But why isn’t anyone putting out the fire? Why aren’t you putting out the fire, Max?”
“Well, since I’m a cat, and very hairy, putting out a fire is a hairy proposition, so…”
But of course Gran, true to her reputation, didn’t waste time arguing her case, but instead hurried over to the bucket that stood backed up against the side of the house, filled it with water from the garden tap, and used it to douse the door and put out the flames.
“Oh, Gran, you saved our lives!” I cried, overcome by a sense of intense relief.
“I wonder how this happened,” she grunted unhappily. “Did you see who started the fire, Max?”
I shook my head, a touch of embarrassment making me blush beneath my fur. “I was asleep,” I admitted. “And therefore I’m afraid I didn’t see a thing.”
“Good thing that you saw it when you did,” said Gran as she inspected the door. “And good thing I was home and heard your screams.”
“You heard my screams?”
“Anyone with ears within a five-mile radius has heard your screams,” she said as she carefully pushed open the door.
“Looks like you caught it just in time,” she said.
“Not much damage to speak of.” She then crouched down and inspected something that looked like a cardboard box—or what was left of it, at least. “I’m not a fire expert,” she said slowly, “but it wouldn’t surprise me if this fire was intentionally started. ”
“Oh, no!” I said. “But that means…”
She locked eyes with me, an implacable look on her face. “It means we have an arsonist in our midst, Max.”
This wasn’t good news. Arsonists cause a lot of damage. They set houses and other property on fire and cause untold harm to people, pets, and private property.
“Okay, we need to call Chase,” said Gran determinedly. “He needs to get on top of this thing as soon as possible. And that means…” She arched an eyebrow at me.
“Um… that we need to catch the arsonist?” I ventured.
She nodded. “Too right we need to catch this miscreant. Because if we don’t, there will be a lot more of this going on in this neighborhood.
Because these people don’t stop, Max. Just like a serial killer, they need to be caught.
And we are going to do the catching,” she said, tapping her chest. “You and me,” she amended her statement.
“Me?” I asked in a squeaky voice. The last thing I wanted was to get too close to a person who enjoyed setting things on fire. After all, as stated cats are covered with fluffy fur, and if one were to light a match in our vicinity, we would go up in flames in no time.
“This is a case for the Neighborhood Watch, Max,” she said, nodding to herself and placing a hand to her chin, and looking like Sherlock Holmes on the hunt for a vicious villain. “Where are the others, by the way?” she asked as she took out her phone.
“Um… Dooley was helping a queen,” I said, as I tried to recall what my friend had been rambling on about before I had fallen asleep. “And Harriet and Brutus must be around here somewhere.”
“Well, if you see them, tell them that they need to keep a close eye on the house. And not just this house, but all the different houses on this block. Chase? Yeah, it’s Vesta.
You need to get home immediately. Someone just tried to set fire to your house.
Yeah, if it hadn’t been for Max, you would be homeless right now, buddy. ”
When Gran had finished the call, she decided to have a look around, to make sure that the arsonist wasn’t hiding in the bushes, enjoying his handiwork.
“These arsonists love to look at flames,” she explained as she rooted around underneath the rose bushes.
“Hey!” said a voice from one of those bushes. “What do you think you’re doing?”
It was, of course, Harriet, who had picked that particular rose bush to have a nap.
Though when a second cat also emerged from said rose bush, it became clear that napping had been the furthest thing from Harriet’s mind, for this second cat was none other than her boyfriend Brutus, and the two of them sure didn’t look sleepy to me!
“There is an arsonist on the loose,” Gran explained. “They tried to set fire to the house, but lucky for you guys, Max caught it in time, and I put out the flames.”
“Oh, no!” said Harriet.
“Do you mean to tell me that someone tried to burn down our home?” asked Brutus, his expression betraying his consternation.
“That’s exactly what I’m trying to tell you,” said Gran. “While you guys were in there, you didn’t happen to see the arsonist, did you? No, thought as much.” She sighed. “Max didn’t see him either, since he was off in dreamland at the time.” She glanced around. “Where is Dooley?”
“He was in another dimension,” I explained. “With an ant. I suppose he must have followed it back to its anthill—or whatever ants call their homes.”
“Okay, I don’t see him anywhere,” said Gran. “Anyway, as I was telling Max, arsonists love to admire their handiwork. They usually stick around to watch the flames, then blend into the crowd when the fire department arrives, secretly hoping the firefighters won’t manage to put out the fire.”
“We’ll have a look around the neighborhood,” said Brutus, who didn’t need to be told more. “And talk to other pets. Make sure we find the arsonist and hand him over to the police.”
“Good boy,” said Gran appreciatively. “Okay, I guess I’ll wait for Chase to arrive, along with his team, and in the meantime I will alert other homeowners that they need to be extra vigilant from now on.
These people are addicted to fire. And when they don’t succeed, they’re likely to try again and again until they get a nice big one going. ”
We all gulped at this, and I have to say that at that moment I was starting to get seriously worried about Dooley.
“You don’t think that this arsonist… kidnapped Dooley, do you?” I asked.
“Why? Because he is a witness?” asked Gran as she fingered her chin thoughtfully. “You may be closer to the truth than you imagine, Max. We’d better find Dooley soon.”
And so our quest began to locate Dooley and make sure that the four of us were all present and accounted for.
Fortunately for us, we found him straightaway. He was right across the fence, in Blake’s Field, his nose to the ground, no doubt still engaged with the same ant he had made the acquaintance of earlier.
“Dooley, am I glad to see you,” I said. “There has been a fire.”
He jerked his head up. “A fire? Oh, no! Where?”
“At our home. Or at least at our pet flap. Which is pretty much destroyed now. But Gran put out the fire and she called Chase. So now we need to make sure that the person who did this doesn’t do it again.”
He nodded. “I understand. And I think I saw the person you mean, Max.”
“You did? Oh, that’s good news. What did he look like?”
“Well, that’s just the thing. You know this person, Max. I mean, we all know this person.”
“What do you mean? Who is it?”
“Well, Marge, of course.”
I stared at my friend. “Marge set fire to the pet flap?”
He nodded. “At least I think she did. I saw her sneak into the backyard, looking very furtive. She was carrying a box of matches. So I think it’s safe to assume she is the arsonist you’re looking for.”
At that moment, Brutus and Harriet also popped their heads over the fence, and so did Gran.
“Oh, there you are, Dooley,” said Gran. “We’ve been looking for you all over the place.”
“I was talking to the ant,” he explained. “His name is Samson. He says he needs our help to keep his queen safe when she leaves the colony for some fresh air. And if we do a good job, she’ll give us a medal. You know, like the Queen of England used to do?”
“That sounds great, Dooley,” said Gran, even though she seemed a little distracted. I guess in the grand scheme of things, when your home is almost demolished by fire, a medal being awarded by a queen of ants isn’t all that important. “You wouldn’t happen to have seen an arsonist, would you?”
“Dooley says it was Marge who did it,” I said.
Gran stared at us. “Marge? My Marge?”
Dooley nodded. “She was carrying a box of matches and she looked really nervous. I even tried to talk to her, but she ignored me completely.”
“And… you actually saw her set fire to the door?” asked Gran, touching on the most vital point.
“Well… no,” Dooley admitted. “But she did look like what an arsonist would look like if he was about to set fire to a house and do his arsonisty thing. Nervous and furtive.”
“Well, darn it,” said Gran. “That is not good. That is not good at all.”
“Maybe she is suffering from some kind of nervous breakdown?” Harriet suggested. “I’ve heard that when people go through such an episode, they can act really strangely, and even perform violent acts of destruction.”
“I guess we’d better confront her,” said Gran. “Before she starts laying waste to the rest of the street and ruining our good reputation with our neighbors.”
Her head disappeared for a moment, then popped out again. “Well? What are you waiting for? I ain’t doing this without some backup from you guys. Marge may be my daughter, but if she really has gone berserk, I need all the help I can get!”
And so we scaled the fence and joined Gran in her quest to find her daughter and confront her about her strange and frankly inexplicable behavior.