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me know he thought he was back in charge and he intended to stay in charge.
    That was okay with me. To tell you the truth, I was just as glad he didn’t want to investigate anything at that moment. Full of bad but filling food, I was groggy and ready for a little shut-eye. It wasn’t long before I’d fallen fast asleep.
    The sound of hushed voices woke me some time later. I’m not sure how much later, but it was dark and the moon was out. I strained to hear.
    â€œNo! I’ve already told you—”
    â€œCome on, be a pal. You’re the only one who—”
    â€œShh, not so loud. You wanna wake up the whole joint?”
    I recognized two of the voices as Felony’s and Miss Demeanor’s, but whose was the third?
    â€œLook, leave me alone, will you? You just don’t understand.”
    â€œYeah, yeah, tell it to the judge.”
    â€œListen, we can’t do this thing without you.”
    â€œAnd I told you—”
    Suddenly, I heard Chester’s voice joining the others.
    â€œWhat’s going on out there?” he demanded. That’s when I realized the voices were coming from just outside our bungalows.
    â€œOohh,” I heard Miss Demeanor purr. “It’sthe one with the cute whiskers. How’re you doin’? Want some ’nip?”
    â€œSome what?” Chester said.
    â€œâ€˜Nip, ’nip. Want some ’nip to chew? Here.”
    There was a spitting sound and Chester said, “Good grief, I don’t want your used catnip.”
    I moved to the front of my bungalow and looked out. Miss Demeanor was retrieving something from the ground. “I prefer to think of it as sharing,” she muttered.
    Chester sighed. “That is so gross,” he said. “But you didn’t answer my question. What’s going on out there?”
    â€œJust gettin’ a little air,” said Felony, coming into view. “What’s it to ya?”
    â€œIt sounded to me like you were scheming something.”
    â€œWe’re always scheming something,” said Felony. “We’re cats.”
    Chester didn’t have an argument for that one.
    Just then, Linda’s voice rang out in the night air, “But, Bob, we can’t just do nothing. We must find out what’s happened to them!”
    Before Bob or anyone else had a chance to react, there came a second voice: tiny, plaintive, and so out-and-out weird that it sent a shiver of fear through every part of me.
    At first it barked. Then it began to cry out in a strangled sort of way, “Let me out! Please . . . let . . . me . . . out . . . of . . . here!”

[ FOUR ]

Rosebud
    â€œA H-OOOOOOOOOOO!” Howie’s frightened howl—the kind Chester likes to describe as werewolvian—seemed to make the very walls of our bungalows quiver and shake.
    As fast as we could, we unlatched our doors and hurried across the compound, where we gathered in a hushed semicircle around that curious mound of dirt. I glanced to my left. Bob and Linda were huddled together, their teeth rattling. Next to them were the two cat burglars, looking a little more like timidpussycats than they might have wished. To my right, The Weasel was softly singing an inspirational tune in a tremulous voice while Hamlet whimpered and Howie woofed.
    Chester, meanwhile, stared unwaveringly at the mound of dirt, his head thrust forward in the classic feline stalking position or, as he prefers to call it, his don’t-make-a-move-I’ve-got-you-covered look.
    â€œWhat do you think?” I whispered.
    â€œI think there’s someone in there,” he said.
    At that, the general level of rattling, whimpering, and woofing rose sharply and The Weasel burst out singing: “I will be brave, I will be strong, I will be right, unless I am wrong.”
    If this was some sort of weasel anthem, it was pretty wishy-washy. No one bothered to comment, however. We were all much too busy listening