The Mysteries of Max: Books 31-33 by Nic Saint (chrome ebook reader txt) 📗

with an external hard drive. If this keeps happening something has to give, and that hard drive will eventually break down. And so it was that I decided, after the third night in a row where I’d been thusly treated by my erstwhile favorite human, to beat a strategic retreat to the couch downstairs. Like a husband being relegated to the couch after having misbehaved, with the main difference that I hadn’t misbehaved in the slightest, or that I am Odelia’s significant other. That honor is reserved for Chase Kingsley, a local cop.

Chase Kingsley isn’t merely Odelia’s boyfriend, he’s also her fiancé, and since the day of their nuptials was almost upon us, I surmised that this was presumably the reason she kept lashing out in the middle of the night, perhaps in the throes of some nervous spasm.

I awoke when Dooley joined me. It was still dark out, so dawn hadn’t yet arrived. My friend, a smallish gray ragamuffin, looked a little frazzled, and when I asked him about it, he said, “She kicked me! Odelia kicked me off the bed, Max. Can you imagine?”

I said I could imagine. In fact I could do more than that. I could commiserate, and so I did, to my heart’s content. “I think it’s this upcoming wedding,” I said with a yawn.

“The wedding?” said Dooley, glancing back to the staircase where presumably he expected Odelia to come rushing down after him. Belying her nocturnal exercise regimen, though, Odelia was fast asleep, and so was her future husband.

“The wedding of Odelia and Chase?”

“Oh, that wedding,” he said, as if multiple weddings were about to take place. He was, of course, still flabbergasted by recent happenings, nor could I blame him. My friend shook his head. “Why would a wedding make her kick me off the bed, Max? I don’t get it.”

“I think the whole wedding thing is making her extremely nervous,” I explained, “and so she’s been having a tough time getting her regular eight hours in.”

“But why? Isn’t a wedding supposed to be fun? Joy and laughter and all that stuff?”

“It is, but it’s also a huge undertaking. A lot of arrangements have to be made. We’re not talking about a modest affair here, Dooley. This wedding is the mother of all weddings. A monster matrimony future generations will talk about in hushed tones.”

If you think I’m exaggerating, I can assure you that I am not. Odelia and Chase had set out to organize a smallish affair, just a couple of friends and family, but gradually the thing had blown up to epic proportions, and the guest list now included the entire population of Hampton Cove—or so it seemed. You know how it is. You invite an uncle, but then you also have to invite his wife and all of your cousins. You invite a friend, and she decides to put all of her friends on the list, lest they feel slighted and she gets lonely. And you can’t invite just one colleague—you have to invite them all, kids and partners included. And since Odelia and her family are pretty much fixtures in Hampton Cove, they probably know everybody who’s somebody and a whole bunch of nobodies, too.

Dooley placed his head on his front paws, still keeping an eye on that staircase, just in case Odelia came stomping down to mete out some more kicks to an unsuspecting pair of felines. “I wish this wedding was over already, Max. I thought it was going to be a lot of fun, but if it makes Odelia kick us off the bed, I don’t mind telling you that I just wish it was all over with already.”

“That’s all right, Dooley,” I said. “I’m sure Odelia will relax once the fateful day is finally upon us and she’s standing in front of her future husband and saying, ‘I do.’”

“Do you think we’ll be invited, too?” asked my friend.

“Oh, sure. What kind of wedding would it be if we weren’t? I’m sure she’ll give us the best seats in the house.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that,” suddenly a voice sounded from the kitchen. It was Harriet, and she was licking her mustache, a clear sign she’d just eaten her fill. I hadn’t even heard her enter, but then that’s cats for you: they tread ever so lightly on feet of fur.

“What do you mean?” I asked. “Surely Odelia wants us to be there on her big day.”

“Look, personally I wouldn’t mind being invited,” said the white Persian as she trotted up and joined us on the couch. “I mean, I wouldn’t mind if I wasn’t, either, but just suppose she does invite us, it’s going to be a nightmare, you guys.”

“A nightmare?” said Dooley, darting another quick look at the staircase. “You mean, like what Odelia’s been having for the last couple of nights?”

“Exactly. I was talking to Shanille last night and she said it’s going to be one of those occasions best avoided. Can you imagine all of Hampton Cove crowding into that church and creating a big pileup? There’s going to be trampling, there’s going to be stomping, and gnashing of impatient teeth while they all fight to file in. And whose tails do you think are going to be crushed and mangled?” To show us she meant what she said, she carefully folded her tail around her buttocks and gave us a meaningful look.

Both Dooley and I winced at the word picture she was painting. Our tails may look like useless appendages merely added to increase our cuteness factor times ten, but they are sensitive and dislike being indiscriminately trampled on by big and clumsy feet. It was a potential disaster that gave me pause. Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate humans as much as the next cat, but they do have a tendency not to look where they step, especially when fighting for a good spot—like at Macy’s when they organize an end-of-season sale.

Or Odelia’s upcoming wedding.

“So you think we better steer