The Great Pet Heist

She peeked up into the vent. “Huh. It does smell kind of empty and pretzelish. I wonder who—HEY!” Polo’s whiskers bristled, and her eyes widened. “Marco! It’s the girl!”

Marco turned to look so quickly that he bruised his nose on the grate. “OUR girl? She lives in this one?”

They pressed their faces to the grate to get a closer look. Madison’s pink backpack was on the kitchen table, and she was sitting alone reading a book.

“Why don’t I smell other people there?” Polo said. “Heck, I barely smell her.”

“Your nose isn’t as good as Butterbean’s, I guess. It makes sense that the girl lives somewhere, though, right? Why not here? Bob lives here. In the building, I mean.”

Polo shook her head as she watched Madison read. “It feels wrong. Something is wrong. I don’t like this.”

Marco gasped. “Oh man. You’re right something is wrong. Look at her.”

Madison had stopped reading. She put her book down on the table and stood up. Then she picked up her jacket and a set of keys hanging by the door.

“What?” Polo said, watching Madison put her shoes on. “What’s so wrong?”

“We’ve taken too long,” Marco said, pointing at Madison. “She’s leaving. Don’t you see?”

He grabbed Polo by both shoulders.

“She’s leaving to go take care of us.”

10

“IT’LL BE FINE, RIGHT?” POLO leaped like a rat Olympic high jumper into the up vent. “The others will cover for us. The girl will never suspect that we’re gone.”

“Maybe Walt will pretend she ate us. I’d buy that,” Marco said, pulling himself up into the vent after her.

“Walt would never eat us,” Polo scoffed.

“Maybe not before. But NOW? If we’ve messed this up, she’ll be super mad. We need to hurry!” Marco looked wildly around the top-floor vent. He didn’t know how Wallace could tell them all apart. “Is it that one?” He pointed to a shadowy grate a few feet away.

“I think so,” Polo said. “Now calm down. We have to do this right. It won’t do us any good to panic.” She edged toward the grate. She could practically feel the Coin Man waiting for her. She braced herself and nodded at Marco. “Let’s go.”

The elevator ding in the hallway took Walt, Oscar, and Butterbean by surprise. Walt was taking care of a little personal hygiene, Oscar was having a millet snack, and Butterbean was playing with a piece of fluff on the floor. None of them expected Madison to come back so soon. Butterbean sat up so quickly that she inhaled her fluff. “Madison?” she coughed.

Walt stopped midlick, her ears swiveling toward the door.

“Oh no,” Butterbean gasped.

“Urk,” Oscar choked, spitting out a flurry of millet shells.

“It can’t be,” Walt said. Surely it was someone for some other apartment. “It can’t be time yet.”

“I do need to pee,” Butterbean said. She hadn’t wanted to mention it before, but it was true.

A key turned in the lock. The three stared at one another in horror.

“Quick. Distractions. Don’t let her see they’re gone,” Oscar said, flying around his cage and hopping on the perch. “Do whatever it takes!”

The door opened, and Madison stepped inside smiling. “Hey, you guys!” she said brightly.

“Butterbean, go,” Walt said under her breath. Butterbean nodded and launched herself at Madison.

“How’s it—oof!” Madison was abruptly cut off by the small furry dog slamming into her kneecaps. “HEY!”

“OUT OUT, OH PLEASE TAKE ME OUT OUT OUT,” Butterbean wailed, jumping up and down.

“That should do it,” Walt said softly, hopping up onto the table next to Marco and Polo’s empty aquarium. She lounged casually in front of it, trying to hide the lack of occupants from view.

“Okay, sure, little guy, just give me a second,” Madison said, laughing and trying to dodge Butterbean’s wild jumps in the air. “Just let me check on the others real quick. Then we’ll go.”

“OH NO, NO TIME, NEED TO PEE, PLEASE PLEASE,” Butterbean yelped, doing her best need-to-pee dance. Oscar watched, impressed. She was really outdoing herself.

Madison patted at Butterbean absently and made her way over to Oscar’s cage. “Everything okay, bird?”

“Fine,” Oscar said in his human voice.

“Oh.” Madison reeled back, shocked. “Well, good.” Oscar eyed her carefully.

Butterbean slowed her pee dance down to a lazy shuffle and frowned at Madison. “I should totally pee on the floor. She would deserve it.”

“Please don’t, Bean,” Walt said, draping herself over the aquarium dramatically. “You’re doing great.”

“It’s like she doesn’t even understand urgency,” Butterbean lamented, doing a jig around the entryway.

“And how are you?” Madison said, walking over to Walt. “Are you okay? You look… strange?”

Walt blinked at her.

“And how are your little friends?” Madison said, bending down to peer inside the aquarium.

“EMERGENCY! EMERGENCY!” Oscar screeched. “Distraction, Walt!”

Walt scanned the area for options. A water glass that Mrs. Food had left on the table was standing nearby. Walt reached out slowly and put a paw on it.

Madison stopped immediately. “Oh no. Don’t do that.”

Walt meowed and pushed the glass an inch forward.

“Good kitty. Just leave the glass alone.” Madison stepped forward, her hands outstretched.

Walt pushed the glass closer to the edge of the table, paused, and then shoved it slowly off the edge.

“No!” Madison lunged forward and caught the glass in midair. “Whew! Silly cat!”

She carried the glass into the kitchen and put it in the sink. Then she grabbed Butterbean’s leash and came back to the living room. “Good grief, what’s with you guys today?”

She clipped the leash onto Butterbean’s collar and opened the door.

Butterbean smirked as she trotted out of the house. “About time!”

“Thank goodness,” Oscar said, slumping down on his perch. “We did it.”

“For now,” Walt said, turning to look at the vent.

“But this doesn’t make sense.” Polo peered through the dusty grate. “This is the apartment with the treasure? This place is so… BORING.”

“Right? Where are the piles of jewels? Where’s all the gold?” Marco looked around at the beige living room. He’d expected walls encrusted with gems, or maybe some kind of seedy criminal lair. Not boring tweed sofas and vinyl chairs.

Polo scurried down the vent to the next grate along the line. Standing on her hind legs, she quickly peered inside. It was a standard bedroom, nothing flashy or special. Definitely not a treasure lair. “Beige,” she muttered. “Everything is beige.”

“Weird. It’s not personal AT ALL,” Marco said.

“It’s like it’s all rented.” Polo brightened. “Maybe that’s it! Maybe this is just a place where they stash their loot!”

“Okay, sure,” Marco agreed. “But then where’s the loot?”

“I don’t know.” Polo had never felt so confused. Knowing whose apartment it was, she’d expected cold waves of evil to come from everything inside, but it was all just so ordinary.

Marco pointed down the vent. “There’s one more grate. We could try it. But I think it’s the—”

“Oh no,” Polo squeaked. “Marco, that’s the bathroom grate. No thank you. You can check if you want.” She rolled her eyes. She’d never heard about treasure stashed in the bathroom.

“I’ll just take a quick look-see,” Marco said, heading down to the final grate. He stuck his eye up to one of the gaps. He’d hardly taken a look when he squeaked and jumped back. “Polo! It’s—there’s someone here! Look!”

Polo rushed to the grate and then hung back. “I can’t look!”

“Why not?”

“They’re in the bathroom!”

“Just look! It’s not embarrassing. And it’s NOT the creepy guy! No blue eyes!”

Polo covered her eyes (in case the person in the bathroom needed a little privacy), but as soon as she took a peek, she dropped her hands in shock.

“Who’s that guy?” she squeaked.

The man at the bathroom sink wasn’t the creepy Coin Man. This guy had shaggy hair and brown eyes, and he was wearing a shiny-looking suit. He didn’t seem particularly friendly, but he wasn’t giving Polo the heebie-jeebies like the other man had. He didn’t look like he’d eat her for lunch.

Marco and Polo pressed their faces to the grate, watching as the shaggy guy dried his hands on his pants and then headed out into the living room.

“Quick, to the other grate!” Marco squealed, hurrying back toward the living room.

“A second guy,” Polo said under her breath. “Oh, that’s not good.”

“No, and what’s worse, there’s no sign of treasure at all,” Marco called over his shoulder.

“Of course not, not in the bathroom,” Polo scoffed.

“But, Polo. Maybe Butterbean was wrong?” Marco slumped against the grate. “Oh man, we’re going to be living in the vents after all.” He ruffled his hands through the fur on his head. “I don’t even know if there’ll be room for Walt and Butterbean and Oscar. Do you think they can squeeze?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. We’re not living in the vents,” Polo said. At least she hoped not, because the others would absolutely not be able to squeeze. “Butterbean’s nose is reliable. Just keep watching.”

The shaggy-haired man was looking in the refrigerator, apparently unhappy with what he saw. He stared inside for a few minutes and finally closed it without getting anything. Then he opened a couple of cabinets, sighed, and closed them again.

“I know that feeling,” Marco muttered.

The man took out his phone and started looking at it.

“That’s it,” Marco said, pushing away from the grate. “There’s no point in watching this. We failed. Again. There’s nothing we can do.”

“We can’t give up!” Polo squeaked. “Sure, it’s all boring. But it’s surveillance! It’s supposed to be boring!”

Marco sighed. “I think we were wrong, Polo. I don’t think there’s any treasure. Maybe it was just the one coin.”

Polo clenched her jaw. “What did you want him to do, just pull out the coins and start counting them?” she said. “Pretty unrealistic, Marco. This isn’t a movie.”

“I expected something!” Marco said, waving his arm in the direction of the grate. “More than this!”

The man in the apartment put down his phone and sighed. Then he opened the cabinet-style end table by the couch and took out a small duffel bag. He hoisted it onto the coffee table, unzipped it, and dumped out a stash of gold coins.

“Holy cow,” Polo said in a low voice.

Marco’s eyes bugged out as he looked at the pile. “Guess it wasn’t so unrealistic after all, huh.”

“I guess not.” Polo raised her hand for a high five. “Whoohoo!”

“Whoo!” Marco echoed, high-fiving her. “We did it! We found the coins. And boy, there are a LOT of them.”

“Tons,” Polo said. “Good news for us, right?”

“Right!”

They watched the man counting the gold pieces in front of him. It was strangely soothing. They were so shiny.

Finally Marco shot Polo a sidelong look. “How are we ever going to carry a bag like that?”

Polo didn’t answer. She just stared at the pile of coins and the duffel bag that was almost as big as Butterbean.

Walt was trying to look calm, but her tail was twitching wildly. She didn’t think she would be able to keep Madison from noticing the aquarium again. It was pretty obvious the rats weren’t in it.

“Maybe I could pretend my wing is broken? Do a big show of flapping around?” Oscar said thoughtfully. He’d done a little acting in his younger days. Maybe it was time to get back to his roots.

“Sure, but what would she do then, take you to the vet?” Walt said. “We don’t want that.”

“No, true,” Oscar said, shuddering. He definitely didn’t want to go to the vet. “So no wing. Another hairball?”

“I can try, but I’d rather not.” Hairballs were Walt’s specialty, but she hated to overuse them.

“We’ll keep that as a backup then. As a last resort.” Oscar tapped his beak against the bars of his cage. “Should I soil my newspaper?”

“Do you think she’d notice?” Walt asked.

“Hmm. Maybe not,” Oscar admitted.

“Still, it’s worth a try,” Walt said. Marco and Polo had been gone a long time. She’d been so sure they would be back before Butterbean and Madison returned, but now she was afraid they might not come back at all. They didn’t really know anything about those vents, after all. Anything could have happened.

The elevator dinged in the hallway.

“The girl?” Oscar asked.

“I think so.” Walt took a deep breath and stood up. She took one last glance at the vent. Empty.

“I’m ready to soil as needed,” Oscar said.

“Thanks,” Walt said as she listened to Butterbean’s tags jingling in the hallway. “Here we go.”

As the key turned in the lock, Walt heard a loud skittering behind her. Marco and Polo ran out into the living room just as the door started to swing open.

“Rats! Take cover!” Oscar screamed. “It’s the girl!”

“Shoot!” Marco squeaked in alarm, immediately bumping into Polo and knocking them both over.

Walt took one look at the slapstick rat routine behind her and made a decision. And as Madison walked in the door with Butterbean, she sprang.

“Whoa!” Madison squealed as Walt hit her full in the chest, knocking her back. “Cat!”

Walt held on with her claws and scaled Madison’s chest until she’d reached Madison’s shoulders, immediately whipping her tail into Madison’s face. “GO GO GO!” Walt meowed as she coiled her body around Madison’s head.

“GO!” Marco said, grabbing Polo by the hand and giving her a boost up the table leg. The two scrambled for the aquarium as Madison staggered out of the entryway.

“Should I wrap my leash around her legs?” Butterbean barked excitedly. “That could be fun!”

“We don’t want to kill her!” Oscar squawked.

“Oh, okay,” Butterbean pouted, sitting down on the rug. “It’s safe now, Walt! They’re inside again.”

Marco and Polo slid down the water bottle into their cage, flopping into a pile in the cedar chips and pretending to be asleep. It wasn’t hard to do. They were both exhausted. The wheel didn’t keep them as in shape as they’d thought.

“Sheesh, cat, I’m glad to see you, too, but come on!” Madison managed to scoop Walt off her shoulders and set her down gently on the couch. “Good kitty,” she said, patting Walt on the head.

Walt ignored her and started licking her tail.

Madison snorted and turned to the other animals. “Okay, so everybody good, then? Anybody else crazy today? Rats?” Madison peeked into their aquarium. “Rats are good? Bird? Good? Okay then. See you guys.” She staggered back toward the door and grabbed for the handle. “Sheesh!”

She scooted through the doorway quickly, like she expected the animals to jump her again, and then she was gone.

Marco rolled over on his back and groaned. Polo popped her head out of the aquarium. “Is it safe? Because oh man, we’ve got problems.”

11

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN THERE’S another guy?” Walt said, lashing her tail in frustration. Butterbean stepped quietly to the side. Walt had already hit her in the face with it three times. It kind of stung.

“That’s what we saw! There’s another guy!” Marco insisted. “He was counting the coins!”

“He’s not as creepy as the main guy. But we still have to get past him, too,” Polo pointed out. “That’s TWICE as many guys.”

“Not to mention figuring out how we’re going to carry such a HUGE bag of coins. That thing was as big as Butterbean!” Marco said. “I was thinking Oscar could grab it, but how could he fly with it? It’d be so heavy!”

“He has a bad back!” Polo said, pointing at Oscar.

“It’s not that bad,” Oscar said, shifting awkwardly. So he had a few twinges every now and then. It’s not like he was totally incapacitated.

“We thought maybe we could pass the coins under the door and drag them down in the elevator,” Marco said.

“But we still have to get someone on the inside! And how do we do that? Again, we were thinking Oscar, but how do we get those open?” Polo said, waving her arms at the windows.

“And again, bad back!” Marco squeaked.

Polo slumped against the table leg. “We have a lot of issues to work out.”

“Hold on,” Walt said, pacing back and forth in front of the Television. “Hold on.”

“Okay,” Butterbean said uncertainly.

Everyone watched as Walt stalked across the floor, head down, obviously deep in thought.

“Hold on,” Walt said again, even though nobody had said anything. The others kept watching.

“Hold on to what?” Butterbean said finally.

“I’ve got it.” Walt sat down on the carpet. “Problem solved. We can do this.”

“Wonderful,” Oscar said cautiously. “Mind telling us how?”

“I’ve got a guy,” Walt said. “He can help us. He can handle the inside work.”

“You’ve got a guy,” Oscar said.

“I’ve got a guy.” Walt lashed her tail in satisfaction.

Oscar opened his mouth and then shut it again. Butterbean cocked her head to the side.

“We’ll have to ask him, but if we present it the right way, I think he’ll do it,” Walt said confidently. “It’s perfect.”

Butterbean cocked her head even farther to the side.

“You’ve got a guy,” Oscar said again.

Walt nodded.

Butterbean erupted.

“YOU’VE GOT A GUY?” Butterbean lifted off the ground with every word. “WHO ARE YOU? You’ve got a guy! You’ve got a secret vent! You have computer skills! THERE ARE RATS AND YOU KNEW! It’s like I don’t even KNOW you anymore, Walt!”

“The dog has a point,” Oscar said dryly.

“Calm down, Bean,” Walt said. She’d never seen Butterbean get so worked up. The stress was obviously taking a toll.

“DON’T ‘BEAN’ ME!” Butterbean yelped. “YOU HAVE A SECRET LIFE.”

“Is it Bob?” Marco asked. “Is he your guy?”

Walt blinked. “Bob? No. Why would it be Bob?” The idea that she’d have a secret connection to Bob was more than a little disturbing. What kind of cat did they think she was?