Chetspeak on Sunday
I took a quick sniff, smelled no trouble whatsoever, just as I’d expected, but did smell lots of other stuff, including burgers cooking on a grill. I looked around: no grill in sight, and this wasn’t the time to go searching, although all at once I was a bit hungry, maybe even more than a bit. We were on the job, trailing some woman whose name I’d forgotten. She’d led us out of the Valley to a motel in a flea-bitten desert town. That was what Bernie called it – flea-bitten – but I felt no fleas at all, hadn’t been bothered by them in ages, not since I started on the drops. But the funny thing was, even though I didn’t have fleas, just the thought of them suddenly made me itchy. I started scratching, first behind my ear, soon along my side, then both at once, really digging in with my claws, faster and –
“Chet, for God’s sake.”
I went still, one of my back paws frozen in mid-air. Bernie gave me a close look. “Don’t tell me I forgot the drops?” I gave him a close look right back.
– from TO FETCH A THIEF.
Note: Still working on a fix for the Friends gallery. No uploading possible at this time.
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