Back to the Den of Spies!

"Stop looking at me like I'm Salvador Allende," I said.

I sat in the large wicker box next to the nightstand because I was large. A breeze carried the autumnal, rancorous whiff of a squirrel. I licked my right haunch.

"Quit looking at me," I said. "They have a red sticker on my file at the Den of Spies."

The Grady Girls were standing atop the sheet of bubble wrap in front of the bookcase.

"We'll be seeing you soon," they said in unison.

"The sticker is red and it says 'CAUTION.' I do what I want."

"Tony will bundle you in an I-GO car and take you to Uptown Animal Hospital. You'll come play with us. Forever and ever."

They were holding hands. Their hearts went tick-tock against their tinpot foreheads. They wouldn't move.

"Sarah Palin is a human fledgling," I said, "barely out of the egg. She rummages in dust-laden rubbish. Her brain is a tiny globe dressed up in fine rags, shy wings and silks, and it grows fat."

"Come play with us, Shimmy. Forever, and ever, and ever."

"Dr. Kissinger is afraid of my file. It says 'CAUTION.' Go away."