Dogs were the human’s first allies, a fact most of them held with great pride. They are fierce protectors – loyal to the last bork – and throughout history, they have protected humankind from all kinds of dangers, Greebles among them. However, up until the Pact of Pets was forged, dogs never had access to the ancient magics that the cats had created to combat these dangerous foes. Some dogs still resent cats to this day for keeping the knowledge secret for so long, but Boris wasn’t among them. He was just happy that he was able to help.
This was why Boris couldn’t help feeling a pang of disappointment when, as soon as Young Sir Reginald had left the living room, his father decided it would be the perfect time to flirt with Mittens, and she started flirting right back! Boris’s best friend, The Great Sir Reginald Harvey Taylor II, self-proclaimed Greeble-hunter extraordinaire, was neglecting his duties to chase some tail?! After watching the two blissfully chatting and flirting for a few minutes, barely scanning the room as they circled it, Boris knew that he couldn’t rely upon the lovesick felines tonight.
“I’m, uh… I’m having a hard time picking out any scents when I’m following Mittens around, since her smell is so new to me,” he lied. “Maybe I could split up from you two? We can cover more ground that way anyway.”
“Sure, sure,” Sir Reginald mumbled half-heartedly. Mittens didn’t even respond.
As he expected, their attention was compromised.
Boris turned around and doubled back on the trio’s previous route, re-examining the perimeter of the living room they’d walked before reaching the entrance to the dining room. Usually, Boris would have completed a full circle of the room before proceeding to another, but when he stuck his snout through the archway, a strange smell wafted past him.
Following his sniffer, he crossed through the middle of the room, weaving through the legs of the table and chairs. He stalked the scent to the far wall and followed it to the right. He looked and listened for other hints as to whatever left the scent, but he found nothing: just the clear trail leading directly to the kitchen, the exact place where Salem had said he’d found the piece of the Greeble before.
He considered briefly whether he should call over his feline companions, but after listening to their conversation for a moment and overhearing Mittens compliment Sir Reginald’s “luscious coat” and “skilled tongue,” he shuddered and moved forward on his own.
Boris’s nails clicked and clacked against the wooden floor as he walked closer to the kitchen. With every step he took, the stale, musty smell grew stronger. Like the scent of a strong rain on a hot summer's day, but stuffed in a cellar and left to rot for ages unknown, it grew so intense that it was almost overwhelming to cross the kitchen’s threshold.
Regardless, Boris plunged his snout over the linoleum and sniffed tentatively, trying to locate the source from where he stood, but it was impossible. He wandered around the room, but he couldn’t pinpoint a location. It was like every inch of the kitchen was covered in a thick cloud, and when he stopped to think about it, he was having a little difficulty breathing, like… there wasn’t enough air in the air? He wasn’t sure.
With his nose out of commission, Boris looked and listened for any other Signs, and while he found no more that he recognized, there was a dark, heavy pit forming in the bottom of his stomach. The dogs of the world didn’t have a list of Signs that they memorized like the cats did – instead, they relied on their instincts, and Boris’s instincts were telling him that something very bad was coming.
After he finished his sweep of the kitchen, he moved back to the dining room and took a breath of fresh air. He finished his rounds, sniffing and searching through the entire room, but found nothing of interest other than one of Salem’s toys, which only distracted him for a few minutes.
While Boris was tugging at the stuffed bird on a string, Cricket and Young Sir Reginald crept their way upstairs and nearly gagged when they entered the kitchen. They sprung into the dining room, and Boris gave them a knowing look. “I don’t know what happened there,” he said, “but I don’t have a good feeling about this.”
At that point, he noticed that Young Sir Reginald was holding something in his mouth, something that probably shouldn’t go in anything’s mouth: a slimy, rubbery looking something.
“I don’t have a good feeling about this either. We found this in the corner of the basement,” Cricket answered, indicating the mucus-covered mass that Young Sir Reginald held in his mouth, “and it was directly below the kitchen, if I’m not mistaken.” She thought for a moment. “Do you know what’s in the room above it?”
“I’m not sure,” replied Boris. “Salem always comes down to the living room to talk since it’s got that big bay window facing our house. He also says it has a great sunspot.”
Young Sir Reginald mumbled something, but his mouth was full.
“Well, let’s find him and tell him about The Signs we found,” Cricket continued, staring at the kitchen’s ceiling. “I expect he’ll probably have found something up there as well.”