Mr. Basil's Pets

During breakfast the next morning, Mr. Basil suggested that we visit Toby for a while.

"But Basil!" Uncle David protested. "What of Mrs. Hudson's cat? Until last June, she was the most feared mouser in the empire!"

"Toby will ensure the children come to no harm," Mr. Basil replied nonchalantly.

After checking to make sure the humans were gone, he left us in the flat above his. As soon as Mr. Basil had gone back to his own flat, a tall, skinny cat walked over to where we were standing.

"You're really cute, but I've already had my breakfast."

My eyes widened. Was this cat really going to eat us?

"Don't be alarmed," she continued. "I know you must be surprised to hear a cat speaking, but it's only in the presence of humans and adult mice that we cats and dogs must hold our tongues. As the four of you are children, I don't mind if you know I can talk."

"If you're going to have us for a snack," Danielle began, "will you eat the baby first?" She held up Rena.

The cat scooped up our baby sister.

A dog approached. "Felicia, what are you doing?"

"This is MY baby!" The cat gently kissed Rena. "Get your own!"

"Little Basil has already gone to your head, hasn't he, 'Auntie'?" the dog joked.

Felicia smiled, not complaining at all when Rena jerked out a handful of whiskers.

The dog turned to us and explained, "Two of our mouse friends recently had their first baby. They named him after Detective Basil, and there's no convincing the cat that the child isn't her biological nephew. When they brought him to visit last week, she fell completely in love with him."

"Even the vicious sleuth hound has a soft spot."

He chuckled a little. "You have a point, cat. He is rather adorable."

"I always wanted my own kitten, someone I could train to capture felons and obey the law. I would love my child, no matter how it looked, but it would be so wonderful to have a calico!"

"I know what you mean," the dog put in. "I've often wished for my own puppy, someone to teach to sleuth." He sighed. "Being married to one's career produces no heirs."

"Nor does a criminal record. There are two kinds of cats in this world: those who eat mice and those who don't. Show me a cat who eats mice, and I'll show you a cat who will never have my respect. Show me a cat who does not eat mice, and I'll show you a cat whose respect I will never have." She cleared her throat. "Well?"

"Well what?"

"Toby, it is proper etiquette to make introductions when guests arrive. I assume these children must be related to the wasted oath."

"Uh…'wasted oath'?"

"A slang term that members of the world's greatest criminal ring used for 'physician,'" the cat explained. "Ratigan never approved of doctors, claiming that they were all charlatans, but every now and then, he'd meet one who was actually intelligent and good at his job, and the rat would say, 'The Hippocratic Oath was wasted on this mouse! Had he not vowed to do no harm, he would have made a fine criminal!'"

Toby nodded. "I see. So if 'wasted oath' is the term used for a skilled physician, what do you call one who just makes the problem worse?"

"'Meddler.'"

"I should have guessed as much."

"The henchmen practically had their own dictionary of medical terminology," Felicia continued. "Antiseptic was called 'lemon juice,' and salve was referred to as 'salt.' Bartholomew used those terms a lot to fool Ratigan. When someone wanted to know what sort of antiseptic was used to clean a wound, he would ask, 'What vintage of lemon juice did you drink?' 'Friday night at the Rat Trap' meant a strong antiseptic whereas 'just a nip' meant a very mild one."

"That's interesting," the dog remarked.

"The word for 'cauterize' was 'brand' because the procedure used to be done with hot metal, coals, gunpowder, or something similar. 'Embroidery' meant that sutures of some form had to be administered. 'Chopping wood' meant a limb was injured. General anesthetic was known as 'dying in one's sleep' because of the way Ratigan executed so many of his poor victims. A bandage was known as 'the mark of shame.'"

"How do you remember all this?"

"I remember because I lived with the sewer rat and his band of Miserable Mice for…ten years? Fifteen maybe? At any rate, it was too long!"

"When someone was hurt, what was the phrase for telling them that more pain would be caused before the injury could begin to heal?"

Felicia smirked. "'This will feel like being called a rat!'"

Toby started laughing. "Oh, he would have LOVED that one!"

"Bartholomew came up with the idea."

"How many times did he use the 'r' word before he finally had to pay for it?"

The cat glared. "That's a delicate way to put it!"

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to…"

"I lost count," she interrupted. "He used the term whenever he wanted, but he was so clever! Until he started drinking, he was never caught, knowing when it was or wasn't safe to throw insults." After a pause, she added, "You know, I never heard him insult anyone else, just Ratigan. He didn't even insult the mice who said, 'Bartholomew Ingham, are you an idiot?! You know why the boss has a kitten, don't you?'"

"'Are you an idiot?'" Toby frowned. "What kind of a question is that?!"

"A very common one before Bartholomew fell into alcoholism. He always replied, 'I may very well be. I work for Ratigan, don't I?'"

Jesse tapped my shoulder and whispered, "Do you have any idea what they're talking about?"

Overhearing him, Felicia lightly smacked Toby on the shoulder. "How rude we've been! We can discuss lair life later. Right now, we have guests! These children should hear a story!"

The dog grinned. "I know a story!"