It was a bright and sunny afternoon when Fred, waking up from his nap, jumped out of the cabinetry in the kitchen and walked out to the patio, where Ally was clawing through some hanging plants.

“How’d you get up there?” he called up to her, wrapping his tail around a table leg.

“Jumped.” She tore out some petals, letting them fall out of the plant. Scaling down, she tossed a stem in Fred’s hair.

“You’re not being clean enough,” he said, tossing stray petals at her ears. Shaking them from her head, Ally dug her claws into the ground. Fred turned around, his tail catching the sun in its black sheen. “We should look for mice, I think today’s a good day.”

Chewing her paw, Ally looked at the bench thoughtfully.

“What if we looked in the living room area? Mice leave trails of hair, our whiskers can sense them.”

Shifting to his side he considered the idea of searching in the living room. “I don’t know, the first floor is practically clear of rodents since Neville put out traps… maybe we should scout the second floor on a mission.”

“Lead the way,” she yawned, a draft breezing through her hair. She got up, her bronze coat tanning in the sun.

Stepping across a black mat, the cats walked towards a set of stairs in the lobby. Scuttling up the steps, they silently stalked listening for movement in the surroundings. They arrived at a landing, seeing doors stretched across the wood floorboards. They entered the middle room, stepping in. They viewed a pale gray wall pattern surrounding mahogany wood furniture, with a four poster bed in the middle.

Slinking around, Ally kneeled beneath a vanity, looking for traces of mouse fur. Moving past her, Fred climbed onto a closet lever, opening a door as he swung into a room. He fell onto a pile of boxers, landing softly with a thump. Peeking through the thatches he saw a pile of coats on the other side. Jumping out, he sniffed at the pile looking for mouse refuse. Fred found only his and Ally’s hairs through the layers of belt buckles and tartan prints while he shuffled.

Ally further looked through the vanity, drawing ajar the first case with her tail. She climbed inside, searching through folders of artwork framed in glassware. Finding no mouse tracings, she slipped into the next drawer. She found various photographs, shining images of Neville with family and friends. She found one of his mother, a svelte woman in a tracksuit, posing athletically next to him. In another one she found Neville in an old age home with an aging man in a wheelchair. Written on its back, Ally read the words, “dinner with grandpa.” She whiffed around a diploma, a curling paper with the words “Neville Esteves, Bachelor of Sciences, Biology” written on it in cursive. Discovering no mouse tracks, she hopped out of the dresser.

“I’m not seeing any tracings!” Fred yelled back to Ally. Stepping out of the closet he caught her stretching on the bed, her back arching in a bow. She climbed onto a closet next to the bed, finding herself surrounded by packs of tissues and photo frames. Following her, he landed on the mattress, where he found her hair on a sheet cover, causing him to groan. He meowed sassily at her, pushing the hairs into a corner of the bed frame.

“I’m doing your job,” he yelled in Ally’s way. He traveled after her, scaling up the closet. He moved past the shelves, treading over different items. He walked past layers of linens in boxes, catching sight of pillow cases folded in stacks and glimpsing stray moth balls. He pushed up to the top, rolling onto the surface with finesse.

“A string by me is connected to the ceiling, check it out!” Ally said back to him.

They looked to the string, its white tendrils wafting in a breeze. Fred lunged at the string, dangling from its wire, opening a ceiling door. Clinging to the cord, he tightened his grip carefully. Ally jumped on the open door, landing on its ridged plywood floor, climbing up its incline. Inching up the string, Fred climbed into the board after Ally. He walked up the plank onto a landing at its end. Pulling into the surface he looked as objects surrounded him, cluttering about. He walked to a pile of cassettes, looking at plastic covers wrapping black plastic cases.

“Wow, this place’s full of things,” Ali said, coming from behind a box of broken lamps.

“Achoo!” He sneezed, sending particles off the book covers onto the floor. He shook his head, clearing particles from his coat. Climbing to the second row, he walked past many books, checking between each title looking for traces. “Anne of Green Gables,” “Ripley’s Believe It or Not,” “The Lord of the Flies,” he read, finding no sight of trackings. Climbing to the next shelf , he landed on a scattering of magazines, shiny photographic covers covering his path. He stepped past pictures of politicians and celebrities, images displayed with type printed atop. He pawed at a magazine, opening it to find sheets of text printed in columns. Hopping to the next level he found himself on the top. Scratching, he checked through linings of insulation, pink layers of fabric crinkling in his claws. He came across a window. Peering through it, he saw his face and felt startled, faltering back. He fell off the shelf, landing on the ground with a thud.

Fred shifted towards a shelf of books, the rows covered in hard copies displaying titles in gold and black lettering. Sifting through them, he collected particles of dust in his whiskers.

Meanwhile, Ally searched through a large cardboard box, finding various millinery. She wrapped herself in a scarf, twisting a silk chiffon fabric about her frame in a swirl of style. She walked through a metal ring, a iron circle with a buckle beneath her paws in the shape of a tree. “This is so fancy!” She meowed at Fred, encircling herself in crochet.

Walking towards her, Fred shrieked in distress. “There’s no mice, all the walls are lined with traps.”

“How’d you find out?” She said, circling in her outfit.

Hissing, he belched. “I fell off the shelf and saw many traps by the walls, behind the containers .” Moving around, he raged, hassled by the loss. Ally watched him, worrisome.

Ally suddenly found a table facing a clear wall, with a metal machine on it. “What a interesting device!” She explored around it, tapping around its metal frame. Fred jumped up, cautious about the device. He stepped accidentally on a switch, turning on the machine. A ring carrying a roll of film began to spin, as a ray extended from the glass eye of the box.

Ally and Fred stared in awe as an image starts to form on the walls. A gold banner loomed in front of them, curling about in a wreath. A lion started to roar in the center, causing them to start crying in excitement. The words “Metro Goldwyn Mayer” formed above it as a piano began to play.

They writhed in ecstasy as a cartoon pink panther began to move across the screen, crawling about as a trench coat-clad detective followed.