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It’ll make you feel better.”
    â€œI’m going to Hemingway House.” Roland moved toward the courtyard that led to Duval Street. Stinky fell in behind him.
    As Roland passed by the pool he came upon a sad scene. The hotel manager was cradling a sodden tabby on her lap and weeping. As he passed her she looked up at him with tears streaming down her face and said, “My poor little Mr. Whiskers, he drowned in the pool last night. I can’t understand it, he never went near water … wouldn’t even dip his paws in the Koi pond to chase the fish.”
    â€œIt wasn’t me!” Stinky’s voice sounded a little too emphatic in Roland’s head. “I didn’t crawl out of the window last night. I slept like a kitten and besides, I told that cat to watch out, he was walking too close to the pool—”
    â€œGet out of my head,” Roland said under his breath in amazement as he stared at Stinky.
    â€œDid you say something?” said the manager.
    I thought I was just drunk and hearing things last night, but I think maybe I’ve completely lost my mind this time. “Oh no, nothing.” Roland said and looked down at his shoes. He wondered if he would be able to master the fine art of turning palm fronds into rosebuds while he talked to himself. Maybe he’d take the bartender up on one of those little aluminum foil hats.
    â€œI see you found a little friend of your own,” said the woman, brightening as she looked down at Stinky. As Roland followed the woman’s gaze he noticed Stinky looked a little guilty. The cat turned his head away to avoid looking at the lady or the waterlogged tabby draped across her lap. “Off to see the sights?” said the manager.
    â€œI thought I’d take in Hemingway’s house,” said Roland, “and then wander around town.”
    â€œDon’t miss the sunset festival at the docks,” said the lady, “there is a guy down there who has trained cats. They jump through flaming hoops and walk a tightwire.”
    â€œAny of those cats telepathic?”
    The lady gave him a quizzical look as Stinky emitted a strange sound, somewhere between a meow and a growl. Roland noticed it sounded anxious.
    â€œNever mind,” said Roland, “I just thought maybe it might be something going around down here.”
    Stinky mewed loudly and tugged on the cuff of Roland’s pants with his teeth, in an attempt to pull Roland into forward motion.
    â€œLooks like he wants you go somewhere,” said the manager, still stroking her expired pussy.
    â€œProbably to a bar.” Roland sighed. “I think this kitty has a drinking problem, two paws and only one mouth.”
    â€œYou are the one who had eight Rum Runners last night.” Stinky’s voice now sounded condescending as he tugged Roland’s pants with greater insistence “And a shot of tequila.”
    â€œI think you better follow him before he shreds your pants.” The manager smiled.
    Roland returned her smile and turned toward the white picket gate that led to Duval Street. On Duval Street he turned left heading for Hemingway House, following the route on the tourist map he had perused when he had checked in days ago. He felt a tug on his pants leg in the opposite direction.
    â€œWhat is it, Lassie?” Roland turned to Stinky, “Has Aunt Polly fallen in the well? Do you want me to follow?”
    Stinky mewed an affirmative.
    â€œOk, you crazy ass cat,” Roland said, “I guess Hemingway House can wait. Lead on McFluff.”
    Stinky led Roland on a twisting turning trail through the side streets of Key West. Finally they came to the entrance of a restaurant called Slippery Sue’s, where a large sign, shaped like a mermaid, and a bill of fare on the door advertised sushi.
    â€œSo that’s it, you want me to buy you lunch. I should have known. I figured you for the kind of cat that would just