Chapter 6

“Whoa, bub! We’re not at home. You get off of there.”

Mr. Magee looked sadly at Cam then slunk off the sofa onto the floor. There he sat in front of the man, head hanging down, giving the impression of total dejection.

Cam put his hands on his hips, shook his head, and said, “You are a piece of work, you ole hound dog. You could make a saint feel guilty.”

Mr. Magee looked up, his tail thumping the floor.

In the corner of the room Cam saw a folded fleece throw hung over the arm of a rocking chair. He retrieved the throw and spread it out on the couch to protect the leather from Mr. Magee’s toenails.

“Okay, you win, as usual,” Cam said as he patted the now-covered leather.

Mr. Magee jumped up, and without so much as a thank you, yawned and curled up, his head resting on the arm of the sofa.