For Your Paws Only by Heather Vogel Frederick Page B

led them down, down, down into the bowels of the enormous train station. The air soon grew close and warm, filled with the familiar, comforting scent of sewer water. Lulu and Louie breathed a sigh of relief. It was almost like home.
    â€œHere we are,” announced Dupont, stepping out of the pipe into the large side chamber of a sewer main. Dim light filtered down from somewhere far above, and the steady dripping of water echoed through the dark, dank space. The rats looked around to find that they were no longer alone.
    â€œRoquefort! You made it! We were getting worried.” A beefy rat stepped forward and slapped Dupont heartily on the back. “Good to see ya!”
    â€œUncle Mozzie, you old sewer crawler, you!” growled Dupont, baring his sharp yellow fangs in a smile. “How’s Aunt Parmesan?”
    â€œFeisty as ever. She sends her love. Says come over for some pasta if you’ve got time. There’s this new restaurant down the street—you should see the stuff they throw out!”
    â€œFor that, I’ll make the time,” replied Dupont. He turned to his aides. “This here’s my Uncle Mozzarella Canal, from right here in the Big Apple. Little Italy, to be exact. Best Dumpster diving in all of Manhattan—if you like Italian food, that is.”
    As Scurvy and Gnaw exchanged greetings with Dupont’s uncle, another rat stepped forward. A very attractive female rat.
    â€œRoquefort, mon cher, how delightful eet eez to see you again!” she murmured.
    As Dupont’s aides watched, their beady red eyes popping in amazement, the sleek rat leaned forward and kissed their boss on both cheeks. Was Roquefort Dupont—Lord of the Sewers and supreme leader of Washington’s rat underworld—actually blushing ?
    â€œThe pleasure is all mine, Brie,” said Dupont, taking one of her paws in his own and bending over it gallantly to bestow his own kiss in return. He turned to his speechless aides. “May I present Brie de Sorbonne, my cousin from Paris.”
    Brie inclined her head regally at Scurvy and Gnaw, who managed to stutter a greeting. Then she leaned down for a closer look at the twins. “Why, how utterly charmant !” she cried, cradling their furry little faces inher paws. “Roquefort, you never told me zat you were a father!”
    Lulu and Louie’s eyes grew round with astonishment, and Dupont turned a brighter shade of red. “Uh, well, no, I’m not—I mean, I’ve never—they’re not mine, Brie. Just rats-in-waiting.”
    Brie gave him a sly smile. “Aha. So, mon cousin, zee fact is, you are still—how you say—available?”
    By now, Dupont was scarlet from the tip of his ugly snout to the tip of his ugly tail. Before he could speak again, however, a big rat with a powerful set of shoulders thrust himself between him and Brie. “Enough of the pleasantries,” he said rudely. “Time to get down to business.”
    Dupont’s upper lip curled, and he sniffed the air disdainfully. “Stilton Piccadilly,” he snarled. “I thought I smelled you. Since when do you call the shots around here?”
    â€œJust because you called this meeting doesn’t mean you get to run the show,” Piccadilly retorted. “We’re not your servants. Besides,” he continued, “I didn’t fly all the way from London for chitchat. We’ve got work to do.”
    Turning his back insolently on the British rat, Dupont surveyed the others. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I need breakfast first,” he said. “We can hardly be expected to conduct business on an empty stomach. How about it, rodents? Brie, a little petit dejeuner ? Andyou there, Muenster—had anything to eat yet today?”
    Muenster Alexanderplatz, a coal-black rat with a puckered scar alongside his snout, shook his head. “ Nein, ” he replied, his stomach chiming