The Arsonist Who Loved Catnip, pt 5, What Was I Thinking?

If you haven't been reading here long, may I offer, kindly, the suggestion that you get caught up on Comrade Muffy's story line via the following links?

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Without these pieces of the story, this finale will make very little sense. Frankly, it may not make much sense anyway, but I want to get it done, and there's a medium-sized grey tabby holding a pistol on me until I finish, so . . .
*****

"We are all of equal value in this cause, and we have all suffered grave indignities from the human class." Comrade Muffy had assumed the posture and vocal delivery of a great orator or a general prepared to lead her warriors into battle. She paced back and forth before them. "It is with that spirit in mind that I ask all of you--any ideas how to get in?"

Boo-Boo Kittie was inconsolable. "I can't believe you forgot the dynamite!" she puled. "Why couldn't you remember that one itsy bitsy thing!"

"It was your responsibility, remember?"

"Stop being so mean, Cyclops!" Boo-Boo snuffled.

Fonzie offered, "I could chop the door down with my lethal combination of karate, jujitsu, and the powerful will of the warrior!" She leaped into the air, slicing and flailing with all four limbs at once, demonstrating her proposal--before landing solidly on her right ear.

"Wow," remarked Cyclops, "Agile AND goofy. The humans will be begging for mercy in no time."

Cat was muttering softly to himself--no doubt in some ancient dialect of a forgotten sagely race. "General Mooshoo goo tso gai pan chow mein with extra noodles and soup of your choice. Wonton, egg drop, hot and sour." His heavy-lidded eyes opened wide, and he turned gravely to Muffy. "A journey of a thousand miles begins with lost luggage," he said.

"I don't think that's gonna help us," Comrade Muffy answered. "Have anything about open doors?"

"Open doors," began Cat--

"--Are caused by beautiful ka-booms!" finished Boo-Boo Kittie. "Why do we have no explosives?! I'd settle for an M-80, a firecracker, anything!"
-----

The signature yowling of a young Siamese cat pining for an explosion is not quickly forgotten. It may even be recognized by a seasoned fire investigator in pursuit of a dangerous mob of angry felines with pyromaniac tendencies. The fact that the Bertrams had simply moved next door to their old house made the trail that much easier to follow.
-----

"--Or we could simply scratch at the door and wait to be let in," instructed Cyclops, demonstrating.

"That's enough, Muffy," Ferno said sternly, drawing his weapon from his shoulder holster and taking aim. "Put 'em up!"

Boo-Boo and Cat hoisted their forepaws, chins dropping suddenly to the ground.

The door of the Bertram's house opened.

"Ya' gonna shoot me with that carrot?" asked Comrade Muffy, for indeed, Ian Ferno had of late taken to sticking a few extra carrots into his holster for a snack, and was attempting to make an arrest at carrot-point.

Virgil, the Bertram's pug, ambled out onto the porch. There was a soft hissing sound, and the air was filled with a tremendous stench.

All heads turned to look at Fonzie.

"Sorry! Dogs make me nervous, and when I get nervous I spray!"

"A skunk!" said Cyclops, wrinkling his scarred nose, "I shoulda' known! The white stripes were a dead giveaway."

Meanwhile, Muffy had managed to lift her paw and aim her tiny pistol at Inspector Ferno.

"Goodbye, annoying human!" she snarled, and pulled the trigger.

"Click. Click-click-click."

"Bang!"

Muffy lay on the grass, mortally wounded.

"That's right, Muffy," said Virgil, strolling over to her, "Your pistol was only a single-shot model, and you never re-loaded. I had to take you down before you figured that out. I'm sorry."

Ferno looked hard at the pug's front paws. Like Muffy, Virgil also had thumbs--and a small revolver!

". . . of course, I never really liked you, but that's immaterial to this. Inspector Ferno, it was nice of you to stop by. I don't think HISS! will give you anymore trouble with Muffy gone."

"I imagine you're right, Virgil."

"Now, if you'll excuse me, with these new thumbs, I've developed a bit of an addiction to the TV remote. Time to scratch that itch." The dog disappeared into the house.

"Well," said Inspector Ferno nonchalantly, "Time to go home and bathe in tomato juice."