Patricia Fry - Klepto Cat 05 - The Colony Cat Caper Read online

  In the meantime, Ida took the chenille cat from her tote bag and pressed the sides.

  “Meow, meow.”

  “Will the special meeting of the Hammond Cat Alliance please come to order,” she said.

  As usual, several people chuckled and commented about the unconventional gavel substitute.

  Just then Beth, one of the guests, said, “Oh looky. Isn’t it darling?”

  Everyone strained in the direction she pointed in time to see Dolly making an entrance. She walked into the room in a crouch, her eyes wide and her ears moving in all directions like antennae.

  “Oh, how cute,” Ida remarked. She leaned toward the kitten and said, “Did you hear Meowster?” She picked up the stuffed cat and squeezed it again.

  Dolly stopped, sat tall and tilted her head to one side, then the other.

  Ida set the toy cat on the floor and Dolly walked cautiously toward it. Once the little tabby was finished checking the stuffed cat out from top to bottom, she turned, glanced around at the people in the room, and trotted over to Colbi, who was sitting on the sofa with two other women. Colbi picked Dolly up and the kitten settled on her lap.

  Iris reached over and ruffled the kitten’s fur. “Hi there, Dolly,” she said, winking at Colbi.

  Colbi smiled; Dolly began to purr.

  After an hour, during which members and guests voiced their questions and concerns and shared their successes with the various cat colonies, the meeting broke for refreshments.

  “Feels good to get up and stretch,” Savannah said to Iris as they walked arm-in-arm toward the refreshment table.

  “Are you feeling okay?” Iris asked.

  “Yeah, just tired and ready to get unpregnant.”

  “Yeah, I remember the feeling. The last few weeks are the worst—wait, wait, and wait some more.”

  “Oh, don’t tell me that. I thought I was almost to the finish line.”

  “Oh no. Enjoy the moment, girl. After you have the baby, your life will never be the same again.” Iris, who stood only half-inch taller than Savannah’s five-nine-and-a-half stature, looked her in the eyes and said, “Are you sure you want to go through with this? You know that sweet thing inside you will one day be a teenager.”

  Savannah sighed. Just then she spotted little Dolly lying on the back of the sofa watching everyone. Savannah couldn’t resist. She walked over, picked her up, and snuggled with her for a few minutes.

  “That’s a cute one,” Camille said, reaching up and running her fingers over one of Dolly’s ears. “How old is it?”

  “She’s about three months old now,” Savannah said. “Yes, she’s a beauty. She was a stray, you know.”

  Camille’s eyes grew large. “Really! Looks like a pampered house cat to me,” she said.

  The kitten began to squirm and Savannah bent down to let her go. Off she ran like a shot, up one chair and down the next. She and Camille watched and laughed.

  “Shall we get some refreshments?” Savannah suggested.

  Just as the two women reached the refreshment table, they heard, “No, no, Kitty. Give it back.”

  Within a few moments, laughter rang throughout the room.

  Savannah looked over and saw Betty holding the kitten and trying to get her to spit out a business card.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” Colbi said, rushing toward Betty. “Did she sneak that out of your purse?” She reached over and attempted to take the card from the kitten. Dolly let go and the card floated to the floor. Colbi bent down and picked it up, handing it to Betty. “She loves paper,” Colbi said. “I call her my little shredder. She steals business cards, sticky notes, letters…”

  “That’s funny,” Ida commented. “A cat who likes paper belonging to a writer.”

  “Yeah, not so funny. She’ll chew on my manuscripts and research material if I leave it lying around. Once I caught her with a dollar bill,” Colbi said. “Oh, and if I’m expecting a fax, I have to guard the machine. She loves to retrieve faxes.”

  “What does she do with them,” Betty asked, “deliver them to you?”

  “I wish,” Colbi said. “Oh no, she shreds them.”

  Everyone laughed.

  The conversation in the room was lively with comments about Dolly’s paper habit and stories of other cats. Camille, who was still standing near Savannah, asked, “Isn’t that kind of odd that a cat would eat paper? Does this mean it has a deficiency of some kind?”

  “Not necessarily,” Savannah responded between bites of her oatmeal-raisin cookie. “I don’t think she’s eating it—she just likes playing with paper and pulling it apart—although sometimes cats with deficiencies will be drawn to paper, cloth, leather and other things. But generally it is out of boredom or just something they find amusing. As you probably know, all cats are different.”

  “How do you know so much about cats?” Camille asked.

  Before Savannah could respond, Iris said, “She’s a veterinarian—owns Ivey Veterinary Clinic!”

  Camille made eye contact with Savannah. “Oh really?”

  “Yes, with my husband, who’s also a veterinarian,” Savannah said. She rubbed her baby bump. “I’m out on maternity leave right now.”

  “I like your shoes,” Iris said, addressing Camille once they were all seated again.

  “Thanks,” she said rather shyly.

  “Are they Jennifer Lopez?”

  “Uh,” she said looking down at her dressy sandals, “I don’t really know. Maybe.”

  “So do you think you’ll take on a cat colony?” Margaret asked Camille.

  “Um, yeah, well, it depends on my schedule. I…just…well, I sorta came just out of curiosity tonight. Want to find out more about it.” She pointed to Savannah and Margaret and asked, “Now where do you two feed cats?”

  “At the Fischer building,” Savannah answered.

  “Oh yeah, that’s what I read in the paper.” She looked from one to the other and asked, “So aren’t you trespassing there?”

  “No,” Margaret said. “We got permission from the owner to manage the cats on that property.”

  Camille sat straight in her chair, stared solemnly at the two women, and asked, “How is that possible?” When she saw the confused look on their faces, she said, “I mean, isn’t he sick or something?”

  “You mean Mr. Fischer?” Margaret asked. “Yes, but his lawyer has power of attorney and he gave us permission on the owner’s behalf.”

  Camille frowned and looked down at her hands. “Oh, that’s how it works, huh?” It was as if she had withdrawn into her own world when she said, “Interesting.”

  Savannah, Iris, and Margaret volunteered to stay after everyone else had left, to help Colbi clean up. “Did that Camille woman sign up for anything?” Margaret asked.

  “No, I don’t think so,” Colbi said. “I was in charge of the sign-up sheet and I didn’t notice her coming anywhere near it. She was kind of odd, don’t you think?”

  “Yes,” Margaret agreed.

  Iris said, “She didn’t even know what brand of shoes she was wearing. Must have found them at a secondhand store.” She chuckled, “I brazenly asked her where she buys her shoes because I noticed she has large feet like I do.”

  “Me, too,” Savannah said. “Where does she get them?”

  “Thrift stores and on the Internet,” Iris said. “Well, you know I frequent thrift stores and consignment shops. That’s the only way I can afford these nice duds I wear.” She ran her hand over her Donna Karan sweater.

  “Uh-oh,” Colbi said as she stooped to pick up something off the floor. “Whose is this?”

  “What?” Margaret asked while folding one of the chairs and leaning it against a wall.

  “A photograph.” Colbi stood up and grimaced. “…with little pointy teeth marks around the edges. Dollllyyyyy,” she called.

  Just then everyone heard a faint, “Mew.” They looked toward the sound and saw Dolly sitting halfway up the staircase staring down at everyone.

  “Oh
, you think you’re too cute to punish, don’t you?” Colbi said. She started to laugh. “Well, dang it, you are!”

  “So who is it a picture of?” Iris asked.

  “I don’t know him. Do any of you?”

  She passed the photo to Iris; Margaret and Savannah stood beside her and studied it. When it was agreed that no one recognized the person in the image, Iris handed it back to Colbi. She looked down at it. “Well, I’ll just hold onto it until our next meeting, I guess.” She then turned to Savannah and asked, “So how can I break her of this habit your cat obviously taught her?”

  Savannah laughed. “Hey, don’t blame Rags. He takes everything and anything, not just paper.”

  Margaret chimed in, “And obviously, the Iveys can’t control their cat. He’s still a burglar—big time,” she said with a chuckle. “What did you tell me he took the other day, Vannie?”

  She thought for a moment and then said, “Well, he won’t keep his paws off the baby’s things. We keep finding rubber duckies, booties and things in his stash.”

  “Maybe he’s trying to tell you something,” Iris offered.

  “What?” Margaret asked. “To change their minds about having the baby?”

  “Or he wants you to move the baby up to his room,” Colbi suggested. She then looked down at the photo and walked over to place it on the divider between the kitchen and dining room.

  “Wait,” Iris said. “Let me see that again, would you?” She took the photo, stared down at it and then said, “I think I’ve seen this guy in the diner.” She studied the picture. “Only he was older than this. This fellow looks to be about twenty-five, wouldn’t you say? The man I’ve seen is more like forty…maybe this guy’s dad. I’ll check him out good next time I see him.” She handed the photo back to Colbi and said, “Sorry to bail on you all—gotta get up early tomorrow.” She grabbed her coat and purse and waved at the others as she stepped toward the front door.

  About twenty minutes later, Savannah arrived home. As she greeted her husband and Lexie, who rarely missed a homecoming, her cell phone rang. She looked at the screen and answered it saying, “Hi Iris, what’s up?”

  “Well, I thought you’d be interested in this.”

  “What?” Savannah asked looking puzzled.

  “I was on my way home when I see this woman walking along the road. Come to find out, it’s Camille.”

  “Camille?” Savannah said with a yawn.

  “Wake up, Savannah…” she laughed. “Camille from the meeting tonight.”

  “Oh yeah. Wow. Walking? Did her car break down or something?”

  “Well, I stopped and asked that. But no. She said she walks everywhere. She was walking home. Of course, I offered her a ride. She said no at first, but finally agreed. I mean it’s cold out there and she was just wearing an unlined twill jacket.”

  “So how far away from there does she live?”

  “That’s what I thought was so strange. She wanted me to drop her near the industrial park—you know, at that housing tract out there.”

  “Oh, that’s a bit of a walk and in those platform sandals—wow.”

  “Well, no, she was wearing sport shoes. …had her sandals in that big purse she carried.”

  “Still a long walk.”

  “Yeah, but it gets more strange,” Iris said. “She wanted me to drop her outside the tract. I insisted on taking her right to her door. I wasn’t going to leave her out in the boonies like that—a woman alone. Finally she agreed and directed me to an address on Quail Street. She got out and, as I always do when I drive someone home at night, I watched to make sure she got inside okay.”

  “Sure—common courtesy,” Savannah said.

  “Well, she walked toward the house and then turned and waved. I sat in the car and waved—waiting for her to go on in. And I waited and waited. She motioned for me to go on. I waited some more. Finally, she sat down on the porch.”

  “She sat on the porch?”

  “Yes, she just sat there and motioned for me to go.”

  “So what did you do?”

  “Hell, I have to get up early tomorrow morning. I have the morning shift. I left.”

  “And she was still sitting there?” Savannah asked.

  “Yup. Who does that?”

  “Wow, I don’t know. Seems odd. That was nice of you to drive her home, though—if that even was her home,” Savannah said with a laugh.

  “That’s what I was thinking. But why in the world wouldn’t she want me to know where she lives? Does she think I’m a stalker or something?”

  “Hard to tell. You were fawning over her clothes,” Savannah said with a laugh.

  “Those were cute shoes—looked good with her black leggings,” Iris said.

  “Well, I don’t think we’ll see her again,” Savannah predicted.

  “Why?”

  “She just didn’t seem into cats, that’s all.” Savannah didn’t wait for a response. Instead she said, “Hey, night-night time for me. Been a long day and Adam’s here this weekend. I’m going to bed.”

  After ending the call, Savannah looked over at her husband, who had been reading a Kindle book. “So, is our favorite guest here all tucked in safe and sound?”

  Michael smiled. “Yup. We had a nice visit driving home. Stopped for an ice cream. He told me all about his basketball practice. He’s an enthusiastic sportsman.” He turned off the Kindle, stood, and walked over to Savannah. “He was ready for bed by nine. I think Rags went up to keep him company.” He put one arm around Savannah and his other hand on her baby bulge. “Are you two ready for bed?”

  “We sure are,” Savannah said with a yawn.

  “So what was so odd about what Iris told you?” he asked as they walked into their bedroom together.

  “Oh, something this woman who came to our meeting did tonight.” Savannah stopped, thought for a minute, and then added, “Well, the more I think about her behavior, the more I wonder if she had a hidden agenda.”

  Chapter Five

  “Good morning, buddy,” Michael said when he saw Adam ambling down the stairs, still in his pjs, rubbing his eyes. Rags trotted along beside him. “Ready for breakfast?”

  “Yeah,” he said with a wide yawn.

  “Hey, didn’t you sleep well last night? You still seem sleepy.”

  “Well,” the barely nine-year-old said as he reached the ground floor and walked toward his father, “Rags woke me up and I wasn’t through sleeping.”

  “Did he want to play or what?”

  “Yeah, I guess. He was scratching me and pulling off my covers.”

  “Scratching you?” Michael asked.

  “No,” he said with a laugh, “scratching my covers off of me like this.” The boy made clawing motions in the air while scrunching up his face.

  Michael laughed. “Did he make a face like that, too?”

  Adam looked over at Rags and then at Michael. “No,” he said. “Cats can’t make faces.”

  Just then Rags, who was sitting a distance from Adam and Michael on the coffee table, opened his mouth and yawned widely. Both of them laughed out loud, and Adam said, “I guess cats can make faces.”

  “Who’s making faces?” Savannah asked as she walked into the room slowly, her hands rubbing the top of her bulging stomach.

  “Rags just made a face, when he yawned,” Adam said laughing. “Do it again Rags; show Savannah how you make faces,” he urged.

  After Adam’s coaxing didn’t work, Michael suggested, “Maybe if you yawn first, he’ll see you yawn and he might do it. Yawning is contagious, you know.”

  “Contagious? You mean like a cold?” he asked, looking confused.

  “Well, not quite like that,” Michael said with a chuckle. He looked over at Adam, who was staring at Rags and contorting his face, trying to mimic a yawn.

  Finally Adam asked, “How do you yawn when you don’t have to yawn?”

  “Easy,” Michael said. “Watch me.” He swallowed and then opened his mouth, took in a brea
th, and within a few seconds he yawned.

  “How did you do that?” Adam asked.

  “Just try it—open your mouth, suck in some air and…”

  Adam followed his dad’s instructions, and within a couple of minutes he yawned. “I did it, Dad. I yawned on purpose.” He looked over at Rags, who still sat staring back at the boy. He waited and watched. “Aww come on Rags, show Savannah how you yawn.” After a few minutes, the boy sat down on the edge of the ottoman and said, “I guess he’s not going to.”

  “Yeah,” Michael said. “He must be immune to the yawning disease.”

  Adam grinned at Michael. “You’re funny, Dad.”

  “You’re both silly,” Savannah said, smiling. “Come on, let’s have some breakfast and then how about we go on an adventure?” She glanced back at Adam and said, “I’m making cat-shaped pancakes.”

  “Yay,” Adam said excitedly as they headed toward the kitchen, Rags trotting along behind them.

  ***

  A couple of hours later, Michael pulled Savannah’s car alongside an expanse of chain-link fencing. “What is this place?” Adam asked.

  “It’s where we come to take care of some homeless cats,” Savannah explained.

  “Oh yeah, Dad told me about that,” he said, straining to see out the backseat window. “Where are they?”

  “What?” Michael asked.

  “The homeless cats.”

  “Inside the fence, under that big building.”

  The trio walked through the open gate and toward the crawl space.

  “There’s a cat,” Adam said. He stopped and looked up at Michael. “Hey, where’s he going?”

  “Into his den to be with his friends,” Michael said.

  “There are more cats under there?” he asked, leaning down to look into the crawl space.

  “There are about a dozen,” Savannah said.

  Adam was quiet for a minute and then he said, “That’s twelve.”

  “Yup.”

  “Wow. That’s a lot. Did you bring enough food?”

  “Hope so,” Michael said, unfolding three chairs and setting them up a distance from the building.