by Patricia Fry
At that, Lily dropped the leash and took Michael’s hand, happily trotting alongside him toward the dining room.
Iris chuckled. “Wow! That was interesting to watch. You should have been a politician, Michael.”
He turned and grinned at her briefly, then continued out of the room with the child.
“Is Maggie expecting us?” Iris asked a few minutes later when they pulled into her driveway, which was on the property adjacent to Savannah’s and Michael’s.
“Yes. And she wants to go with us to the other shelters. Hi, Auntie,” Savannah called when she saw Margaret step out of the cattery to greet them.
“I see you have the…” Margaret started, when she saw Savannah open the back of the SUV and let Rags out.
Before her aunt could finish the sentence, Savannah scolded, “Never mind.”
Margaret chuckled, then stooped down to greet the lanky cat. She scratched his neck on both sides. “Good morning, old boy. Come to scrutinize the kitties, huh? Well, come on, then,” she said, leading the women and the cat inside the cattery.
“You have quite a few adults, don’t you?” Savannah noticed, looking at the array of cats in large pens.
Iris gazed around the room, too. “Gosh, I don’t know why any of them would want to leave here. This is pretty nice, Maggie. You and Max sure make things comfortable for them. Look at that, they have little beds, toys, snacks, and I love the climbing contraptions.”
“I know, right?” Savannah said. She winked at Iris. “Some don’t leave.” She asked her aunt, “How many cats have you and Max kept this year?”
“None. Zero. Nada.” Margaret announced. She winced. “Although there were some I would have kept in a heartbeat.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“They were adopted, that’s why. Our goal is to find good homes for the cats that come to us. And,” she said, looking at Iris, “with that in mind, here are two senior cats who…”
Iris recoiled. “Senior cats? How old are they? I don’t want a cat that’s going to keel over after climbing the stairs once or twice, or drop dead in a guest’s room.”
Margaret pointed. “Well, Sophie, there, is probably ten and Tami’s almost ten.”
“How long do cats live, anyway?”
“It’s interesting you would ask, Iris.” Margaret smacked her lips. “I just did some research on that because I knew the statistics had changed in recent years. A cat’s average life expectancy, even in the eighties and nineties, was only four to six years. The most reliable sources now say it’s fifteen years and that includes all cats—feral and pampered. The average for a totally indoor cat is almost seventeen years. But Iris, cats have been known to live into their twenties and a few even into their thirties.”
“Really?” Savannah said, wide-eyed. “Thirties?”
Margaret chuckled. “Yeah, how would you like to be saddled with that cat of yours for another twenty years?”
“So ten isn’t really all that old for a cat?” Iris asked.
“No, and you’re more likely to get a settled and calm cat if you consider one in that age range, well past the kitten stage.”
“But some cats are more relaxed around people and commotion than others,” Savannah explained. “They all come with different personalities, characteristics, and temperaments.”
Iris gazed at the dozen or so cats in the pens. “Like people, I guess. Well, let me take a look at this one,” she said, crouching near a pen housing a petite long-haired cat. “You say her name’s Sophie? She has a coat of many colors.”
“Sophie’s a calico. Striking, isn’t she?”
“Yes,” Iris said. She caught herself before toppling over. “Rags, be careful.” She laughed, running her hand over his fur as he rubbed against her. “Oh, you like this one, do you?” She glanced up at the other women. “Look, he’s trying to reach in and touch her. I think she likes him, too. She’s kissing him through the wire. Awww. Isn’t that cute?” She stood up. “Savannah, do you think Rags likes Sophie? Does he want me to pick her?”
Savannah shrugged. “Go inside there and interact with her, Iris. See what you think.”
“Can I?” She looked at both women. “You may not believe this, but I’ve never in my life picked out a cat. Oh, I’ve had cats, but they’ve come to me…well, like Tommy, the adorable, sweet kitty you found for us in Big Sur, Savannah.” After stepping into the pen and interacting with the calico for a few minutes, Iris remarked, “She’s really sweet.” She looked at Rags, who lay watching the cat with interest. “What do you guys think?”
Margaret smiled at Sophie. “She’s been a dream…no kidding. She seems to take everything in her stride. We had to bathe her when she arrived. She was dirty and full of stickers. She even allowed that without much fuss. We have a lot of people in and out of here and that doesn’t bother her; in fact, she seems to enjoy the activity and attention. I’d say that what you see is what you get—this is the Sophie we’ve observed since she’s been here: quiet, calm, and rather affectionate. We’ve only had her for a few weeks.”
“What’s her story?” Savannah asked.
“She lived in a senior home with one of the residents and evidently had the run of the place, so she’s used to people, even walkers and wheelchairs. But when Mrs. Evans died, the manager of the home decided not to keep her.” Margaret grinned sheepishly. “In fact, we are considering adopting her if someone didn’t come along within the next few days because she is such a sweet thing.”
“So why did you have to bathe her?” Savannah asked. “How did she get full of stickers if she was living in a senior home?”
“Oh,” Margaret said, laughing a little, “evidently, Sophie’s owner’s daughter took her to her ranch after her mother died and turned her loose with their barn cats. Her husband is the one who pointed out that this cat was not barn-cat material. He insisted his wife take her to a shelter thinking that she could be adopted by another elderly person.”
Iris thinned her lips. “Okay. Now if I take her and there’s a problem, is she returnable?”
“Absolutely,” Max said as he walked into the room.
“Hi, Max,” Iris greeted from inside Sophie’s pen.
Savannah gave him a quick hug.
With surprise in his tone, Max asked, “Iris, are you in the market for a cat?”
“Yes, for the bed-and-breakfast. We want to provide cats as a comfort and a perk for guests, but we need really gentle, friendly ones.”
He reached into the pen and picked up Sophie. “This one should work out well for you, Iris. She’s a good choice.” He looked the cat in the eyes. “And I think she’d enjoy being a working cat, as long as it involves people and other cats.” He glanced at Iris. “You will have other cats there, right?”
“Yes.” Iris stepped out of the pen, reached up, and smoothed the fur on Sophie’s head. “And she’s gorgeous. Oh no!”
“What?” Margaret asked, frowning.
“What if someone walks off with her? I never thought about that, but it could happen, couldn’t it?”
“Iris, just give everyone our card,” Margaret said. “If they want a cat, they can come here and pick out their own.” She shook her head. “No, I don’t think you’ll have that problem.”
“What provisions have you made for the cats at the inn?” Max asked, stroking the calico he still held in his arms.
“The attic room will be their hangout. We’re in the process of filling it with comfy beds, toys, litter boxes, and climbing things. During the day, they’ll also have access to an outside room, where they can get fresh air and a change of scenery. That’s under construction as we speak,” Iris explained.
Savannah put her hand on Max’s arm. “And guests can invite cats into their room at night if they want to.”
“Will they have a keeper?” he asked. “You’ll need someone in charge—someone who knows and understands and loves cats—so they have consistent care. It’s not easy maintaining a flock of cats. They n
eed someone who’s dedicated to the task.”
“Oh yes, we’ll have a cat person.” Iris chuckled. “Don’t worry, Max, it’s not me. I just volunteered to audition cats because I knew Maggie and Savannah would help me.”
Max seemed to relax some.
“I choose Sophie,” Iris said, smiling. She reached out and petted her again. “She’s really lovely.”
“Are there any health issues?” Savannah asked.
Iris raised her eyebrows. “Wow, good question.”
“According to your husband, Vannie, she’s perfectly healthy.” Margaret watched as Max moved to deposit the calico back into her pen.
“Uh-oh,” he said when he noticed that the pen was already occupied. “Rags, what are you doing in there?” He turned to Savannah. “Okay if I leave him in there?”
She nodded.
“So how do you want to do this?” Margaret asked.
Iris turned to Savannah for guidance. “That’s a good question, too. I don’t want to take her out to the place where she’d be living all by herself. We need to coordinate somehow.”
“Why don’t we leave her here,” Savannah suggested, “where she’s obviously contented, and we’ll continue our kitty search. Once we’ve found two or three potential cuddle cats, you should probably bring the cat-tender in and deliver all of the cats to the inn at once.”
“Cuddle cats,” Iris repeated. “I love that term. Yes, that’s a good idea.”
“Iris,” Savannah asked, “are Mavis and her friend staying out at the inn now, or are they still at her mother’s house?”
“They haven’t moved in yet. They will soon. So, what are you thinking?”
“Once they’ve moved in, you could probably start taking the cats over there. They both like cats, right?”
Iris nodded. “Yes, Mavis has a cat and they may bring Melody’s three cats with them, only I don’t know if they plan to use them as…um…cuddle cats or if they’ll keep them in their apartment.” She took a breath. “I think the gals are still out of town, actually. So it may be a week or so before they make the move.”
“I hope they keep Bonnie as a pet,” Savannah said. When Iris looked confused, she explained, “She’s the little sick black one. Remember, we went over and gave her medication when Melody was in the hospital?”
Suddenly, Margaret called out to the others. “Look, Rags is giving his stamp of approval on your choice, Iris.”
When the others looked toward Sophie’s pen, they saw Rags lying next to the calico on top of her cat tree and Sophie was licking his cheek.
“Yes, that’s an endorsement if I ever saw one,” Iris said, laughing. She leaned down and spoke to Sophie. “Okay, girl, you have a new home.”
****
“So how did Iris’s cat quest go?” Michael asked Savannah later that evening after dinner.
“Marvelous. We found three good prospects, all unwanted or homeless kitties who are older and seem to be adaptable and agreeable.” She laughed. “One little black-and-white boy named Oscar spent most of his life in a chaotic household with three elderly sisters and their variety of dogs, cats, and even a potbelly pig.”
“What happened to his home?” Michael asked.
“One of the sisters died and the others went to a nursing home. Friends and neighbors had to place the animals rather quickly. Betty, from the cat alliance, knew the old gals and she volunteered to house a couple of the cats. That’s where we found Oscar.”
“Is Iris going to take the cat your aunt has at her place—Sophie?”
“Yes. She thought about taking the little tabby, Tami, too, but Rags only had eyes for Sophie. He did help her choose a charming part-ragdoll male we met at the main shelter on the outskirts of town. We walked Rags all around the place and he kept leading us back to Sparky.”
“Sparky, huh?”
“Yes. He was displaced when his owners divorced. I guess he’s used to kids. He’ll make a great overnight cat for families with children.”
Michael reached down and petted Rags as he walked past. “Good job, boy.” He looked at Savannah suspiciously. “So do you think he actually picked out the cats based on their personality and demeanor?”
“I don’t know. Who really knows what that cat’s thinking?” Savannah leaned forward. “But Michael, I can tell you he seemed drawn to the cats that were considered to be calm. Now, was it because he sensed that was the sort of cat we were looking for, or is it his personality?”
Michael thought for a moment. “Maybe that’s who he is. I mean, look at the cats he’s made a connection with over the years. June’s cat Mazie Mae is docile. He sure seemed concerned about her when she showed up here that chilly night.”
She dabbed at her eyes. “Thinking about how he rescued her still makes me choke up.”
Michael squeezed her knee affectionately before saying, “Colbi’s cat Dolly seems pretty passive, doesn’t she?”
“Yeah, I guess. But, what about Sunbeam?” Savannah said. “Rags and Sunbeam caused a lot of trouble around this neighborhood a few months ago.” She faced him as they relaxed on the sofa. “And Arthur’s Siamese cat, Koko. She has as much energy and curiosity as Rags does. No, he’s not always attracted to calm kitties.”
Michael looked at Buffy, who was asleep in one of her pink canopy beds. “I guess you’re right. He doesn’t seem to have a special affinity for Buffy, and she’s about as calm as they come.” He straightened. “Hey, she’d probably make a good cat for the bed-and-breakfast.”
“Buffy? What are you saying, Michael? No way would I give her away. I love our Buffy.”
He smiled. “I know you do. You’ve had a soft spot for Buffy since the day you first met her.”
“Yeah, when you were kitty-sitting for your neighbor who traveled a lot. You started doing that quite a while before we began dating.”
He took her hand. “And you’d come over to my place just to see her.”
Savannah grinned impishly. “Pretty much.”
“Hey, speaking of Koko,” Michael said, “which you were a while ago, when is the big wedding we’re going to in San Francisco?”
“October fifteenth.”
“We have a busy few months ahead, don’t we?”
Savannah pursed her lips. “Sure do. I need to go shopping for two new dresses.”
“Two? Won’t one do?”
“Michael, some of the same people will attend both the open house and the wedding.”
He raised his hands up as if in horror. “Oh no,” he over-dramatized, “we can’t be seen wearing the same thing twice. We’d better clean out our closets and replace all of those things we’ve worn in public. It would be a sin to wear perfectly good clothes more than once! What if the mailman sees you in it, or—heaven forbid—the grocery-store clerk?”
“Oh Michael, stop it. You know what I mean.” She scooped up their toddler as the child approached carrying her favorite doll. “So, Lily, did you take the wow-wow for a walk today?”
“Daddy, me, walk wow-wow,” she said.
Savannah turned to Michael. “How did that go?”
He chuckled. “Slow and painful.” When she looked confused, he explained, “Well, our daughter has a mind of her own and it took a lot of haggling and bribery to get her to cooperate.”
“Welcome to my world,” Savannah said, grinning. More seriously, she asked, “So what was the problem?”
He scratched his head. “Oh let’s see, where to begin…”
“My phone,” Savannah said, heading for the buffet where it was charging. “Hi Iris,” she said into the phone. “How’s the cat queen?”
“Okay. I just hope I made the right choices.”
“You aren’t having buyer’s remorse, are you?”
“No. Not really, I guess. But I would like to bring them all together so they can get used to each other and the inn before the open house. What do you think?”
“Good idea,” Savannah agreed. “What do yo
u have in mind?”
“I was wondering if you could help me transport them and get them settled. The workers promise the outdoor pen will be ready for them by tomorrow. I want to wait until all that pounding has stopped. I refuse to subject my sweet, calm cats to a lot of noise right off the bat.”
“Good thinking, Iris. Have you hired a cat keeper?”
“Oh yes. Mavis called me with the gal’s information and I contacted her. Mavis and Michelle are traveling this week, you know. The cat gal’s name is Francine and she’s ready to start getting to know her menagerie.”
“Who is she?” Savannah asked. “What’s her background?”
Iris chuckled. “Maybe I should invite Rags over to finish the interview with Francine.” When Savannah laughed, Iris said, “Actually, I’m at least halfway serious. Do you think he’d recognize any flaws or red flags with this woman? I don’t want to make any mistakes in my hirings.”
“Sure, I can bring him over. When will she start?”
“As soon as we have cats for her to manage.” After hesitating, Iris suggested, “I’d like to pick them up day after tomorrow. That will give the work crew an extra day to finish the outdoor room.” She snickered. “Or catio, as you call it.”
“They work on Sunday?”
“Yes. I told them this is an emergency and Mavis agreed to pay the crew overtime wages,” Iris explained.
“Where is the room?” Savannah asked. “I can’t visualize it: you say it leads from the attic?”
“Yes.” Iris sounded almost giddy. “There are kitty stairs from the attic down the outside of the house and into the terrarium-type room, where the cats can enjoy rays of sunshine and fresh air. I don’t know much about cats, Savannah, but I do notice that our Tommy loves stretching out where the sun shines into the living room every morning, and he enjoys sitting at an open window on a nice day, or even a rainy day.”
“The cat stairs are on the outside of the house?” Savannah asked.
“Well, the stairs are covered; you know, enclosed with a clear hard plastic material so we can keep track of the cats even when they’re traveling to and from.”
“Oh, I get it. Yeah, the cats will love it. Hey,” Savannah said, “want to bring your cat gal by here tomorrow to meet Rags? Or I should say, so Rags can scrutinize her?”
