The Big Kitty

by Claire Donally

  He was crossing a street when he stopped, sniffing the air. It wasn’t food. Just for a second, he thought he caught a trace of Sunny.

  Sunny was gone. The Old One had tossed him out just like the trash lining these streets. Shadow had his pride—he knew where he wasn’t wanted. Best not even to think of it—

  A door on one of the buildings flew open, releasing a wail of noise into the street. Shadow flinched. The two-legs could be so loud sometimes!

  A whole array of smells billowed around him as the release of warm air dissipated. Then his whole snout wrinkled as he detected a particular odor. Was that the Stinky One?

  The Stinky One moved very quickly across the street. Shadow followed, curious. The scent grew stronger, and then he heard the familiar rumble of the Stinky One’s car.

  Shadow watched in satisfaction as the despised human hurriedly left. He took a victory lap around the space the car had vacated.

  Too bad I didn’t have a chance to let my claws hurry him along.

  That little moment of triumph was a mistake. When you wandered the streets, you always had to be wary, on guard against attack. But he was concentrating so much on the Stinky One, he ignored the second blast of noise, the pair of two-legs running into the street.

  They were arguing, he could tell that from their voices.

  But Shadow didn’t realize how close they were until the Fat One made loud, angry noises.

  He never saw the kick the Skinny One sent into his side.

  But he felt it as it sent him rolling into the gutter. He wanted to squall his fury, but even taking the breath hurt all over.

  Shadow lay there for a while until the first pain faded a little. Then he slowly, awkwardly got to his feet. Standing around hurt on the streets was an invitation to get attacked. He had to find somewhere to hide, somewhere safe—

  He inhaled deeply, trying not to mewl as the pain flared again. Was that another trace of Sunny?

  It seemed to be connected with the truck he lay under. Shadow went to the tires. They had new smells from things they’d rolled through. But beneath that, they smelled of Sunny’s Place—the place of the boxes!

  Painfully, he cast around the big vehicle. It was taller than her car. The doors and windows were high above him. And besides, they were closed.

  But this thing had the big flat part in the back. Shadow had visited it while exploring the place of boxes. Of course, it was much easier to get in there when there were piles of boxes to climb.

  Here he saw his only chance was to get onto the trunk of the car parked next to the truck. Shadow circled around the car, trying to ignore the new hurts his exertion brought to life. He spotted a couple of boxes leaned against a light pole nearby. One box was open, filled with rotting food. The other was closed. He could only hope it would take his weight—

  Shadow jumped, landed, and jumped again. For an instant, he thought he was going to fall back, his back claws scrabbling against the metal until he managed to pull himself forward.

  He made his way across the expanse of the car’s trunk. It sloped down to the right, his uninjured side. That was a good thing. Ahead of him rose the side of the truck, which still rose up higher than his vantage point. He still couldn’t see where he’d end up landing.

  Would he be able to make it? Shadow knew he’d only have one chance. Already he felt dizzy and sick.

  He backed up until his rear paws almost went off the trunk. Then Shadow ran forward, ignoring the pain screaming from his side. At the last moment, he launched himself, trying not to think of the hard concrete flying by beneath him.

  Shadow barely cleared the truck’s side wall. But he was coming down into a place of safety—or so he hoped.

  He didn’t land well, stumbling instead of catching himself on all four feet.

  Red pain flashed all over him.

  Then everything turned black.

  *

  Nothing exciting happened when Sunny crossed back over the street to her dad’s pickup. No sniper fire, no garbage truck careening down the street to run her over.

  She started the engine and pulled out, feeling a little numb.

  All the way home, she keep looking in the rearview mirrors, trying to spot a tail.

  Of course, she had one. Will’s police cruiser rolled along behind her.

  I hope he’s looking behind him, she found herself thinking, then shook her head at such foolishness. If someone had been following her, seeing a police car on her trail would probably discourage them.

  The lights were still on when she arrived home. Her father was probably still up, watching the late news.

  Sunny pulled up in the driveway and got out to wave to Will.

  That was when she heard it—a low, mewling moan.

  The noise seemed to be coming from the truck bed.

  Instead of heading for the door around the front of the pickup, Sunny went to the rear and peeked in.

  A furry shape lay sprawled on the metal bed.

  “Shadow!” she cried.

  She had to climb halfway into the truck to get at the cat.

  Usually Shadow was totally aloof, a real “don’t touch me” cat. He darted away if Sunny so much as extended a hand to pet him.

  But now he just lay limply, blinking up at her in misery as she gently gathered him up in her arms.

  Will came hustling over to see what was going on.

  “You remember Shadow?” she said.

  He nodded. “From the scene of the crime.”

  Sunny probed the cat with careful fingers. Shadow gave another low moan when she touched his ribs.

  “He’s hurt!” she said, and then she turned to Will in real horror. “You don’t think that they—”

  “Can’t say.” He looked down at the huddled gray form in Sunny’s arms. “But this is really one of those times that I wish cats could talk.”

  14

  Sunny burst into her house, Shadow in her arms, Will Price at her heels.

  Her dad jumped up from the couch at the commotion. “Constable! What’s going on? Is everything all right?” Then he saw the cat. “Did she have you out looking for this mange-ball?”

  “Shadow’s hurt,” Sunny said. “We have to get him some help!”

  She turned on her heel, heading for the kitchen, then turned back. “Do we still have a yellow pages?”

  “In the cabinet,” Mike said, following after. “You’re not just going to put him on the table, are you?”

  “You’re right.” Sunny glanced over her shoulder at Will. “Bring a pillow from the couch.”

  Once Shadow had been arranged as comfortably as possible, Sunny attacked the directory. “Pet hospitals,” she muttered, flipping through pages.

  Tucking the receiver from the wall phone between her ear and her shoulder while holding a finger on the number she wanted, she punched on the keypad.

  On the other end, the phone rang four times. Then came a click, a moment of dead air, and a whirring sound with an obviously canned voice saying, “Thank you for calling the Kittery Harbor Pet Hospital. Our hours of operation are from eight thirty a.m. to four thirty p.m. Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday, and from ten a.m. to seven p.m. Tuesday and Thursday. Dr. Rigsdale and our staff offer a wide range of affordable patient care for small animals, large animals, and exotics—”

  Sunny hung up. “I’m getting their machine. Where are the white pages?”

  Silently Mike dug out the other phone book. “I know that look from her mother,” he muttered to Will. “That’s the ‘don’t argue with me’ look.”

  “Rigsdale—good. There’s only one in the book.” Sunny copied the address, picked up Shadow on his pillow, and headed back down the hall.

  “Aren’t you going to call?” Mike called after her.

  “And give this Rigsdale character warning that I’m coming?” Sunny almost snarled. “He’s not going to hide behind an answering machine this time.”

  Will could only shrug and follow her.

 
When Sunny went to place the pillow on the passenger side of the pickup, Shadow mewled piteously at her. “It’s okay, it’s okay, we’re going to get some help for you, just take it easy.” She clipped on her seat belt, then carefully set Shadow and his pillow on her lap.

  It was close to midnight by the time they got to the address. Will got out of his patrol car and came to her driver’s-side window, doing a double take at the sight of the cat in her lap.

  “Sunny, the place is dark,” he said, pointing out the obvious.

  “And this is an emergency,” she snapped. “I’ll carry the cat; you ring the bell.”

  Will muttered something about improper use of authority, but did what she said.

  “Lean on it,” Sunny said after Will rang the bell twice without getting any answer. “And if that doesn’t work, we’ll try your siren—wake up the whole neighborhood if we have to.”

  He leaned on the bell. A light came on in one of the upstairs windows, and then a head appeared, silhouetted against the light.

  “What the hell is it?” a woman’s sleep-fuzzed voice called down.

  “We’ve got a veterinary emergency down here,” Sunny said. “Don’t we, Constable Price?”

  “Constable Price?” The woman upstairs leaned out farther. “Will?”

  Will’s jaw dropped as he peered upward. “Jane?”

  A moment later, the woman was downstairs. Even in a bathrobe with bed hair, she was a blond knockout.

  Now it was Sunny’s turn to stare. “Jane Leister?”

  Jane had been the golden girl of her high school class: valedictorian, most pretty, most popular. While Sunny and most of the girls were killing themselves to get pimply-faced juniors to notice them, Jane was going out with a college guy.

  “I didn’t even know you were back in town,” Will said. From the look on his face, he and Jane had History with a capital H.

  “Yeah, well, I didn’t know you were, either,” Jane said. “And my name is Rigsdale now. My husband—ex-husband—we were partners in the practice. I got the hospital in the divorce, and I kept the married name since I’m known professionally as Dr. Rigsdale.”

  She glanced over at Sunny with a half-puzzled. “Don’t I know you?” kind of look.

  Sunny sighed and introduced herself. Jane nodded. “Oh, of course, we went to school together. You were on the yearbook, right?”

  No, and I wasn’t part of your fan club, either, that uncharitable part of Sunny’s mind silently answered.

  Just as well, because the vet made another connection. “You wrote the article in today’s Crier,” Jane said. “I’d like to talk to you a bit about what happened to Ada Spruance, and what they intend to do about her cats. But first, we’ve got business.”

  She turned to the cat in Sunny’s arms. “So this is the emergency patient? I warn you, I’ll do this once because you’re a friend of Will’s—”

  Jane broke off in surprise. “Hey, Shadow,” she said in a gentle voice. “Whatcha doin’ here?”

  Shadow stirred and meowed at her.

  “I thought you and all of Ada’s cats were with Animal Control.” Jane gently scratched the cat between the ears, talking to Shadow as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

  Sunny couldn’t help noticing that Shadow didn’t shy away from Jane’s fingers.

  Great—she’s also the most popular with cats, Sunny fumed.

  The vet turned to Sunny. “I gave all my medical files on Ada’s cats to the folks at the shelter to try and help get some adoptions set up. She probably spent more time and money taking care of her strays than she did for herself.” Jane smiled. “Guess I’ll have to get Shadow’s back.” She pointed over her shoulder. “Bring him into the kitchen. I’ll examine him there.”

  Following Jane’s instructions, Sunny deposited Shadow on a kitchen island that probably cost as much as her year’s salary at MAX.

  “It’s his side,” she said as the vet helped Shadow to sit up. He was obviously favoring one side.

  Jane nodded. “Cats usually don’t show much when they’re hurting. Out in the big, bad world, a small animal that acts lame or starts crying is just asking to be attacked by something else. It’s simple survival to be stoic.”

  Sunny blinked. “But Shadow cried out. He was in the back of our truck when I passed by, and I didn’t know it until I heard him.”

  Jane looked surprised. “I don’t think he ever talked to Ada. Guess he must like you.” She continued her careful investigation. “He’s definitely hurt—probably a kick. His breathing seems all right …”

  She stepped around to pull a stethoscope from a drawer. “Don’t hear anything wrong with his heart or lungs. The little guy may have some bruised ribs, but I don’t think anything is broken. You can bring him in for X-rays tomorrow”—she looked at the clock—“make that later this morning. Or you can keep an eye on him for a day. If you see breathing problems or if he suddenly doesn’t want to eat, then I’d be worried.”

  Jane gently petted Shadow. “Don’t give him any pain medicines. It’s not just a question of dosage; cats’ systems—or dogs’, for that matter—don’t handle them the same ways ours do. The best thing right now is just to let him rest.”

  Will kept glancing anxiously at the kitchen clock. “Look, I’ve got to go back on patrol.”

  “I’m just going home,” Sunny told him. Will said his good-byes hurriedly and rushed out the door as Sunny turned to Jane. “I’m sorry for barging in like this. Maybe I overreacted.”

  But the vet shook her head. “That kind of trauma can mess up a cat’s lungs, even his heart. You did the right thing.” She saw Sunny to the door. “Besides, it was interesting to see Will again—and you, too, Shadow,” she added, running a finger under his chin.

  She glanced over at Sunny. “You don’t seem too familiar with cats, if you don’t mind my saying so. What’d he do, adopt you?”

  “I—I guess so,” Sunny admitted.

  “As I said, I can retrieve his medical records if you’re going to keep him. He can be a handful, but he’s healthy. If you’re still making up your mind, I have to warn you—he’s starting to bond with you.”

  Sunny looked down into Shadow’s oddly flecked eyes. “Yeah,” she said softly. “I think I am, too.”

  *

  Her dad was in bed by the time Sunny got home. His light was off, and Sunny suspected he had the covers over his head, hoping to avoid her righteous indignation over the results of his attempt to evict Shadow.

  “Too bad, Dad,” she muttered. “I think your fiendish plan to toss Shadow out completely backfired on you.”

  How was Mike going to get rid of the kitty that had saved Sunny and him from being gassed, especially when the feline hero came home injured?

  Sunny transferred Shadow to the pet bed, which had remained in the corner of the living room. Then she carried him, bed and all, up the stairs to her room and put him down in front of her bookcase. “G’night, Shadow,” she said, getting a drowsy “Mrrrrow” in response.

  Smiling, she went off to her own bed.

  *

  Sunny’s alarm rang all too early the next morning. She staggered downstairs to find Mike already making breakfast—his idea of a peace offering.

  She decided not to beat him over the head. Instead she just repeated Jane Rigsdale’s advice about listening to Shadow’s breathing and letting him rest.

  “Let him rest?” Mike muttered incredulously. “How is that different from what he usually does?”

  Shadow came into the kitchen. He was still moving carefully, but already he seemed a bit better. After a brief detour to snag some dry food, he came over and nudged Sunny’s ankle with his head. She reached down and scratched him behind the ears, smiling when he didn’t shy away this time.

  Mike watched and gave a helpless shrug. “So that’s the way it is now?”

  Sunny didn’t even answer, gulping down her coffee and heading for the pickup truck. She made it to the office on time and spent m
ost of the morning trying not to fall asleep on her desk.

  Guess it’s just as well I’m not doing anything critical today, she told herself.

  She tried to look bright and chipper as the office door opened—although the effect was spoiled a little when her mouth dropped open in surprise. Jane Rigsdale walked in. “Several of my patients mentioned you this morning,” the vet said.

  “Parrots?” The snarky question came out before Sunny could think to stop it.

  Jane grimaced. “I guess the ladies who talked to me consider themselves my patients’ mothers. So you were down in New York being a journalist? Now that I think about it, it wasn’t yearbook, was it? You were on the school paper back in the day.”

  Yeah, while you were student government president and prom queen and—Sunny broke off that line of thought. Her high school annoyance at Perfect Miss Jane was almost fifteen years in the past. Why was she getting so riled up about it now?

  She tried to keep that ancient irritation from her voice as she answered. “Yeah, that’s what I was doing until my dad got sick and I came up here to take care of him.” She shrugged, giving Jane a crooked smile. “I took a leave of absence, and then I got laid off. The newspaper business isn’t as healthy as it used to be.”

  Once again, Sunny had to hand it to the gossip establishment over the local media. Here Jane had her whole backstory, not to mention clearly pinpointing where she worked now, all thanks to a couple of conversations with people bringing their sick pets in for treatment.

  If Ollie could figure out how to tack advertising onto that, he’d be a megagazillionaire, Sunny thought. Out loud, she said, “So what brings you back to the old hometown?”

  “Business,” Jane said shortly, drawing herself up. Then her shoulders slumped. “Martin—my ex-husband—had a practice outside of Boston. That’s how I met him, actually. In the vet trade, you essentially start off as an apprentice to an experienced practitioner when you come out of school.” She sighed. “Martin was a very good vet. As a husband, though, not so much. There were problems, financial and personal. I thought we could make a fresh start up here, but—” Jane made a helpless gesture. “Long story short, it didn’t work out. Martin moved on, and I stayed here with the pet hospital.”