Syrah, however, is my most vocal cat, and when I didn’t hear any meowing in response to my calls, I was sure he wasn’t nearby. Cats have such good hearing that they can detect the sound of a bat stretching its wings, and I was nearly shrieking his name.
I finally gave up, and when I came inside I found Merlot sitting by the back door. I was trembling all over as I crouched next to him. He rubbed against my knees and purred while I took my cell phone from my pocket, ready to report the break-in.
“Are you trying to comfort yourself or me?” I asked as I dialed 911. The last time I’d had to do that—when John collapsed—had been the worst day of my life. This event certainly wasn’t as horrible, but punching those three numbers again made it seem like John had died only yesterday.
My big cat circled me lovingly as I stood, nudging me, trying to comfort me as best he could. He knew how upset I was.
“What is your emergency?” said the woman who answered.
“Um . . . um . . . my cat is missing.”
The dispatcher said, “Ma’am, this line is for—”
“I’ve had a break-in. There’s a shattered window and—” My mouth was so dry, the words wouldn’t come.
“Your name, ma’am?”
“J-Jillian Hart. I live at 301 Cove Lane in Mercy.” Merlot and I walked back to the living room and I picked up the cable and DVR remote. I hit the MUTE button to kill the audio before I turned on the TV. The Sony plasma worked fine and was tuned to Animal Planet as it should be. I jabbed the OFF button, wondering what kind of thief would break into my house and turn off my expensive TV.
“Ma’am. Are you there, ma’am?” It came out like “Ah you there, ma-aaam?” Very Southern, reminding me that I was far from our longtime Texas home and far from anyone who really understood what an emergency this was for me.
“Yes. I’m here.”
“I see this is a cellular numbah, but are you callin’ from inside the home?”
“Of course. My cat is gone and—”
“Officers are on their way. Do you feel safe or do you believe the intruder might still be inside or in the immediate vicinity?” Her South Carolina drawl was so thick and I was so distracted by worry that she might as well have been speaking a foreign language.
I closed my eyes, processed her question. “I—I’ve searched the house. No one’s here but me and my two babies.”
“But you do fear for your safety, ma’am?”
“I fear for my cat’s safety and—” Tears sprang unexpectedly to my eyes and I bit my lip.
“Ma’am, is something happenin’ right this minute? Is this intruder back?”
“No. It’s just that . . . I don’t know where he is. I can’t find him.” How pathetic I sounded. Syrah was a cat, after all.
“I fully understand your concern. My name is Barbara Lynne. May I call you Jillian?”
“Yes. Of course.”
“Tell me about these babies you mentioned. How old are they, Jillian?”
“Chablis is about five and Merlot is probably around eight. They’re fine. Well, not exactly fine because Chablis is having an allergic reaction and—”
“Oh my. Should we send an am-bu-lance?” Her previously unruffled tone was now laced with concern.
“I have medicine. She’ll be okay in an hour or two. I haven’t had time to give her an antihistamine. I’ve been busy searching—”
“Exactly where are your children, Jillian? I don’t hear them, but I assume they’re with you, with their mama?”
“Oh. Oh no. You’re confused. Chablis and Merlot are my two other cats.”
A pause, then, “Is that so?” Sweetness and concern had now left the building. She couldn’t have sounded any colder if she’d been standing in a blizzard in North Dakota.
I stayed on the line as instructed—I was “ma’am” again—and no longer felt any love from the dispatcher. She offered only an occasional “Are you still there?”
Meanwhile, my panic worsened as I waited for the police. Possibilities ran through my head. The person who broke in obviously let Syrah out. My beautiful, wonderful cat could be lying dead by the road after being hit by a car. He could have fallen off the dock into the lake and drowned. He could have— No. Stop this.
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The Cat, the Sneak and the Secret Page 24
