Cold or not, this called for desperate measures. I took off my left glove, I needed my right hand to drive with, I grabbed the can and scooped up a good-sized lump of the food and shoved it into the hole.
"Take that you little black bastard!" I shouted up at the raven. It would get the bulk of the can, but the kitten would have something to eat, anyway.
Reluctantly, I gathered up the camp stool and hung it on my left arm. I had to get to the car and wipe my hand off before the cat food froze on my fingers. I couldn't put the glove back on.
I have a stash of restaurant napkins in a plastic bag in the back seat of the car. They come in handy for lots of things. Just this moment one allowed me to get my fingers clean enough so I could put the glove back on.
It was time to get home. Bo would need out again. If I was gone too long, I had no bitch coming if he made a mess. When I'm home, the dog is worse than a kid, in, out, in, out. But I can’t say I mind too much, he's good company.
When Lisa got back, we were going to fight over Bo. If she thought she was taking that dog off to Fairbanks, she had best think again. To my way of thinking 'Mom, will you take care of Bo?' meant forever. I didn't plan on losing the argument; it wasn't an option.
I hated to leave without giving it one more try but did so. Tomorrow morning I would be back. God, did I hate leaving the poor little thing again. With a sigh, I started the car and drove home.
I got out of the office and into the kitchen in time to see her walk out of the driveway. As I watched the woman, for a moment I wondered if I had made a big mistake in letting her stay. If she hurt herself, would she try to sue me? How much trouble would that get me in with the insurance company because I allowed her to try trapping the cat? Could a feral cat be termed an 'attractive nuisance'?
I watched her carefully as she walked off the property, I didn't see any stiffness about her movement. But it was good she left when she did because I did consider going out and telling her she had been in the cold too long.
As bulked up as she looked when I first spoke to her, it seemed she had on winter gear. With one hand on the counter, I kept an eye on her to make sure she got the car started. Ms. Brown would be here tomorrow. I didn't have any doubt.
Down at the corner, the car made a U turn in the side street. When she drove past, Ms. Brown took another look at the old garage. She was really into this kitten thing.
Hungry, I opened the fridge and took a look at the contents. Pretty sad! Bread, lunch meat, mayo, mustard, and catsup made up the bulk of the meagre contents. A full six pack of beer shared beverage space with a bunch of bottled water.
I didn't plan on opening the vegetable bins. Anything that might be in there may have morphed into a science experiment or started to grow again. I've had a couple of things start putting out shoots from their tops when they sat long enough.
One lousy ham and cheese sandwich didn't quell the hunger pangs. I'd spent a fair amount of time during the day traipsing around a couple of deserted places looking for a guy to serve a summons on.
Any real exertion in the cold gives you an appetite for protein and fat. I needed something to replace the calories I'd already burned off. Much as I didn't want to go out again, it looked like I needed to take a drive into town.
A big, fat, greasy burger had my name all over it. It was a pain in the butt, because when I finished eating the thing, I would need to come home and spend at least an hour in the gym.
I needed some real food in the house. Something worth eating in the cupboard or the fridge. A lean steak would be nice, but I didn't have time to sit around in a restaurant waiting for someone to cook one. Down, dirty and quick was a necessity. That meant a trip to the takeout line.
The way my day went there was a fifty-fifty chance I would get a call out tonight, and I needed to be ready if that happened. I bypassed the beer and pulled a bottle of water out of the pack.
One of these days I needed to hire a helper or retire. And retiring had started to sound better as this marathon of working went on. I felt like a slave, and the hell of it was I enslaved myself.
It might not be so bad if I had someone at home -. Where the hell did that come from? I wondered. Then my gaze strayed out to where she had parked the car. She and the car were gone, but I could picture the woman in my head.
This was not a good thing. I was a free agent and didn't answer to a soul. Yepper, you're all alone in this big house. You might drop dead tomorrow, and it could be weeks before you were missed. Grand thought. Fantastic idea. Sometimes the things the human mind comes up with are just plain horrid.
But that one was true none the less, my errant brain pointed out. That sucked big time. Christmas was smack dab in my face, and I didn't have anyone to share it with. No family, no kids, not even a dog. Even that kitten had someone, the woman trying real hard to rescue it.
Wasn't I worthy of rescue? Good damn question. My ex would tell anyone who asked, 'no way.' Was I as bad as she claimed? Certainly no human could be as awful as the woman assured me I was before she split.
I paid my bills, I didn't get drunk and beat on people for fun. I've never been in jail, ever. The extent of my lawlessness amounts to parking tickets, which I racked up like store receipts. As much time as I spent in the courthouse that was a given. If you found a parking spot, odds were the meter would run out before the judge quit talking.
The urge to go out and get that juicy burger fell flat on its face. A nasty little devil of insecurity accompanied by a case of the blues reared its ugly snout. I told myself all would vanish if I went out, found a willing partner and got laid.
I stared at the keys on the counter, then glanced at the door to the garage. No, that wasn't the answer either. I was lonely, and a quick wham and bam wouldn't fix things this time.
Angelina's worry over the kitten opened a door I'd kept closed for far too long. I wanted someone to care about what happened to me the way she cared about the kitten. The ache inside was the size of Denali. If I couldn't find a way to fill this hole, it just might take me out for good and all.
Screw work. Beer thirty, it was time to shut off the phone and take a little time for me. The six pack might take the edge off. If nothing else that much beer would knock me out.
I didn't want to think about any of this. If I thought about my situation any more, I was going to go out to some bar and get shit faced. That could cost me my license. I was better off to stay home and drink my ass into bed.
Everything always looks better in the morning. It's not so much that shit is better, but sunlight has a way of cheering you up no matter what. The other thing different about this morning was a resolve to check up on Ms. Brown.
I wanted to find out everything about her. Truthfully, I wanted to know if a man was hanging out on the fringes somewhere. Before she got back here, and I knew the woman would be back, I got up and got out of the house.
I didn't bother to argue the legalities or the ethics of what I planned to do. I watched her turn onto the road from her driveway and gave her fifteen minutes to make sure she wasn't coming right back. Then I drove up to her house, got out of the truck, and looked around.
A one bedroom place, it probably had a loft. On taking a peek in a window, I discovered she owned a big dog. The animal being inside told me she truly did care about the critter. It was too cold for the dog to be outside, but that wouldn't matter to some individuals.
Another old beater vehicle sat parked with its nose next to a shed. I knew who owned this one, her daughter, Lisa. Not a sign of a man around. The place had some years on it but looked to be well maintained. That was her doing; I was certain of it.
Ms. Brown seemed to be available. What exactly did I want to do about that? We hadn't got off on the best footing. But, if I backtracked and took my time, maybe I could turn this thing around.
I left her house and decided to go out for breakfast. I wanted to give her an opportunity to catch the kitten. An attack of guilt hit
, and I reluctantly turned on the cell. After getting out of her driveway and down the road the phone began to ping.
Turning off the thing guaranteed me a quiet night. One I was about to pay for in spades. It seemed breakfast would be a quick trip to the drive through. I pulled off the road and went through the messages.
Time to get into Anchorage. One of my clients was sitting on a service someone neglected to put into my box at the courthouse. That meant a quick trip to town to grab whatever it was. Half the day was shot already.
Next morning didn't go any better. The kitten was now frightened of its own shadow. I waited around until afternoon without even catching a glimpse.
As I was packing up to leave, Mr. Big Man turned up again. I didn't want to interact with him at all, fearful of hearing how a dumb little kitten didn't matter in the big picture. I was being judgmental; I'll admit it.
If I had a dollar for every time some mighty hunter disparaged a cat, porcupine or a squirrel; I'd have a tidy nest egg. Some bastards go out of their way to hurt the little creatures trying to scurry across the road.
I break for animals; I can't help myself. It has occurred to me that some day someone might hit me because I was dodging a slow moving porky, but what the hell. I have full coverage on the car; I would get it repaired or get another one if it happened.
But surprisingly, he didn't come up with the 'who gives a shit' line I expected.
"No luck, huh?" His parka was partially zipped up, and it looked like he hurriedly put on his boots to come down and see what I was up to now.
With a shake of my head, I acknowledged the truth of the matter. "A damn raven frightened it back inside yesterday, and I haven't seen a whisker all morning."
"So, were you planning on taking it to a vet?"
"Certainly, after the holidays are over. I wanted time to clean it up and let it get used to my dog. Then I thought I would take it in and get it fixed, wormed and all that junk."
"You're going to cut the poor little bastard's balls off if it turns out to be a guy?"
The man had a seriously bad mouth on him. "I plan to do the same if it's a boy or a girl cat. They live longer, and male cat piss stinks to high heaven. I don't intend to live with a spraying male animal."
A big laugh erupted out of him. The damn man was grinning like a big ape when he finally stopped laughing. "Now that conjured up quite a picture in my head, lady. You gonna give it another try in the morning?"
"Yes. I'm scheduled to go back to work on Monday, so the day after Christmas is the only day I have left if I can't make this work tomorrow."
With a nod of his head, he picked up the camp stool and followed me back to the car. "I hope you have better luck in the morning. You might bag a cat for Christmas."
In the car, I started it and rolled down the window. It felt like I was getting a headache. I rubbed my forehead with two fingers. "I'll be back, probably before dawn."
"Take it easy, you'll get him. You're too persistent to lose." He slapped the roof of the car with one hand. "Get some rest. Start fresh in the morning. The temperature is supposed to hold steady for the next couple of days. It'll work out."
The man was trying to be nice. While driving away, I wondered how long he's been living in the big house all alone. He's a nice enough looking man, why isn't there a woman in attendance somewhere?
That's a real good question, and I must admit I'm intrigued. That brings me to what the man does for a living. Whatever it is, he sure doesn't advertise.
Real tightly wound is the way I would describe him if asked. A little more relaxed this afternoon, he still gives off a whiff of 'don't ask'. I wondered if he might be gay. That is something to keep to one's self in this state, and might answer the question why there's no female around.
He has no mailbox out front and no marker giving the address or even a name at the front of the driveway. This is one private man who has every curious cell in my body itching to know more.
On impulse, I decided to drive around the side of his property that faces the side street. I slowed down so I could get a real good look. The cyclone fence in the back caught my eye. The thing had circles of barbed wire on top; this is serious security stuff here.
I also see how he sneaks past me onto the property. His big pickup is parked in the backyard up close to a post fitted with an enormous bank of electrical outlets. A person could plug in, at least, half a dozen cars back here.
The fenced yard is large enough to hold a few motor homes and a couple of boats along with two or three cars. Right now it's vacant. Who in the hell is this man? What am I toying around the edges of?
Whatever this man does is none of my business. I'm not in a relationship with him. We are barely acquaintances, so there's nothing for me to get nervous about. All I'm trying to do is rescue a little kitten.
Angelina! My let's-get-honest conscience pokes a hole in all my justifications. Okay, the man is a serious hunk. So I haven't been laid in a long time, what's that got to do with anything?
And let's not forget that I am now the proud owner of a very empty nest. The two kids who kept me busy and uninterested in local males are no longer guaranteed diversions. It occurred to me that the only company I have at home is a dog and real soon, one cat.
With a sigh, I resigned myself to good books for who knows how long. I could breed animals and live vicariously through them. That is so not funny, not one damn bit.
Something I haven't experienced in a long time is settling into my psyche, the blues. The house is clean; there's not much to do in the way of laundry. I don't have a reason to drag myself out of the house up to the only all night laundromat in the valley.
The twenty-four-hour grocery is open. But there's no need to go there simply to get out of the house. Why bother to waste gas and time when I can sit here and be lonely and slightly depressed.
All the time I've lived here, the lack of noise has been a blessing. Not this night. I need to get my hands on that kitten. It will give me something to do.
I don't need to ask for more hours at work that's not the answer. I'm quite aware of what the real solution is; I need a partner, someone to do things with and for. Did I do the wrong thing all those years ago when I didn't turn tail and leave with my ex? I thought about the strong, self-reliant children I raised and all the fun we had over the years.
I'd been through this before; going back into the rat race of jockeying for position in the business world, and fighting with the school over what I wanted the kids to learn as opposed to what was taught, had me shaking my head. The answer was no. I wasn't happy with that life before I came up here. After a taste of freedom, I wouldn't last half a year in the Lower 48 states.
My kids can balance a checkbook, reconcile a bank statement and know how to budget. Each of them has a savings account and a healthy work ethic balanced with a love of nature and the outdoors.
We knew how to play. I kept track of the local happenings at school and made sure things like dances and stuff included my kids. There were church groups and things that provided that needed interaction with other kids their own age.
Not to mention, I made friends that way too. There were other parents in similar situations to me. Most chose the public school system, a handful didn't. But there was no one special.
In the quiet house, lying in bed, I contemplated what would happen if I didn't show up for work. How long would it take before someone sent the Troopers over for a welfare check? A day, maybe two? The isolation I had loved was suddenly quite empty.
When I rounded the corner, Angie's car sat in the driveway. I wanted to stop and talk to her but didn't have time. That being the case, it might be better if she didn't see me at all.
Somewhere inside, that little voice nagged at me insisting I felt guilty over having checked her place out. I quashed it. If I investigated that thought, I might discover something I didn't want to delve too deeply into.
I chickened out, backed up and went the
long way around. I parked the truck in the backyard. An outstanding repo operation might bear fruit. I hoped to get a chance at the vehicle this time.
Alaska is funny about repo stuff. You can't take a vehicle unless the grab can be done without moving something else. The vehicle, a late model Chevy, eluded me for the last month. The owner of the Chevy always parked in the driveway with an older model car directly behind it.
One of these days he would slip up. I suspected the older car belonged to a kid. That's how the registration looked.
The guy probably hoped if he made it through to a Christmas bonus or something, he would catch up the payments. Unless his employer gave out a couple of thousand, it wasn't going to work. Realistically, he couldn't pull this one out of the fire.
I disliked nabbing the guy's ride at Christmas, but the debtor was too far in the hole, and his bank was having conniptions. The collection's manager made a few threats, hinting he could find someone else to do the job.
My reply, 'have at it' shut him up for the time being. Repo is difficult at best in this state. You must put the item in secure storage on top of not being able to move another vehicle. Anyone who wants the job is welcome to it. The collection manager backed down when I suggested he might give it a try.
The whole thing had me down. I did think about going somewhere else for the holidays, but short of traveling to a Buddhist country I doubted escape from Christmas was possible. Most Buddhist countries are hot as hell with a humidity factor that might cause cardiac arrest in an Alaskan.
About that time the cell phone went off. The next-door neighbor I bribed to tell me when the guy made the mistake of parking out on the street, called. Time to get this show on the road.
Then again, why? Do I want to listen to the guy whine about Christmas and how I should give him a break? And the wife and kiddies, do I want to see them crying their eyes out? I'd feel like a piece of dog shit and the only one getting any satisfaction would be the bank manager, the one with the shitty attitude.
His bottom line would look marvie wonderful for the end of the quarter while the rest of us would be in varying stages of misery. It flat wasn't worth the pain. I decided the jerk could do without crossing that one off the books for the end of the year.
A White Cat For Christmas Page 3
