World without Cats

by Bonham Richards

  “No. I’ve been meaning to go. It’s in the summer, right?”

  “Yes,” Noah replied. “Late July and early August. Perhaps we can go together next summer.”

  “That would be wonderful,” Vera exclaimed. “I went up to Ashland a year ago. They put on an unusual production of Midsummer Night’s Dream. Sort of a surrealistic staging with a laser light show.”

  “Yeah, I read about that. How did you like it?”

  “I didn’t, really,” Vera said. “I guess I’m too much of a traditionalist.

  “There’s another local festival in the summer,” she continued, “I can’t recall … oh, it’s sponsored by Cal-Lutheran … The Kingsmen Shakespeare Festival.”

  “There must be many Shakespeare lovers in the area.”

  Vera raised her wineglass. “To Shakespeare.”

  Noah clinked his glass to hers. “To lovers,” he said.

  Vera smiled. “To lovers.”

  The waitress reappeared out of the gloom. “Care for dessert?”

  “No thanks,” said Vera. Not anything on the menu, anyway.

  Noah shook his head. The woman scratched on her pad and deposited the check in front of Noah. He reached for it. “Wait a minute, Noah, I’ll pay the check,” Vera protested. “I asked you to dinner, remember?”

  “Please let me. I don’t mind.”

  “Dr. Chamberlin,” she said feigning formality, “our incomes are probably comparable. Can you give me one good reason why, considering that it was I who initiated this evening, you should pay the check?”

  “How about each of us paying our own?”

  “Well, all right,” Vera responded. “Look, Noah, I’m sorry I shot off like that. I don’t want us to get off on the wrong foot. But I’m kind of sensitive about … well …”

  “I understand, but I am a product of my upbringing.” This was said with such obvious sincerity that Vera, in spite of herself, was suddenly overwhelmed by a feeling of affection. She reached out and silently touched his hand.

  Noah let it linger. “I guess we should leave,” he suggested at last.

  As they departed the restaurant, Noah said, “Say, I just got a videochip of Branagh’s Much Ado About Nothing. It was made back in 1993. Would you be interested in watching it with me?”

  “Now there’s an approach. What, no etchings?”

  “Well, I do have some etchings. A book collection too. I just thought you might enjoy the movie.”

  Vera regarded Noah. I think he’s serious, she thought. Maybe he’s gay. “Is that the one with Keanu Reeves as Don John?”

  “Yep, that’s the one.”

  “Okay. Sounds appealing. Let’s watch Shakespeare.”

  “How nice,” said Vera as they arrived at Noah’s house. “Quite a pretty area you live in.”

  “Yes, it is. Great neighbors too.” When he opened the door, Vera was startled by a movement just inside. “What? … Oh, you have a cat. I guess it didn’t occur to me that a guy who uses cats in his research would have one as a pet. What a beautiful chocolate-point. What’s her name?” Vera picked the animal up and stroked her.

  “Bastette,” said Noah. “I’ll go whip up some popcorn.”

  “Ah, the Egyptian cat goddess.” She let go of Bastette, who positioned herself on the back of the couch.

  “That’s right,” Noah called from the kitchen. “Can I get you a drink or something?”

  “Scotch, if you have it.”

  Vera surveyed the living room while Noah popped into the kitchen for ice. All was natural wood, red brick, and deep-pile carpet. An immense bookcase covered one entire wall. A large color photograph of a woman Vera assumed to be Myra was conspicuously displayed on one of the shelves. Klee, Picasso, and Braque prints adorned other walls. Several technical books and periodicals were scattered on and around the large blue-green sofa. Vera smiled when she spied a copy of Shakespeare: The History Plays on the walnut coffee table, opened to Henry VI.

  Noah returned with the drinks. “Here you are. I’ll load the chip.” He took the one-inch square digital video chip out of its minibox and slipped it into the DVC slot.

  As the movie began, Noah sat down on the sofa, leaving a large space between himself and Vera. Hmm. What’s with this guy? she wondered.

  After a half hour or so Noah remarked, “You know, we only met this morning, and yet I feel as if I’ve known you for a longer time.”

  “Yes, I know what you mean,” answered Vera. She had been wondering what kind of advance he was going to use.

  When the movie ended, they spent a half hour discussing it. “Wow. It’s really late,” Noah said. “You could stay here tonight if you like. You can sleep in the bedroom, and I’ll sleep on the couch.”

  Vera was astonished, and then she was hurt. Did he find her so unattractive that he wasn’t even going to make a pass? She said nothing, but put down her glass and slid over to Noah’s side. She gazed wordlessly into his brown eyes. He returned the gaze. Vera put her hands around the back of his head and firmly pulled him to her. They kissed, and then they kissed again. She ran her fingers through his thick, black hair.

  After they were both free of clothing, Noah exclaimed, “My God, you’re beautiful!”

  “You’re not so bad yourself.” Vera hadn’t expected such an athletic body on a scientist. So much for stereotypes, she thought. “Do you work out?”

  “Huh? Oh, mainly, I run.”

  “It shows.” God, he knows what he’s doing. Vera alternately sighed and moaned. She tried to return his lovemaking but was nearly incapacitated with ecstasy.

  Vera gasped, “Do you have a condom?” She didn’t want Noah to know that she had a few in her bag.

  “Uh, yeah, in the nightstand.” Hand in hand, they relocated to the bedroom.

  In Salt Lake City, Leland Meredith, an autistic youth of sixteen, had made little progress since his diagnosis eleven years earlier. On the advice of his psychiatrist, Leland’s parents acquired a pet cat. The doctor told them that animal companions often helped autistic patients to function, especially young ones. The all-black cat—Leland named it Darth Vader—was the boy’s constant companion. His mental outlook improved dramatically. At times, his behavior was such that only an expert could suspect he was autistic. Sometimes, for as long as an hour, the boy would watch Darth’s abdomen move slowly, in and out, as he slept. Mr. and Mrs. Meredith attended the First Baptist Church every Sunday and gave thanks to God for sending them the “miracle cat.”

  5

  January 2020

  1,099,700,000

  Three months after Noah and Vera’s memorable first date, Vera drove them to the campus in her Porsche. The ad hoc committee was ready to present its report. The protestors were out in force. Noah was greeted by a rhythmic chant: “Fe Fi Fo Fum, feline killers here we come!”

  “Wow,” exclaimed Noah, “there must be ten times as many as last time. They can’t all be locals.”

  “No, they’re not. Look,” said Vera, pointing to a picket with a neatly lettered sign that read, “STOP SACRIFICING OUR PETS!” and, below that, “ANIMAL LIBERATION ARMY.”

  Noah spotted more signs. “TAXES PAY FOR TORTURE” was claimed by CLAWS, and another: “ANIMALS HAVE RIGHTS TOO.”

  “Look,” he said. “They’re picketing my research too.” He pointed to a sign that read, “STOP RECOMBINANT DNA CLONING!”

  By now, Noah had been recognized by the mob, not surprisingly, as his photograph had recently appeared in The Ventura County Star. Noah remembered how furious he’d been when he’d read a spurious op-ed piece dealing with the perils of gene cloning. The editor, Douglas Kohut, had stated that any research involving recombinant DNA was dangerous and should not be allowed near Camarillo. The editorial had made mention of Dolly, the sheep that had been born as a clone back in 200
2 and had died prematurely. Noah had exclaimed, “What the hell does that have to do with my research?”

  Noah and Vera got out of the car. A thin-lipped, redheaded woman yelled louder than the chanters around her, “You Mengele! How would you like it if somebody used you for research?”

  Shocked by the woman’s hyperbole, Noah nevertheless kept silent. He was keenly aware of an irony the woman could not possibly imagine. Years ago, his mother had told him that his grandfather and grandmother had perished under the knife of the Angel of Death at Auschwitz.

  The crowd pressed in; Noah and Vera had to force their way through to the building. Noah slid his arm around Vera protectively, but she pushed him off, hissing, “I can take care of myself!”

  By the time they got inside the lecture hall, it was packed. Vera had already told Noah of the committee’s conclusion, so that wasn’t a concern, but he was apprehensive about how the students and the public would receive it. He pulled a tube of antacid tablets from his pocket. Vera and Noah made their way to the stage, where they joined Lowell Stanaland and the already-seated committee members.

  With the help of ushers, Norman Orgell distributed copies of the committee’s report to the audience. After Lowell Stanaland had brought order to the assembly with several sharp raps of a gavel, he introduced Orgell who then read from a prepared statement: “We have found that the controversy surrounding gene cloning research has been thoroughly chronicled in both technical literature and the lay press. We’ve learned that, in July of 1974, a committee of scientists engaged in recombinant DNA research had voted for a moratorium on such research until an assessment of the risks could be made.”

  Noah nodded. Until now, he hadn’t realized the depth of the committee’s research. There was a murmur from the hall. Orgell paused to survey the audience. He cleared his throat and continued, “Our committee was impressed by the fact that it was scientists themselves who voluntarily restricted their research and who publicly expressed concern about possible hazards. The guidelines established by the National Institutes of Health—Dr. Chamberlin mentioned these guidelines at the previous meeting—grew out of these early concerns. Furthermore, we have examined Dr. Chamberlin’s facilities and found that all necessary safety precautions required for BSL-2 work are being observed.”

  Orgell paused. “That’s Biosafety Level Two,”

  Noah snuck a surreptitious glance to the rear. Uh-oh, he thought. Lots of frowns.

  “However, we have also read articles by several scientists who believe that such research should not be performed at all, or if it must be done, should be confined to BSL-4 labs. These views comprise a small minority.

  “The committee is divided on the issue of using cats for research. The two student members, Ms. Anneke Weiss and Mr. Jaime Leal, remain in conscientious opposition to their use. However, Dr. Barnett, Mr. Yazdani, and I feel that the overall benefits, both to cats and to humans, far outweigh the opposing arguments.”

  Yes! Noah almost shouted it out.

  “Dr. Barnett, by virtue of her professional expertise as a veterinarian, was able to persuade our two student members to allow Dr. Chamberlin to continue his work on condition that his lab be subject to a monthly inspection by Dr. Barnett and one of the students. Also, as Dr. Chamberlin mentioned at the October meeting, his facilities continue to be inspected four times a year by the CSUCI Institutional Animal Care and Use committee. Accordingly, our committee has concluded that the potential benefits outweigh the risks, and therefore we recommend that Dr. Chamberlin be permitted to proceed with his research.”

  When Orgell finished his statement, there were shouts— “No! No!”— and an upwelling of murmured conversation. Stanaland rose and again waited for silence. “The committee has made its recommendation. Does anyone else care to comment before we conclude?”

  There were scattered shouts from the audience. The time was now four forty-five p.m., and people were starting to leave. Lowell Stanaland stood and intoned, “As our ad hoc committee was fairly constituted and carried out its charge with due diligence, I believe it proper to accept its findings. The committee has recommended that the research be allowed to continue with the proviso that his facilities are to be inspected monthly by Dr. Vera Barnett and one of the student members. I presume, should either of the students leave the university, the responsibility will be passed on to another.” He eyed Jaime Leal, who was sitting in the third row.

  Leal nodded. “I’ll bring that up before the student council at the next meeting.”

  “Good. I’ll have the committee’s report, along with a summary of this meeting typed up and sent to the university president’s office and the Institutional Animal Care and Use Committee. I wish to thank the committee for its conscientious and thorough investigation. This meeting is adjourned.”

  It was all over. Noah was free to proceed with his experiments. He was surprised at the suddenness with which the meeting ended. It’s a good thing that the two students don’t know that Vera and I are literally in bed with each other. He squeezed Vera’s hand.

  Marty’s was a tavern in Old Town Camarillo frequented by university students and faculty members. It was minimally furnished with redwood tables, had sawdust on the wooden floor, and was dimly lit, mainly by a large Budweiser lamp over the pool table.

  “Vera, I really appreciate the part you played on that committee,” said Noah sincerely.

  “Noah, you understand that our friendship had nothing to do with what I did as a member of the committee. I voted the way I did because that’s where our investigation led.”

  I wonder if she’s really that objective, he thought. “I know. What I mean is, I appreciate that you took the time to really look into the matter—you and the other committee members. You people made a thorough investigation, and I’m grateful for that.” Noah’s face grew flushed. “You know, what we have witnessed here is democracy in action. A college community has become concerned about a scientific matter. A committee was formed to examine a highly technical subject. This committee educated and informed itself and ultimately reached the right decision. It really bolsters my faith in the reasonableness of people.”

  Gary emptied his glass and poured another. “Doc, would you have felt that way if the decision had gone against you?”

  Noah studied a droplet that was making an erratic journey down the side of the cold pitcher. He looked up at his companions and confessed in a voice just above a whisper, “If the decision had gone against me, I would have left the institute and gone elsewhere to do MEFA research.”

  The next morning, after putting out fresh food for Bastette, Noah sat down at his laptop with a cup of fresh-brewed coffee. Vera was running a shower. He accessed The Star website, where he found a brief report of the meeting on the third page. On the op-ed page, he found an editorial Noah figured was written by Kohut. It expressed disappointment with the committee’s decision and with Noah being allowed to continue to carry out recombinant DNA research. The guy doesn’t quit. He read on. Whoa! Kohut expressed hope that no ill would result from the work and urged the citizens of Camarillo and the students at CSUCI to accept the committee’s findings and let Noah get on with his work without harassment.

  “Well, I’ll be a sonovabitch,” Noah uttered aloud.

  Jake Moloney, a blackjack dealer at Harrah’s, drove by the city animal shelter in Reno every day on his way to work. He was preoccupied on this day with his daughter Irene’s fifth birthday four days hence. He had discussed a proper gift with Joan, but neither parent had any idea for anything appropriate. All they could think of were routine toys.

  As he waited for a stop light to turn, Jake’s eyes fell on the sign “City Pound.” His brow wrinkled. I wonder …

  When he arrived home that evening, Joan asked, “Any ideas for a present? We’ve got to do something big. It’s her fifth birthday, for crying out loud.”

  Jake smiled. “How ab
out something very little that would make a big gift?”

  “Oh Jake, she’s too young for fancy jewelry,” Joan objected.

  “Not jewelry, a kitten.”

  Joan frowned. The frown turned to a smile. “And just who would take care of this kitten?”

  “Okay, we would, at first. But this would be a great way to teach Irene about responsibility. We could start with showing her that the cat always has to have water, then how to feed the cat … litter stuff, you know, all the chores we did with Tigerpaws before Irene was born.”

  “Honey, that’s a marvelous idea. Do you know someone who’s got a kitten to give away?”

  “I was thinking we could stop by the pound and pick one up there. You know they don’t cost much, and they’ve been given all the shots … all that stuff. How about you meet me at the pound about four thirty tomorrow. Leave Irene with Mrs. Golter next door.”

  Joan put her arms around her husband and gave him a hug. “You have just won the most-thoughtful-father-of-the-year award.”

  “Oh? What’s the award?”

  Joan grinned. “You’ll find out later tonight.”

  6

  April 2020

  1,099,400,000

  Three months after Noah had resumed his research, Vera and Kal at the clinic were examining the tender abdomen of a Rottweiler. When her phone sounded, Vera answered it with her customary, “Hello, Barnett the vet.”

  “Vera, this is Dottie. Vera, I need you. My cats are sick, real sick. I’ve lost four of the darlings already.” Vera heard the agitation in her longtime friend’s voice. Sixty-three-year-old Dorothy Knowland loved cats; her home was thick with them.

  “Whoa, honey. Calm down. Do you have any of those tranquilizers you take?”

  “Yes but …”