by Patricia Fry
The boy nodded.
“How old are you now?” she asked.
“Four,” he said shyly.
Savannah ran one hand over his freshly combed hair and smiled. “Such a big boy and a handsome one, too.”
“Is that your cat?” he asked.
“Yes. Want to meet him?”
“Okay.”
Savannah reached behind her, lifted Rags, and held him closer to Kevin. “His name’s Rags. You can pet him if you want to.”
“Why does he have that on him?” the boy asked, referring to the harness.
Savannah poked the boy gently in the tummy. “Because he likes to run away and this keeps him from doing that.”
“Ohhh,” the boy said. “Where does he go?”
Savannah thought for a minute, then stood up and reached into the car. “You know what? Here are a couple of books that tell about some of Rags’s adventures. Would you like to take them home and have your mom and dad read them to you?”
“I can read,” he said. When Savannah stared down at him, he explained, “I know a lot of words: cat, dog, rat, bat, ball…” he recited.
“Well, you’ll be reading Rags’s stories in no time, won’t you?”
“What do you say, dude?” Stu asked when Savannah handed the boy the books.
“Thank you.” Kevin turned to his mother. “Look, Mommy, it’s that cat right there, Rags.”
“It sure is.”
Gwen looked over Sarah’s shoulder at the books. “Good job, Savannah banana. These are great-looking books.”
“What did you expect?” Sarah asked quietly. “Of course if Savannah’s involved it’s going to be well done.”
“I just thought…” Gwen started. “I mean, who’s ever heard of a cat doing a book signing?”
“This certainly will be a first,” Sarah said, smiling. “Let’s go in and see how it’s done.”
As Savannah reached into the car for her purse and closed the doors, Margaret sidled up to her. “Who does that girl think she is making fun of you and your trick cat?” she said sarcastically. “I guess you put her in her place.”
“Oh, Gwen? Yeah, she has a personality that can grate on you, but I do love her.” She abruptly faced her aunt. “Actually, she reminds me a lot of you.”
“Huh?” Margaret said, obviously stunned. “Hey, what did you mean by that?” she called, scurrying to catch up with Savannah.
Savannah simply smiled and continued walking with Rags toward the bookstore entrance.
****
“That went well, don’t you think so, Vannie?” Margaret asked as they drove home a few hours later.
“Yes. Rags was a good boy.”
“I believe you managed to impress your doubting-Debbie girlfriend. What’s up with her, anyway? And why would she remind you of me? She’s nothing like me. Did you hear her making all of those insulting remarks? At least they sounded like insults to me. I don’t talk to people that way, for heaven’s sake.”
Savannah simply grinned and kept driving.
When they arrived at Gladys’s home, she greeted them. “So how did it go?”
Margaret was first to respond. “I think it was probably our best one yet. Good turnout—no problems. Don’t you think so, Vannie?”
“Oh, yes, it went quite smoothly. I missed having Rob there to run things, but you’re right, it was a nice evening.”
Gladys tilted her head. “Do you usually have trouble at these events? What made this one so good?”
Savannah took off her coat, removed Rags’s harness, and plopped down in a chair. “It was well managed, the kids were pretty calm, and we didn’t have to chase after Rags.”
“Yeah,” Margaret agreed, then winced. “I did see a couple of boys throwing books at each other and Rags upset that woman’s designer coffee…”
Savannah added, “Uh-huh, and there was that little problem when someone brought in a small dog. But all in all, it was a very nice evening.”
Gladys lowered her brow. “Sounds kind of chaotic to me. What usually goes on at one of those? I mean what could be worse than what you just described?”
“What could be worse?” Margaret repeated, laughing. “Would you believe a cat that steals a wad of cash and a diamond ring and puts it in Vannie’s purse?”
“What?” Gladys said, staring at her daughter.
“Yeah, and the cat urfed up a hairball on a cashmere sweater and that almost cost Vannie and Michael thousands of dollars, right?”
Savannah nodded reluctantly.
“And you should have been at some of our photo shoots,” Margaret continued.
“What could happen at a cat photo shoot, for Pete’s sake?” Gladys asked.
“Well, your grand-cat there found some dope and spilled it out all over the floor, of course infuriating the druggie photographer.”
“Oh my!” Gladys exclaimed.
“So Rob got us a new photographer for the next photo shoot and Rags was accused of stealing her engagement ring. Your daughter almost got arrested that time.”
“Vannie, is this true?”
“I’m afraid so, Mom.”
“Yeah, life as a stage mother for a cat is not as glamorous as it seems,” Margaret said. She grinned at Savannah and added, “…well, for some people.” More smugly, she said, “I, personally, haven’t had any trouble, but then I have well-behaved cats.”
“Is that someone’s phone?” Gladys asked.
“Oh,” Margaret said, picking up her purse and fumbling around inside. “It’s mine.” She pulled it out and looked at the screen. “Damn telemarketer,” she spat. “You know, ever since I signed up for a couple of free things at that mall opening a few months ago, I’ve been inundated with telemarketer calls. I guess I shouldn’t be so free with my cell phone number.”
“Not if you don’t want calls,” Savannah agreed.
“What’s this?” Margaret asked, pulling something else out of her purse.
Savannah tilted her head. “What?”
“Well, I don’t know. It looks like some sort of bracelet. It’s not mine. Oh my gosh, it has someone’s name on it.” Margaret looked at Savannah, then Gladys. “I think it’s one of those medical alert ID bracelets. Good grief, how did it end up in my purse?” Suddenly, she lowered her head in one hand and began to laugh.
“What’s wrong with you?” Savannah asked.
“And we thought we got through this event without any problems,” Margaret said between chortles.
Gladys looked down at Rags, who sat in the middle of the floor giving himself a lick-bath. “Maggie, you mean the cat…?” she started.
“Yeah,” Margaret said. “How else…?”
Gladys appeared to be confused. “But how did he…?”
Margaret cut her off. “Who knows?” She smirked at the cat. “But I can tell you, he has a way of leaving his mark or taking something that isn’t his everywhere we go. Right, Vannie?”
Savannah let out a sigh. “Oh, I hope it wasn’t him. Maybe a child accidently dropped it and it landed in your purse. I mean, I had Rags under my control the whole time. He was never off leash this evening. There was just that one time when I thought the leash strap was hooked under my chair and…”
“Pshaw,” Margaret said. “He may have been on the leash, but he was not in your control all the time. I saw him get tangled up under the chairs more than once and he nearly pulled you under the desk a few times. And what about when you let that kid take him for a walk?”
“I was watching,” she insisted. “They never got out of my sight.”
“What does it matter how it came to be in your pocketbook?” Gladys insisted. “What are we going to do with it? It looks important and it’s so small; it must belong to a child. We should try to find the owner.” She looked bewildered. “But how?”
After thinking about it for a moment, Savannah asked, “Is there a phone number on it? What about a doctor’s name?”
“Yes, a phone number,” Margaret said. “But if that’s the doctor’s number, your call will go to a service. I doubt that we can find the owner tonight.”
Savannah reached out for the bracelet and examined it. “Well let’s try, shall we?”
Nearly forty minutes later, Savannah announced, “I found him. It belongs to a little boy. His dad’s on his way over to pick it up. He said the boy has multiple medical problems and he must wear the bracelet at all times. He was, indeed, at the bookstore this evening. He said the boy has lost some weight and he noticed the bracelet was getting loose. He meant to remove a link so it would fit better. He’s just thankful we found it. He’s bringing his son with him.” She laughed. “He said all the boy has talked about since the book signing is Rags. His dad thought he would be thrilled to see him again.”
It wasn’t long before the doorbell rang. “Hello, Mr. Thacher, is it?” Savannah greeted.
He held out his hand. “Make it John.” He looked down at his son. “This is Jayden.”
“Hi, Jayden,” Savannah said. “Rags has been waiting for you.”
“Really?” the small, freckled-faced boy said excitedly.
As Savannah ushered them inside, John apologized. “I’m sorry to bother you so late, but I leave on a business trip in the morning and my wife works the early shift at the hospital.” He looked down at the boy. “It really is important that he wears that.”
“No problem,” Savannah assured him. She picked up the bracelet and handed it to him, saying, “Before I forget…”
“Is this where Rags lives?” the six-year-old asked, looking around.
“No,” Savannah explained, “he lives in Northern California with me. We’re here visiting with Rags’s grandmother this week.” After inviting the boy and his father to sit down in the living room, Savannah asked, “Did you get one of Rags’s books?”
“Yes, and pictures of his friends Jack and Layla. Dad said we can go back to the bookstore and get the next book after I can read this one real good.”
Savannah smiled at the boy and his dad.
John examined the bracelet. “Yes, I’ll need to tighten it.” He let out a sigh. “He’s losing more weight and the docs don’t know why.”
Suddenly, Jayden let out a squeal. “Rags!” he shouted. He ran to the cat. “Rags, hi. Do you remember me?” He kneeled down and wrapped his arms around the cat.
“Jayd,” his dad called out, “don’t attack the cat, Son. Cats are different from dogs. They don’t like to be roughed up.” He began to chuckle. “However, that cat doesn’t seem to mind an enthusiastic hug, does he?”
“No,” Savannah said, “and he likes kids.”
John removed his cell phone from his pocket and took a few pictures of his son with Rags. “What’s that he’s doing?”
“What?” Savannah asked, turning in that direction.
“The cat’s trying to sniff Jayd’s neck.”
The boy giggled. “Yeah, he’s tickling me with his whiskers.” Jayden rolled onto his back and Rags stepped on him and continued to sniff his neck.
“Come on Rags,” Savannah said, making a move to intervene.
“Oh, he’s okay, I’m sure,” John said.
“Did Jayden have fish for supper?” Margaret quipped.
John shook his head. After watching the boy and the cat for a few minutes, he said rather absent-mindedly, “That’s really strange.” When he noticed the women waiting to hear more, he chuckled a little nervously. “Well, as I said, he’s had a lot of medical issues and the doctors haven’t been able to come up with a suitable diagnosis and treatment, so my wife…” he paused and glanced at the women, “my wife and myself, we took Jayd to a sort of psychic and she said that his problems stem from an area in the throat. We figured that must mean the thyroid and we plan to bring this up to his doctor.” He shook his head in disbelief. “Now the cat is…I mean, look at how he’s just lying there with his paw on Jayd’s throat.” He squinted in Savannah’s direction. “Is he some sort of therapy cat or something?”
Savannah shook her head. “No, but he seems to have sensitivities we don’t quite understand.”
“I actually believe Rags is trying to show us something,” Gladys said quietly. When everyone looked at her, she explained, “Darby and I watched a show recently featuring a dog that could detect certain medical problems. That dog behaved like Rags is right now—he’d sort of focus on an area of someone’s body.” Her eyes lit up. “Once, the little dog, Daisy was her name, seemed to predict a heart attack. She rested on the woman’s chest and just stared into her eyes.” Gladys looked at her daughter. “Vannie, has he ever done this before?”
“Oh, that cat does so many off-the-wall things, how would you know?” Margaret cranked.
Everyone stared down at the boy as he lay quietly on the floor petting the cat, who still lay on his chest. Savannah said quietly, “Well, he does seem sensitive to other animals when they’re sick or frightened.” She looked at John. “My husband used him as a therapy cat for animals when he did a veterinary clinic for the homeless community during the holidays.”
“And he kept June Balcomb’s cat warm that night when she was lost,” Margaret said. “She was suffering from some ailment, wasn’t she?”
Savannah nodded. “Yes, and when I’m having a bad day, he’s right there with me as if he has empathy.” She looked askance. “I believe he was the first to know that I was pregnant.” She winced a little. “Actually, I’ve never told this to anyone.”
When Savannah hesitated, Margaret said, “Really? How did he do that, pray tell? Bring you one of those pregnancy tests?”
Savannah shrugged. “Well, he just started focusing on me—in particular my stomach—for a week or so. I didn’t pay much attention to him at first, until, well, until I realized I could be expecting. Even before the morning sickness started, Rags wanted to lie close to my stomach. I remember because I often had to push him off me.” She let out a sigh. “Yeah, he seems to have some strange instincts, that’s for sure.” She focused on the boy. “But what he’s sensing with Jayden, if anything, I don’t have a clue.”
John walked to where his son lay quietly with the cat. He crouched down, petted Rags, and picked up one of his paws. “He doesn’t mind having his paws touched, does he? I trust a cat who lets you handle his paws.” He added, “But look at that, he keeps putting his paw back on the same spot on Jayd’s neck. Isn’t that odd?”
“He’s probably aware of something the doctor missed,” Gladys said excitedly. “That’s just how it was on that TV program I watched. You’d better take him back to that doctor.”
“And tell him what?” John asked. He chuckled nervously. “I mean, we’re already going to sound crazy when we tell the doc that we consulted a psychic. If we say that a cat sent us, he’ll probably have us ushered out of his office in straightjackets.” After studying Rags and Jayden for a few minutes, he said more quietly, “You know, it’s certainly worth a try. If there’s something the doctors are missing, we need to find out what it is. It could make a difference in my son’s health and his future.”
“And if the cat’s just being friendly?” Margaret asked.
“Then, there’s no harm done.” He stood up and looked down at the boy and the cat. “I’ve thought about getting him a therapy animal. He has seizures, you know. The meds seem to be working now, but to have a reliable alarm system for him, if he forgets to take his medication… I mean, it could save his life.” He reached down and petted Rags. “Yeah, I’m going to look into that.” He asked Savannah, “You wouldn’t consider selling that cat, would you?”
The boy sat up and Rags leaped to the floor next to him. “We could buy Rags? Really, Dad?”
“I’m afraid not, Jayden,” Savannah said gently. “But I’m sure you and your dad will have fun finding you just the right pet.” Savannah reached into a tote bag and pulled out a couple of books. “Here are a few more of Rags’s boo
ks if you’d like to have them.” She looked sternly at the boy. “But be sure you learn to read them all, will you? …like your dad says.”
Taking them, he said, “I sure will. Thank you.” He kneeled next to the cat and hugged him. “Thank you, Rags. I sure do love you.”
“Yes, thank you,” John said. He then spoke to Jayden. “We’d better go, Son.”
“Good luck,” Savannah said as she ushered the pair out. “We’ll be doing a few more signings around town if you want to stop by.” She handed John a piece of paper. “Here’s our schedule.”
“Great! Can we, Dad? Can we?”
John chuckled. “We’ll see, Son. Our priority right now is to get you to the doc again and then maybe when I get back from my trip, we can start looking for a therapy pet.”
“Yay!” the boy cheered. He waved and ran to their car.
“John, please let us know how things go, would you?” Savannah asked. “You have my cell number.”
“Sure will.” Before turning to leave, John said, “I can’t tell you how encouraged I am after our visit. Thank you.”
“Wow!” Savannah said upon closing the door. “I have goose bumps.”
“Oh, Vannie, do you really believe your cat is all that intelligent? I think there was just a lot of wishful thinking going on here tonight.”
“Now, Maggie,” Gladys said, “it’s closed minds like yours that keep miracles from being recognized.”
“Huh?” Margaret said. “Where did that come from, Ms. Stuffy-Pants.”
“Stuffy-Pants?” Savannah repeated, laughing.
“That’s former Stuffy-Pants to you, my dear sister,” Gladys joked. “You’re never too old to grow, you know.”
“But you’ve never believed in what you couldn’t see. You’ve always seen everything as black or white. Where did this new open mind you’re bragging about come from, anyway?”
Gladys smiled coyly at her sister and headed toward the kitchen. “Hungry? I made a fruit cobbler. Want a bedtime snack?”
