Patricia Fry - Klepto Cat 04 - Undercover Cat

by Patricia Fry

  Michael gave Damon the address and, after hanging up, told Savannah, “I’m going in early this morning. I’ll see you later today.”

  It was seven forty-six when Damon walked through the front door of the Ivey Veterinary Clinic. He looked around and then noticed Michael entering the waiting room wearing his lab coat.

  “Where’s the cat?” Michael asked, glancing around the room in search of a carrier or at least a box.

  “Here,” Damon said, as he carefully unzipped his jacket and reached in to bring the kitten out.

  “Oh, this is a beauty,” Michael said as he took the long-haired, light grey-and-white tabby in his hands. He looked over at Damon. “This is one of Colbi’s ferals? I have seen some of hers—she brings them in for neutering and vaccines. Don’t think I’ve seen this one.” He took the kitten from Damon, held it up, and looked into its eyes. He turned the kitten around and lifted its tail. “Yup, you’re a little girl. You feel awfully thin,” he said. “Let’s examine you.” He turned to Damon. “Wanna come?”

  “Uh, yeah, I guess,” he said, following Michael down the hallway and into an examining room.

  Damon looked around the room.

  “Here, hold her, will you?” Michael said. “My assistants aren’t here yet.”

  “Sure.” Damon walked up to the table where Michael had placed the cat and put his hands around her. He could feel the little thing quivering. “Is she cold or just scared?”

  “Was she shivering when you had her in your jacket?”

  “Yeah, a little,” Damon said.

  “Well, let’s take a look.” Michael pulled out a thermometer, shook it down and inserted it under the kitten’s tail. He then placed the end of a stethoscope against the kitten and listened intently. He felt around in the area of the abdomen, put the kitten’s little face in his hands, and smoothed back her fur, looking into her eyes. He opened her mouth and peered inside. He also weighed her. Damon stood nearby, reaching out to help when it appeared the kitten was about to jump off the table.

  “Looks to be about ten weeks old,” Michael said, glancing up at Damon.

  “Gosh, just a baby cat, then. That’s why she’s so much smaller than all the others out at Colbi’s.”

  Michael pulled out the thermometer, wiped it off, and looked at it. He shook his head slightly. “Good job, Damon. I’m glad you noticed a problem and brought this little girl to me. She seems to have a respiratory infection of some kind. Temp is over a hundred-three.”

  “Oh my gosh, will she die?”

  Michael laughed a little. “I don’t think so, Damon. One-hundred-three isn’t all that high for a cat. I’d like to keep her here for the day, start her on antibiotics; she’s a little dehydrated, so I will give her some fluids.”

  “Oh,” Damon said, looking down at the kitten, “how much will it cost?”

  Michael smiled over at him. “Let’s not worry about that now, shall we? You have a lot on your plate, and I’m sure Colbi will appreciate you bringing her in here. A lot of feral cats die because no one cares enough. We appreciate you caring.”

  Damon gave Michael a weak smile.

  “Call us later this afternoon and we’ll see how she’s doing, okay?”

  Damon continued to look down at the kitten, who was sitting on the examining table enveloped in Michael’s hands and staring up into Damon’s eyes. “Okay,” he said. He started to turn away and then changed his mind. He reached out and touched the kitten on the head. “’Bye, little one.”

  “Hmmm, Michael said. You must have hit her purr button.”

  “Really? She’s purring?” Damon said, a puzzled look on his face. He took in a deep breath and raised his eyes to meet Michael’s. “Okay, then. I’ll call you later today. Thank you, doctor…uh, Michael.”

  ***

  It was nearly three thirty when Damon had a chance to make the call to the Ivey Veterinary Clinic. The receptionist answered the phone.

  “Hi, this is Damon Jackson. I brought a cat in this morning. Dr. Ivey said for me to call.”

  “Oh yes,” Scarlett, said, “he just brought me the kitty’s chart. He wants to talk to you; can you hold on for a second?”

  “Yes.”

  “Hi Damon. The kitty’s doing pretty well,” Michael said. “She’s still weak, but more comfortable. She’s eating a little canned kitten food. What has she been fed out there at Colbi’s?”

  “I’ve been giving them some sort of little star-shaped food that comes in a bag. But I haven’t seen that cat eating it.”

  “Damon, I’d like to send her home with someone. She’s such a friendly kitty, I think she would do better in a home situation. Could you take her and make sure she eats and gets her medicine for at least a few days? I want her to eat canned food for now—kitten food.”

  “Uh, give it medicine? How do you do that? Where do I get the food?”

  “Come on in and we’ll show you what to do. I’ll send you home with some of the food to get you started and some litter in a pan.”

  “Litter?”

  “Yeah, I don’t want her outside, just yet. She’s going to need a place to go potty.” Michael chuckled. “You just come in sometime before five this evening and we’ll get you set up. That is, if you’re willing.”

  “Um, sure, I guess I could do that. You think just for a few days? And then I can take it back out to Colbi’s to be with its friends?”

  Michael hesitated and then said, “I’d like you to bring her in after a few days and let me examine her before she’s turned out into the elements again. Okay?”

  “Yeah.” Damon hung up the phone, plopped his elbows on his desk and rested his face in his hands.

  “Everything okay, Jackson?”

  Damon lifted his head and sat back. “Well no, not with Colbi missing, nothing’s okay.”

  Sterling Boggs pulled up a chair and sat down across from Damon. “Yeah, it’s hard to imagine what has happened to her.” He looked Damon in the eyes. “I know the two of you were spending time together. It’s gotta be rough.” He paused for a moment and rubbed his chin. “I just don’t know what to say, Jackson. Let’s just hope they find her before…”

  Damon took a deep breath in an attempt to ward off the show of emotion he felt building in his chest. He quickly changed the subject. “I just agreed to take care of a cat—in my house. Never did that before.” He looked up at his boss and asked, “You ever have a cat?”

  “Oh yes, my wife has cats. They’re actually pretty cool. Entertaining.”

  “This one’s sick,” Damon said.

  Boggs stared over at Damon. “Do you have to be with it twenty-four/seven? Are you going to bring it to work? Or go home on your lunch hour to take care of it?”

  “Not sure. I don’t think I’ll have to stay with it all the time. But I don’t really know what to do with it when I’m gone. Can a sick cat stay by itself?”

  Boggs laughed. “Sure they can.” He turned serious. “But a sick cat that’s new to the place could find trouble for himself. Hey, I know what…we have this big wire cage that we use when we need to isolate a cat from the others. We bought it at a second-hand store when my wife rescued a litter of wild kittens. Why don’t I bring it to you and you can make a home for the kitty in there for while you’re gone.”

  Damon shrugged. “Okay. Sounds like a good idea, I guess.”

  “Good. In fact, I’ll call my son and have him bring it over on his way to basketball practice.”

  “That would be great. Thanks.”

  ***

  Later that evening at the Ivey home, Savannah, Michael, and their overnight guests were in the kitchen talking.

  “So tell us about your new place, Sis,” Savannah said.

  “I really lucked out,” Brianna said enthusiastically after putting the last of the dinner dishes in the dishwasher. “I have two bedrooms, a little patio of my own, and a view.” She spun around before facing the others again. “I love, love, love it!”

  Savannah grinne
d. “This is a far cry from yesterday’s experience, isn’t it?”

  “Oh yeah!” Brianna said. “Mom, tell her how gorgeous it is.” Before her mother could speak, Brianna added, “And the price is affordable on my salary. I’m so pumped.”

  “I can see that,” Savannah said. “That’s great news, Sis. Can’t wait to see it.” She glanced around at her mother and Michael before saying, “Shall we take our dessert into the living room?”

  Once in the living room, Gladys started to set her teacup and dessert plate on the small table alongside the overstuffed chair. “Hey, what’s he doing?” she asked as she saw Rags leap up next to the lamp.

  Savannah looked over at the cat. “Oh no you don’t, Rags,” she said, raising herself from the sofa where she’d barely gotten settled.

  “I’ll get him,” Michael offered.

  Before he could react, Savannah grabbed the cat and eased something out of his mouth.

  “What is it?” Michael asked.

  “Well, it’s the address of a cat hoarder Auntie and I visited last year. Remember when we were trying to find out what was happening to the missing cats?”

  “I sure do. But they weren’t taking the cats. So why do you need their address?”

  “Michael, they were ugly, ugly people. We thought animal control was going to shut them down and maybe they did. But when Iris said that Colbi had been working on a story about cat hoarders before she…disappeared, I thought this might be important. Rags and Charlotte found it in his stash yesterday.”

  “His stash of stolen goods?” Brianna laughed.

  Michael shook his head in disbelief and reached out to pet the cat who was trying to climb Savannah’s leg in an attempt to get at the card.

  “Why is this card so important to you, Rags?” Savannah asked looking down at him. She then reached into the pocket of her bulky sweater and pulled out another business card. “Here, you can have this card someone left at the door.”

  “What’s that card for?” Michael asked.

  Savannah looked down at it and said, “Lawn care, tree trimming…” She held it out to the cat. “Here Rags, you can have this one.”

  He sniffed it and then sat down and stared up at her.

  “He wants the other one,” Brianna said. “Maybe he knows it might be important in finding your friend.”

  “Yeah, hon. Have you called Craig?” Michael asked.

  “Not yet. I sorta forgot.” She looked down at the card again and said, “You know what, I’ll do that right now.”

  “What did he say?” Michael asked when Savannah returned to the room.

  “Didn’t get to talk to him. Left a message. Then I called Iris’s house. She wasn’t home, but I talked to Damon. I gave him the information in case he sees Craig before he gets my message.” Savannah sat down next to Michael on the sofa. She patted her husband’s leg. “He said he has a kitten. Is that the cat he called about this morning? Did he bring it in?”

  “Yeah, the little thing has a slight respiratory infection. I treated her and sent her home with Damon.”

  “That’s funny.”

  “Yeah, it kinda is, isn’t it? Damon taking care of a cat…” They both laughed.

  “What’s so funny about that?” Brianna asked.

  Gladys looked puzzled, too.

  “Well,” Michael said, “Rags is the guy who put Damon in jail and all he could say while he was being fingered…er…a…pawed, was ‘I hate blankity blank cats!’” He put his hand over Savannah’s and squeezed it. “Did he say how the kitten’s doing?” he asked.

  “Yeah, he said she seems a lot more comfortable, but all she wants to do is snuggle with him.” Savannah looked over at Michael. “Do you know what he told me?”

  “What?” he asked.

  “He said, ‘This cat’s pretty cool. Not like other cats.’” She laughed and Michael joined in.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Brianna asked.

  Michael looked over at her and then glanced at Gladys, who was also waiting for a response. “Well, people who have never let a cat into their homes or their hearts and who think they dislike cats, once they befriend one, will usually say something like, ‘This cat is different…not like other cats.’” He paused and then said, “This is a beautiful kitten and seems sweet—not skittish like most ferals we see.”

  ***

  Damon hung up the phone after speaking with Savannah and punched in Craig’s number. I know Savannah just called him, but I think I’ll try again. This information could be important and Craig should have it as soon as possible. The call went to voicemail. Damon left a message.

  He placed his phone on the bedside table and looked down at the kitten, who was curled up next to him. “You sure like to cuddle, don’t you?” he said while running his fingers along the top of the kitten’s little tabby head. Within a few seconds, the purring started. Damon smiled. “I like your purr sound, kitty.” He thought about it and realized he had never heard a cat purr before—never in his life. It’s cool. I’ve never had a cat like me before, either. “You seem to like me, don’t you, kitty?” Hmmm, kitty, he thought. Not a very cool name for such a cool cat. “What should we call you?”

  Dang, am I losing it? I’m talkin’ to a cat. The fluffy tabby raised her head and stared up at Damon. “You sure have a cute little face,” Damon said, running a finger alongside the kitten’s cheek. “I like your eyeliner.”

  He glanced over at the phone. Gosh, I wish Craig would call. He looked down at the kitten again. She was resting her chin on Damon’s hand. “So what are we going to call you? You’re cute, you like to cuddle, you’re fluffy, you’re a survivor, you have stripes—sort of—and little white feet. And you wear eyeliner.” He laughed. “And you live with the girl I love.” Damon felt a lump in his throat. Did I just say I love Colbi? Yeah, I guess I do. He scrunched down on his bed and buried his face in the kitten’s fur. I just hope I get a chance to tell her that.

  He sat up. The kitten raised her head too, stared at Damon for a few seconds and then laid back down. Damon smiled at the kitten. “You are cute,” he said. “And you need a name. How about Dolly?” He laughed. “You wear a lot of eye makeup like Dolly Parton.” He ruffled the kitten’s fur. “Or Elizabeth; you have a white necklace like Elizabeth Taylor wears in those commercials. Lizzie—that’s cute.” He thought about it some more and then said, “No, Dolly fits you better. What do you say? We’ll have to run it by Colbi.” The tabby rolled over and exposed her furry, mostly white tummy. Damon couldn’t resist rubbing his hand along the soft fur.

  He took a deep breath and glanced over at the note he’d written with the information Savannah had given him for Craig. He picked it up and looked at it. I know where this is. I think I’ll go over there and see what I can find out. He thought about it for a minute and then decided. Yes, I can’t just sit here and do nothing. I’m going to go check these people out.

  ***

  Colbi continued to use what energy she could muster to scrape away at the hard, dried-up putty around the window pane. Suddenly she heard something on the steps outside the door. They’re coming down here. Oh no. She lowered herself to the floor, unfolded the thin mattress, and slid it over toward the far wall. She felt around for the blanket, lay down, and pulled the blanket up over her. Just then, she heard someone unlock the latch on the basement room door. As usual, the sudden blast of light blinded her. She looked away. When she turned back, she shielded her eyes and saw the obese woman walking in carrying an electric lamp. George was behind her with a flashlight.

  “Find the plug outlet, dummy,” Lida said.

  He shined the light along the wall, stopping when he spotted an outlet. She promptly plugged in the lamp and set it on the floor. She then set up her stool and plopped herself down on it. She stared over at Colbi. “You’re tryin’ to cause us a whole lot of trouble, missy. We have a good thing goin’ and we don’t need no interference from some Diane Sawyer wannabe.”

  Colbi sat up, pul
ling the blanket tightly around her legs and feet. “Look, you’ve been on the radar of animal control for a long time,” she said. “They’re aware of the scam you’re running here. Harming me won’t change that.”

  “Well, it’ll shut you up…keep you from writin’ that story.” She smirked. “We got your stuff upstairs.”

  Colbi frowned. “Stuff?”

  “The stuff you were gonna use to write the story. It will be destroyed along with you and all them stupid cats up there.”

  Colbi’s pretty face twisted as her rage accelerated. “You are the worst kind of hoarder—you don’t even have a heart for cats. You use them to extort money from those who really do care.”

  George came out of the shadows. “Watch your mouth,” he said as he backhanded her.

  She fell against the mattress and then, holding her hand alongside of her face, a mix of rage and fear shooting from her eyes, she yelled, “Pick on someone your own size, creep!”

  George started to move toward her again when his wife said, “Oh stop, George. She won’t be a problem much longer.”

  “What are you going to do to me?” Colbi asked meekly.

  “Wellll,” Lida said, smacking her lips. Her hands on her knees, she rocked back and forth against the small stool. “We’ve decided.” She looked Colbi in the eyes. “There’s gonna be a fire down here.”

  “Yeah,” George said with a grin. “A really big fire. We’re gonna burn you at the stake like the witch you are.” He laughed and then said, “And all thirteen of those cats are going to join you—get it? Cats and witches go together, right?”

  “Clever, George. Now shut up!” Lida turned her attention toward Colbi. “I want to know who else knows about this story you was gonna write.”

  Colbi dabbed at the blood oozing from her mouth. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

  “Why you…” George started toward her again, his hands out in front of him like an eagle’s claws.”

  “No George,” the woman said.

  “She can’t get away with that, can she?”

  “Not for long, George.” She stared down at Colbi. “Not for long.”