Cats in the Belfry

by Patricia Fry

  “Maybe a long time ago.” Margaret shrugged. “…or not. I don’t recall hearing or reading anything concrete, just fleeting rumors, mostly.” She shivered with excitement. “As Nola indicated, it’s supposed to be haunted.”

  “She indicated that?”

  “Well, yes. What do you think scared her and her friends away that night she told us about?”

  “Sounds,” Savannah said. “She just mentioned some sort of odd sound.”

  “Ghostly sounds,” Margaret said.

  “And you still want to come out here at night?”

  After thinking about it for a moment, Margaret said, “Look around. Do you see anything frightening here?”

  “Yeah, seems completely abandoned. There sure doesn’t appear to be anything weird going on. It’s just a refuge for cats. That’s all.” Suddenly, she jumped a little in her chair and whispered, “Hey, look.”

  Margaret turned in time to see the white cat eating the few treats they’d poured into a bowl. Once the cat had finished, she gazed at the two women and Savannah promptly offered her more of the treats.

  “Oh goodie, here she comes,” Margaret said under her breath.

  It took some coaxing, but Savannah was finally able to get her hands on the cat and she put her into a carrier. “I do believe she’s with kittens,” she said. “Her tummy’s pretty lumpy.”

  “Bummer,” Margaret said. “Well, one down. Let’s see if we can find those other pregnant females we saw.”

  “One was under the building, wasn’t she? Didn’t we see her in the crawlspace?” Savannah asked, standing up. “She actually seemed pretty calm. Gosh, I hope we can get all of the pregnant females to a safe place. The babies would be so vulnerable out here.” She started to walk toward the crawl hole when suddenly she stopped and cocked her head. “Did you hear that?”

  “What?” Margaret asked.

  “Kittens. I think I hear kittens.” Savannah walked in the direction of the sound. As she approached a large, mostly dead shrub, she was startled by a tiger-striped cat that leaped out of hiding and ran off. Savannah walked closer. “Here they are,” she said, lifting a piece of cardboard that lay across the top of the shrub. “Look at this, their momma made a little nest for them. Let’s see, there are three…no, four kittens about maybe three-and-a-half-weeks old. Do you want to take them?”

  “Sure do,” Margaret said. “But we need to get the mom too. We’ll put this little family in foster care until the kittens are old enough to adopt.”

  “Okay,” Savannah said, picking up two of the kittens with her glove-protected hands.

  Margaret snatched the other two and noticed that the mother cat was crouched just inside the crawl hole watching fretfully. Once the kittens were safely, although not happily, placed in a large carrier, the women began pursuing the mother cat. While she was definitely interested in the treats Savannah offered, she seemed frightened and unsure.

  “Hey, let’s show her the kittens,” Savannah suggested. “Maybe she’ll come closer if we bring the kittens out here.”

  “Good thinking, Vannie.” When Savannah started to head toward the car, Margaret followed after her. “Hey, I’ll get them. You don’t need to be carrying that bulky carrier.”

  The two women patiently worked with the mother cat for several minutes until Margaret was finally able to get her hands on her. With Savannah’s help, she put her into the large carrier with the kittens.

  “There’s another pregnant female,” Savannah said when she saw a tortoiseshell cat with a bulging tummy walk cautiously up to the food dish, where Savannah had sprinkled more kitty treats. As Margaret took the carrier back to the car, Savannah moved closer to the tortie, shaking the treat bag in an attempt to get her attention. “Come on, girl,” she crooned from a distance. “Let us help you and your babies.” When the cat seemed mildly curious, Savannah perched on a low wall near the feeding station, poured a few kitty treats into her hand, and held it toward the cat. She tossed a kibble closer to the tortie and watched her gobble it down. She lobbed another treat closer to herself and the cat moved cautiously forward, all the while keeping her eyes on Savannah. It wasn’t long before the cat was eating out of Savannah’s hand and she was able to pick up the tortoiseshell cat and slip her into a carrier.

  “Wow!” Margaret said. “This was one successful day. It appears that we have all of the kittens and the mothers with kittens imminent. And this is only our first day.”

  “Are you sure we found all of the litters? I think we should walk the grounds again and see if there are any still hiding,” Savannah suggested.

  “Good idea.” Margaret motioned. “Why don’t you go that way? I’ll take the high road.”

  Savannah had walked almost halfway around the building, checking dense brush areas, debris piles, inside and around a few abandoned cars and among machinery that she couldn’t identify, when something skittered across her path. A rat? she thought. Maybe a squirrel or a rabbit. She chuckled. Probably not, with so many cats living out here. Curiosity got the best of her and she decided to investigate. Heck, I just saw it out the corner of my eye and there’s a breeze. It could have been a leaf blowing across the ground. However, after searching the area for a few moments, she saw a pair of round blue eyes peering at her through the spokes of an old bicycle. “Well, hello there,” Savannah cooed. “Wanna come out and play?” She reached among the spiderwebs and weeds and, to her delight, retrieved an adorable eight-week-old buff-and-brown pointed kitten. She scoured the area, hoping to spot others or maybe a mother cat, but saw nothing. So she continued around the building to meet up with her aunt and was surprised to see Margaret cradling a black-and-white kitten of about the same age. “Aha,” Savannah said, “siblings, I presume.”

  “Probably,” Margaret agreed. “Where’d you find that one?”

  “Just around the corner there. And you?”

  “Up against the building, behind an old crate. Do you think we should look for more?”

  Savannah nodded. “It would be a good idea. Let’s put these wiggle worms into a carrier, shall we?” She crooned to the kitten she held, “It may seem scary now, little one, but I think you’ll be much happier and definitely much safer in a loving home than out here in this desolate no-man’s land.”

  “Amen,” Margaret said. She scrutinized the two kittens. “A bath, a medical exam, and some good food, and you two will be prime candidates for adoption.”

  “Don’t forget their little snip-snip,” Savannah reminded her.

  “Shhh,” Margaret said. “Don’t say that in front of them. You’ll scare them.”

  “Like they aren’t already scared.” Savannah held the kitten close. “But they’re not aggressive. Yes, I think they’re quite adoptable. Lucky kitties.”

  After managing to nab a few more rather docile cats, the women agreed that they’d better fill the bowls with food and water and be on their way with the kittens, the moms, and the moms-to-be.

  “Same time tomorrow?” Margaret asked.

  “Yes. Helena will be doing some light housecleaning for me in the morning and she likes to have Lily keep her company.” She focused on her aunt. “What’s the plan? Will you start trapping tomorrow?”

  “Possibly. I’d like to get more information from Andy about the cats that are still out here. I also want to observe how much the cats eat and drink overnight. That will give us an idea of how many are actually here. Then we need to isolate the tame ones from the more frightened ones and identify those that may need medical attention. I’d like to take any sick ones first. Once we start trapping, you never know which ones you’ll end up with. And I prefer the hands-on approach as much as possible. Trapping, while of course doesn’t harm the cats, is kind of…what would you say…?”

  “Well, it’s probably rather frightening and insulting to the cats. So you think we should spend more time observing them, right?”

  Margaret nodded. “Want to call your husband and see if he can come by our place on his w
ay home and check all these guys out?”

  Savannah removed her cell phone from her pocket. “Sure.” Into the phone, she said, “Hi, hon. I’m surprised you answered. Are you on a break?”

  “Just finishing up some paperwork. The next patient is scheduled for after lunch, around one. How are you?”

  “Good. We have some patients for you. Can you stop by Max’s and Auntie’s on your way home this afternoon?”

  “Tame ones, huh?” he asked.

  “Yeah, some are a little feisty. They’re obviously not used to being loved on, but they don’t seem aggressive. We have six kittens, a couple of teenagers, one mother cat, and three that are about ready to burst with kittens probably anytime, and…” she thought for a moment. “Oh yes, one intact male adult.”

  “Hey, that’s quite a haul on your first visit out there. Good job.”

  “Yup, we’re on a roll. I just hope the rest of the project goes as smoothly.”

  ****

  Late that afternoon as Savannah tossed a salad for supper, Michael stepped in through the side kitchen door. “Hi, hon,” he greeted, kissing her.

  “Daddy,” their two-year-old called, pushing away from her small table where she’d been playing with a musical puzzle.

  Hi, punkin.” He picked her up and hugged her. “How’s my girl?”

  “Airplane, Daddy!” Lily shouted excitedly. “Airplane!”

  “Okay,” he agreed, spinning around with Lily in his arms. When he put her on the floor a few minutes later, she ran toward the living room. “Daddy’s shoes! I get Daddy’s shoes!” She returned carrying his flip-flops and placed them on the floor next to him.

  Michael smiled. “Thank you, punkin.” Before he could slip into them, Rags walked up, sniffed the flip-flops, and stretched out across the top of them.

  “No, Rags!” Lily screeched. “No! Daddy’s shoes.”

  The couple laughed when Lily sat down behind Rags and tried to push him off the flip-flops. When the two-year-old began to cry in frustration, Savannah lifted the cat and snuggled with him. Lily wiped her tears, picked up the shoes, and handed them to Michael. “Sit, Daddy,” Lily insisted. “Put on shoes.”

  “Okay, if you say so,” he teased.

  Savannah chuckled upon releasing Rags, saying to Michael, “Hon, I think you’ve become too predictable.”

  He looked up from the kitchen chair. “What do you mean?”

  “She knows that as soon as you come in from work, you change into your flip-flops. Next, she’ll be handing you your phone so you can check for a text from Keith.”

  “Huh?”

  “That’s the second thing you do every evening—check for a text from Keith or a call from Aggie.”

  He smiled slyly. “I guess I do, don’t I? Well, my brother and I have a lot to catch up on—over thirty-five years of memories we didn’t get to share.”

  “I know,” she said tenderly, bending down and kissing him. She patted his face playfully. “And you and Aggie seem to have a lot to talk about too.”

  He nodded. “I never knew a grandmother could be so cool.” He looked at Lily. “I’m so glad she has your mom and your aunt, who’s kind of like a grandmother to her. And soon she’ll have a chance to get to know her great grandmother Aggie.”

  “Oh?” Savannah said, sounding surprised. “Does she know when she’s coming here?”

  “Probably around the time the baby’s due, if that’s okay with you.”

  “I’d welcome her. She’s a delight.”

  Before she could turn away, he grabbed her hand and kissed her palm. “I sure do love you.”

  She winked at him. “Me too.” She gazed at their toddler, who was engaged in her puzzle again, then poured a glass of iced tea and set it in front of Michael.

  “Thanks, hon.” He took a sip of the tea, then studied the glass. “Gosh, I guess I am becoming predictable.” He tilted his head and looked at her as she returned to the kitchen counter. “Is that a bad thing?”

  “Not as far as I’m concerned. What would I do if I couldn’t count on you to come home to us every evening?”

  He smiled. “Well, good. I like my routine.” He took another swig, then said, “I saw the products of your work today.”

  “Huh?”

  “The cats and kittens from the seminary. They’re actually in pretty good shape, from what I can tell. We have to wait for the test results, but they seem pretty clean and healthy…well, except for the white one.” He chuckled. “Looks like she lost a tug-of-war over a mud puddle. But she’ll clean up. Those are some nice batches of kittens. Let’s hope they all find good homes.” After taking another sip from his glass, Michael focused on Lily. “Are you having a tea party? Finished with your puzzle?”

  She pointed at his glass. “Daddy tea.”

  “Yes. Daddy has tea. Are you serving your dolly tea?”

  “Kitty,” she said. “Rags kitty.”

  “Is Rags coming to your tea party?”

  Lily nodded. She looked under her little table and demanded, “Rags, drink tea.”

  “Where is Rags?” Michael asked.

  Lily peered under the table again and pointed.

  When Michael leaned over, he could see the lanky cat lying behind one of the small chairs next to a plastic cup and saucer from Lily’s tea set.

  “Oh, I see the kitty’s having tea with you, isn’t he?”

  Lily nodded and proceeded to stir the imaginary tea in one of her little cups.

  “How’re you coming on his memoir?” Michael asked Savannah.

  “Okay, I guess. But I’m sure rusty. I haven’t written anything of any magnitude since college.” She sat down across from him at the table. “I’m thinking about signing up for a creative writing course. There are a couple at the community college, but I’m kind of drawn to the one at the art center. It sounds more intimate—more in line with what I need.”

  “Don’t you think a writing course might confuse you?”

  “Confuse me?”

  “I mean, you have your own style. You don’t want someone trying to teach you a different style of writing. Your stories won’t come across as sincere, will they?”

  “Oh, I hadn’t thought of that.” Savannah chuckled. “But I don’t know that I have a style.”

  “Sure you do,” Michael insisted. “You have a style of walking, talking, and I’m sure you also have a specific style in your writing.”

  “I suppose. So you don’t think a writing brush-up course would help me?”

  He leaned back in his chair. “It could be that you just need a confidence boost. And yeah, you might get that from a class. If that’s what you want to do, you should do it.”

  “Yes, I think I’ll sign up. The first class starts Wednesday night.”

  “At night?”

  She nodded. “At seven. Only…”

  “Only what?” he asked.

  “Well, I stopped by the art center to ask a few questions and happened to meet the instructor. Her curriculum sounds pretty much in alignment with what I’m looking for, but…

  “But what?”

  “Well…” Savannah swallowed hard, “she seemed a little…um…odd.”

  “In what way?” He laughed. “You know it’s not unusual for an artist to be odd.”

  “Yeah, I guess so. For some, their oddness is their charm.” She crinkled her nose. “Oddness. Is that a word?” She shook her head. “See, I need help with my word choices and I hope to learn how to string my words together to make the story interesting.”

  Michael punched the air with his fist, asserting, “Confidence, that’s what you need.”

  “Maybe.”

  “So tell me about the teacher. What struck you as odd?”

  “Well, she’s probably in her fifties and kind of on the plump side.” Savannah squinted and added, “She knows how to dress for her size and she has a sort of flamboyance about her.”

  “Flamboyance?” he questioned.

  “Yeah, she has crazy ha
ir. I don’t know if I can learn much from someone with blue and purple spiky hair. How can I take her seriously?”

  Michael grinned at his wife. “It’s the style some people choose these days.”

  “Yeah, celebrities, motorcycle chicks, hippies, and young women seeking their own identity. But I don’t expect to see that among teachers and other professionals.” Savannah thought for a moment before saying, “Actually, she isn’t a bono-fide teacher. She’s self-taught. She sort of came up by the seat of her pants, which is one thing that attracted me to her class in the beginning.” She frowned when adding, “…until I saw her.”

  “Savannah, are you prejudiced? Do you judge a book by its cover?”

  “No!” She paused. “At least I don’t think so. Do I?” When Michael didn’t respond, she explained, “It isn’t just her hair and her overdone makeup and her tattoos…”

  “Oh, tattoos too, huh?”

  “Yes,” Savannah said adamantly. “Does she know what those tattoos will look like as she ages? That soaring eagle on her arm will become a wrinkled old pigeon when she’s eighty!”

  “Does she care?” he asked, playing devil’s advocate.

  “I suppose not.” She smiled. “I actually find her kind of interesting. She seems knowledgeable, but…”

  “But what? What is it that has you concerned?”

  “She seems a little stand-offish—unfriendly—like detached.”

  “I think you’ve been hanging around Rochelle for too long,” Michael suggested. “You’re starting to read things into people and situations that maybe aren’t there.”

  She wrinkled her brow. “Like what?”

  “Like when you said that Peter isn’t the marrying kind and he’d never get married. I think you said the same thing about Harrison. And now both Peter and Harrison are married.”

  She tilted her head. “Oh that’s right, Peter and Rochelle got married.”

  He nodded. “Yup. I talked to Peter a couple of days ago. They’re now Mr. and Mrs. Peter Whitcomb.”

  “Wow! I’ll have to pick up something to send them.” She sat in contemplation for a moment. “Well, I guess if the timing’s right and the perfect person comes along…”