by Bill H Myers
After the first mouse, I got him two more. I figured if they kept him entertained and helped him burn off energy as he chased them around the motorhome, it would be good for both of us. And should a real mouse ever appear, Bob would be ready.
It wasn't long after I got him the second toy mouse that Bob began seeing the motorhome as his kingdom. He saw me as a member of his royal staff, there to serve his needs. He no longer hid when I was around. Instead, as soon as I sat on the couch, he'd jump into my lap and expect me to pet him.
And I would.
I explained to Bob that this wouldn't last forever, that his person would soon return and take him away, but he didn't seem too concerned about it. He just ate and pooped and slept and played with his growing collection of cotton mice. He was living the good life in the motorhome.
Weeks passed and the woman who'd left him with me, had yet to come to get him. I tried calling but her number had been disconnected. When I called her friends, they all said the same thing. She'd moved on. No forwarding address, no phone number.
It finally dawned on me that I was stuck with Mango Bob and it was up to me to decide what to do with him. Living with a cat full time wasn't part of my plan. Even a special one like Mango Bob. But I didn't want to dump him on the side of the road nor did I want to sentence him to a cage in an animal shelter.
So I kept him and he's been with me ever since.
It could have been worse. Instead of ending up with Mango Bob, I could have ended up with the girl who left him with me. Pretty sure that wouldn't have worked out nearly as well.
As it turned out, Mango Bob really is a special cat. He's smart, easy to live with, has a large vocabulary, and seems to like living in the motorhome. His favorite places are my bed in the back, the spot next to me on the couch, and when I'm driving, the passenger seat beside me.
I'm not sure what he does when I'm not in the motorhome with him. I'm guessing he mostly sleeps. Cats do that a lot. But Bob has this special sense—he knows when I'm coming back and is almost always waiting for me at the door when I arrive.
So I wasn't surprised he was there when I got back after having lunch with Lori. I could see him inside, standing on the kitchen counter, looking out the window.
He knows he's not supposed to be up on the counter and doesn't get up there when I'm inside. But when I'm away, he has his own rules.
When I opened the door he had already moved over to the couch, and was sitting there licking his paw, acting like he hadn't been on the counter. He pretended he couldn’t care less I was back. But I knew better. He liked having company. Me being back in the motorhome pleased him. I gave him a few pets and headed to the back bedroom.
I'd already decided it might be a good idea to do some laundry before we headed to Key West. Lori would be spending a lot of time in the motorhome, so clean sheets and clean towels were a must.
I stripped the bed and used one of the pillow cases as my laundry bag. I filled it with towels from the bathroom along with the pile of dirty clothes I'd been meaning to wash. There wasn't a washer and dryer in the motorhome, which meant I'd be using the ones in the Mango Bay laundry room.
After grabbing a handful of quarters from the baggie in the junk drawer, I swung the laundry bag over my shoulder and headed out. The laundry room is in the same building as Mango Bay's office and just a short walk from my motorhome site.
With more than a hundred guests staying at Mango Bay and most of them not having washers or dryers in their RVs, the machines in the laundry room stay pretty busy. I was hoping to find one or two not in use.
As it turned out, it was my lucky day. Three of the washers were available. I dumped my laundry into two of them, poured in detergent, and pushed quarters in the coin slots. With the washers up and running, I had forty minutes before I needed to move the clothes to the dryers.
I decided to use the time to go to the office and let Polly and Buck, Mango Bay's owners, know I was going to Key West.
Chapter Eight
When I opened the door to the office, Polly was sitting behind the counter, staring at her computer screen. Buck, her significant other, was sitting across the room in a recliner, reading a novel.
Polly looked up and said, “So, you're going to Key West.”
It wasn't a question. It was a statement of fact.
I nodded. “News travels fast around here.”
She smiled. “Yes it does. Lori called right after she talked to you. She said you were leaving in the morning.”
“We are. Around eight. We're taking the motorhome. Probably be gone two or three days. Be back on Wednesday.”
Polly looked at Buck. “Should we tell him or let it be a surprise?”
Buck put his novel down and said, “Tell him. He has a right to know.”
I looked at Polly. “Tell me what? What do I need to know?”
She shook her head. “Walker, did Lori tell you why she wanted you to go to Key West?”
I nodded. “Yeah, she said she wanted to see her sister and wanted me to talk to a guy who’s been bothering her.”
Polly smiled. “Well, at least she told you most of the story. Did she say anything else about the guy you're supposed to talk to?”
“No. She just said some guy was causing problems for her sister and maybe if I talked to him the problem would go away.”
Polly looked at Buck and he nodded. They were in agreement about something. “Walker, you ever been to Key West?”
I hadn't. “No, never. But I'm looking forward to it.”
She smiled again. “Key West is a different kind of place. It's kind of like its own little country with its own set of rules. That's why it attracts certain kinds of people. The kind that might stand out anywhere else. In Key West, even the weirdest fit in. You'll see what I mean when you get there.
“The other thing about Key West is the police. They do it differently in Key West. For the most part, they leave the locals alone; let them solve their problems on their own. They are more concerned about the tourists. They want them to spend money, have a good time and not get hurt. As long as they do that, everyone is happy.”
I nodded. “Okay, so Key West is different. What does this have to do with me?”
Polly looked over at Buck and shook her head. Then she looked back at me. “Walker, you're going down there to talk to a local. Have you ever considered that the guy you're supposed to talk to might be connected? That he might be part of a bigger organization?”
“You mean like the mob? You think this guy might be connected to the mob? In Key West?”
Polly nodded. “He could be. Or he could be part of the Key Lime cartel. Or he could just be a lone wolf trying to scare up some cash. Whatever he is, you're probably going to need some help from someone who has connections in Key West, the kind it takes to get things done without involving the police.
“That's why I think you should take Buck with you.”
“Buck? Why Buck?”
“Because he knows people down there. The kind who can get things done.”
I knew about Buck's background. He'd been a famous movie star, known for a series of tough-guy-on-the-road films. He'd been a top box office draw for twenty years. But he got old and Hollywood didn't need him anymore. Neither did any of his four ex-wives.
Buck left Hollywood and returned to his roots in Florida, living in his tour bus, surviving on what was left of his movie royalties after his ex-wives got their cut.
Even though he was in his seventies, he was still pretty active. He didn't shy away from trouble, something I'd learned firsthand when he had gone with me to help recover Polly's stolen dog.
With his connections, I wouldn't mind having him along on the trip but wondered how Lori would feel about having another person living in the motorhome with us. It would definitely complicate the sleeping arrangements.
I mentioned this to Polly and she laughed. “Walker, when Lori called this morning and said you were taking her to Key West, I told her Buck k
new a lot of people down there. The kind of people who could work outside of the law to get problems solved.
“She asked me if Buck would consider going along. It was her idea. She wanted me to try to talk you into taking him. She wanted you to think it was your idea, not hers.
“So, what do you think? Do you want Buck to go with you?”
I wasn't surprised Polly and Lori had already talked about it. They were pretty close and the first person Lori had called about the Key West trip was Polly. If Polly and Lori thought it was a good idea to take Buck, it was okay with me.
I turned to Buck. “You want to go to Key West?”
He smiled. “I'm already packed. I'll be at your place at eight in the morning.”
Chapter Nine
After finishing the laundry, I headed back to the motorhome. As usual, Bob was waiting for me at the door.
I greeted him by saying, “Bob we're heading out in the morning and you're going to have company. What do you think about that?”
He sniffed my pants leg then said, “Murrrfff?”
I figured he might be asking who would be going with us so I told him.
“Bob, it's your friends, Lori and Buck. You remember them, don't you? You slept on the couch with Lori when we went to the Everglades. And you napped with Buck when he was here for our kidnapper meeting.”
Bob licked at his paw and said, “Murrrrrrff.”
Either he remembered or he was losing interest in our conversation. He turned and headed to the back bedroom and I followed, carrying the bag of clean clothes, warm from the dryer.
I dumped the laundry on the bed and quickly sorted the clothes and put them away. I hung clean towels in the bath and put the extras in the top of my closet. All that was left was the sheets.
Putting clean sheets on the bed is one of Bob's favorite games. He'll stand on the side of the bed waiting for me to flap the sheets in the air to get the wrinkles out. As the sheet settles down onto the mattress, he'll jump on the bed and slip under the sheet. He'll lay there motionless until I touch the sheet, and then he attacks.
From under the sheet, he'll grab at my hand and I'll have to be quick to keep from getting scratched. Only once has he really gotten into me, and even then he retracted his claws, not wanting to hurt me too badly.
That day he played the game well. He hunkered down under the sheet and attacked as I tapped different places on the bed. We kept it up for about five minutes. After that, I tapped on the side of the mattress and Bob slid out onto the floor.
I could tell he’d enjoyed the game and wanted more. His little stub of a tail was the giveaway. It twitched from side to side as he prepared to pounce. He seemed to know I still had one more sheet to go.
When I flapped out the top sheet, the game started anew. Bob was up in the bed and under the sheet, ready to attack again. I played along, tapping at different points and letting him grab at my hand. He was fast and I had to be careful. Eventually we both grew tired and the game ended. He remained under the sheet purring loudly, certain he had won.
Leaving him to celebrate his victory, I headed back up front to see what I needed to do to get the motorhome ready for the trip. Other than putting a few things away and wiping down the kitchen counters, not much was needed. For the most part, Bob and I keep a fairly clean house.
Looking around the inside the motorhome I started thinking what it would be like to have both Buck and Lori staying with me in the small space for a few days. My twenty-eight-foot Winnebago was the perfect size for one or two people. It had a bed and bath in the back and a couch up front that folded out into a bed. It could accommodate three to four people, as long those people didn't mind sleeping two to a bed.
With Buck along, Lori and I would have to sleep together in the back bedroom, and Buck would sleep up front on the couch. I wasn't sure how Lori would feel about this arrangement. According to her, we were friends without benefits and sleeping next to me in a bed might be a problem for her.
But since it was her idea to ask Buck to go with us, she could live with the consequences. It wouldn't bother me to sleep beside her. In fact, I might enjoy it. No doubt she'd have something to say about it, but one thing was for sure. I was sleeping on the bed, not the couch. She could work out the rest. I was sure she'd want to talk to me about before we left.
Instead of worrying about it, I got out my laptop, set it on the kitchen table and powered it up. Even though I had a pretty good idea how to get to Key West, I wanted to check the directions on Google Maps to be sure.
I entered Englewood as the starting point and Key West as the final destination. I clicked “Directions” and Google filled the screen with a map showing the best driving route. The distance was three hundred sixty-four miles, with an estimated drive time of six hours and thirty-one minutes. The route showed about seventy miles of interstate highway, the rest being back roads.
According to Google, it'd be an easy one-day drive. If we left at eight in the morning, we'd be there well before dark. Getting there before dark was important because it was a lot easier to get the motorhome backed into a campsite and hooked up to shore power in the daylight.
Satisfied with the route shown by Google, I checked my email, cleared out the spam and turned off the computer. I went outside, cleaned the motorhome's windshield, checked the air in the tires and made sure everything was ready for the trip. Even after doing all this, I still needed to burn off some energy. It was like this every time I got ready for a long trip in the motorhome. For me, it's like the night before Christmas. I think about the adventure that lies just ahead and all the surprises it might bring.
To burn off some of this excitement, I grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, put my phone and keys in my pocket and headed out for a walk. My plan was to get on Old Englewood Road, follow it to Dearborn Street, circle through Indian Mound Park and then head back to the motorhome.
I'd followed this route many times and it always reminded me of why I liked living in Florida. Most of the way, the dark blue waters of the Intracoastal were on my right and in the distance the white beaches of Manasota Key. Palms lining the route swayed in the breeze and provided much appreciated shade.
The houses along the way were mostly small, Key West style homes with tin roofs and colorful shutters, their yards filled with tropical plants with an occasional boat in the driveway. Every person I saw would wave, smile or say, “Hello.” In Englewood, it seemed everyone was happy. Including me.
As I walked through this little piece of paradise, I couldn't help but think about the upcoming trip to Key West. As I mentioned, every trip in the motorhome is an adventure, but, for some reason, I started feeling uneasy about this one.
Maybe the prospect of talking to the guy who was causing problems for Summer was the reason. Or maybe it was something else. I couldn't pin it down. Whatever it was, I couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't quite right.
Later that evening, after watching the weather on channel thirteen and seeing the forecast for clear skies and no rain, I relaxed. The weather was in our favor, the roads were in good shape and the motorhome was ready for the trip. We had a campsite waiting for us in Key West and I'd be going with friends. What could be better?
After eating dinner and reading a few chapters of Laurence Shames' latest novel, I set my alarm for seven, and turned in for the night.
Chapter Ten
At six fifteen the next morning, with the sun just peeking over the horizon, Bob jumped up onto the bed and tapped me on the ear with his paw. A light tap, just enough for me to know he was there.
I was still asleep and the touch didn't fully register. So he tapped again, this time using a bit more force. Enough to get my full attention. I rolled over, opened my eyes and saw him sitting beside my head, staring at me. His right paw was raised, ready to strike again.
I reached out, put my hand over his paw and said, “Bob, that's enough, I'm awake.”
For Bob it was mission accomplished. He wanted
to wake me and he'd gotten the job done. Somehow he understood we were leaving on a road trip and he didn't want me to oversleep. Cats are smart that way. At least Bob is.
I rolled over and sat up on the side of the bed. Morning light was starting to sneak in under the blinds. I stroked Bob's back and he leaned in, wanting more. I gave him a few more pets then said, “Bob, I've got things to do. You stay here and defend the bed while I get ready.”
He said, “Murrrph.” He liked defending the bed.
I hit the bathroom and took care of morning business. Brushed my teeth, washed my face, and ran my hand through my hair. My phone showed it to be six thirty, plenty of time to get in a run before breakfast.
I put on yesterday's T-shirt and shorts, pulled on my running shoes and headed up front. I grabbed a cold bottle of water from the fridge, took a few sips, and headed outside. It was cooler than expected. Florida can fool you that way. You always think it is going to be warm, but even in April the mornings can be cool.
I ran the same path I'd walked the day before. First to Dearborn Street then to Indian Mound Park and then a loop back to Mango Bay. An easy three miles.
I started out slow, giving my body a chance to warm up. As soon as my breathing settled into a steady rhythm, I picked up the pace. Three miles would take less than twenty minutes.
There wasn't much traffic on my chosen route. There rarely is in Englewood, especially early in the morning. Mostly pickup trucks heading to the ramp at Indian Mound Park with a boat in tow. The boaters would soon be out on the waters of Lemon Bay. The braver souls would head south on the Intracoastal, weave though the submerged trees of Stump Pass and then venture out onto the waters of the Gulf of Mexico.
If they kept going south, they'd eventually reach Key West. By boat it would take maybe two days. Longer if they were sailing. In my motorhome, I'd get there a lot quicker. If all went well, I'd be there before nightfall.
