1 The Cats that Surfed the Web

by Karen Anne Golden

  “My philosophy is to go for it,” Colleen laughed.

  Katherine studied Colleen for a moment and then said, “In the course of five minutes I’ve watched you devour two muffins. Are you famished?”

  “They’re fantastic. I’ve got to have this recipe.”

  “Mark said Patricia Marston brought them over. They’re called poppy-seed muffins.”

  “Let me get you one.”

  Katherine pulled up a chair and sat down. “You’re all dressed—hair, make-up. What time did you get up?”

  “It was early. I think seven a.m. or so,” Colleen said, pouring the tea. She handed Katherine a muffin.

  She took a big bite, “Wow. These are good.”

  Colleen burst out laughing.

  “What’s so funny?” Katherine asked, spilling a large piece of muffin down her robe.

  “You’ve got black seeds stuck in your teeth.”

  “Wonderful. I’ll be flashing a big toothy smile to Mark with seeds in my teeth. No thank you,” she said, pushing the muffin aside.

  “There’s nothing in the refrigerator except some slices of ham and cheese. We’ve got to get some food.”

  “Mark is picking me up at eleven and taking me to pick up Abigail. We can do some serious shopping when I get back.”

  “Give me the keys to the car. I’ll pick up the . . . groceries.” Colleen hurried the last word, then sneezed.

  “Are you catching a cold?”

  “No, it’s the dust in this place. I don’t know who has been tidying up since the housekeeper has taken ill, but whoever it is, someone needs to explain to them that the vacuum cleaner works much better when it’s plugged in.”

  “I’ve noticed this house needs a thorough cleaning,” said Katherine.

  “So while you're off with Mr. Dreamboat, I’ll forage for food and tidy up a bit.”

  “There’s a grocery store a couple of blocks down the street. I’ll pitch in as soon as I get back. What do you think of Mark?” she asked.

  “That’s for me to know and you to find out,” Colleen said evasively. “He seems attracted to you.”

  “Think so?” Katherine prodded. “Actually he’s just doing his job. I’m sure he receives fees for managing my great aunt’s estate.”

  “Me-yowl,” Lilac said, trotting back into the kitchen.

  “Who won the steeplechase?” Katherine asked the frisky cat. Lilac leaped up onto the counter and climbed into the kitchen sink. She began to lick the faucet.

  “Yuk,” Colleen grimaced.

  “She used to do that at the apartment because there was a constant drip.”

  “Since there isn’t a drip here, allow me to find this little one an alternative.” Colleen got up and found a bowl in the cabinet. She filled it with water. Lilac lapped happily.

  “Mum would have a fit if she knew I was setting out fine china for a cat,” Colleen observed.

  Katherine picked up her saucer and looked at the bottom. “I’m impressed. Haviland,” she said.

  “Want to see something interesting?” Colleen asked, opening several overhead cabinet doors. “Haviland china, Tiffany crystal, and a brand-new toaster and blender, still in their original boxes. To me it looks like someone came in and removed all the old stuff and replaced it with new stuff.”

  “That’s okay with me,” Katherine said. “Maybe Mrs. Marston was trying to make an impression by putting the old stuff away.”

  Colleen shrugged. Scout emitted a loud “waugh” from the other room.

  “What are you doing in there?” Katherine called out, getting up and carrying her cup to the next room. Colleen, working on her third muffin, followed her into the room. Scout was busy watching Iris, who had jumped onto an oak roll-top desk and was struggling to keep her balance.

  “There’s a lot of space in this room,” Colleen observed. “I think Iris is trying to tell you to use this as your office desk. I think it could be rigged to hold your computer.”

  “Yeah, you’re right,” Katherine said, running her hand over the oak desk. “Plus I think there’d be enough room to put my printer.”

  “If not, there’s furniture elsewhere in the house you could move in here. You can do that. I mean it’s your furniture, right?” Colleen asked.

  “Not yet. Remember the big terms of the will —one year. When I see Mark, I’ll ask him if it’s okay to move the furniture.”

  “But this room is virtually empty. I think you can do whatever you like in here. If you’re going to live here for a year, I suggest you live here for a year,” she stressed. “Who cares how you rearrange the furniture?”

  “Exactly,” Katherine agreed. “What I like about this room is that there are two doors that can be closed off from the rest of the house. If the cats are driving me crazy, I can lock them out. Plus that door,” she said, pointing, “leads to a second-story sun porch. The cats will love it.”

  “Wait a minute. There’re four doors in here. Where does this one go?” Colleen asked. She tried to open the door. “It’s locked.”

  “That goes to the creepy basement. I insisted that Mark hire a locksmith to put a bolt lock on it.”

  “Why?”

  “An ounce of prevention keeps the criminals at bay.”

  Colleen giggled. Somewhere in the house, a telephone rang. Scout and Lilac scampered out of the room.

  “Katz, the phone. Where is it?”

  “I think it’s in the atrium.”

  “What’s an atrium?”

  “It’s a room off the front entrance.”

  They left the site of Katherine’s future office and headed to the atrium. The phone rang several times before Katherine answered. Iris was sitting next to it, growling.

  “Thanks, Iris,” she said, then into the phone, “Hello?”

  “Good morning,” Mark said. “I wanted to call to see how you enjoyed the first night in your new house.”

  “It was fine, but I can see I need to do a lot of cat-proofing.”

  “Or Colleen-proofing,” Marked kidded. “Any more broken lamps?” he laughed.

  “At least my cats haven’t broken anything.”

  “You’ve just jinxed it,” Colleen said in the background.

  “Accidents will happen,” he commented. “I just got a message from Dr. Sonny. He won’t be able to release Abigail until this afternoon. I was wondering if you want to get rid of the paperwork first, get your authorization added to the house expense account, then cruise back to the house to pick up Colleen, so the two of you can join me for lunch?”

  “Hold on a second,” Katherine said, covering the phone. She whispered to Colleen, who was now standing nearby. “Mark has invited us to lunch.”

  Colleen shook her head. “I’ll fix my own lunch. You two go,” she said.

  “Yes, of course, I’d be very pleased to join you for lunch,” Katherine said, “but my friend has other plans.”

  “I’ve got another call coming in. I’ll see you at eleven,” he said, hanging up.

  “Well, Ms. Murphy,” Katherine said to Colleen, “this is the first time I’ve ever known you to pass up lunch. Are you feeling okay?”

  “I’ve really blown my diet eating all those muffins. Besides I have a craving for a baked potato cooked to perfection.”

  “How can you go wrong with a baked potato?”

  “It must be slow-cooked in the oven for two hours at 325 degrees.”

  Katherine rolled her eyes. “On that note, I’m going to get dressed.”

  “Don’t forget the teeth,” Colleen teased.

  She headed for the main stairs and stopped abruptly on the bottom step. Something had crashed to the floor in the living room. “What now?” she said.

  Colleen came into the atrium holding two pieces of a broken Lladro Mother and Child figurine; the smaller piece appeared to be Mother’s head. “It wasn’t my fault this time.”

  “Oh, no. My mom used to collect these,” exclaimed Katherine. “It looks like the Peaceful Moment.”
r />   “More like a headless moment. One of your creatures was racing through the room and knocked it off the shelf.”

  Lilac belted out an ear shattering me-yowl and bolted up the stairs, four steps at a time.

  “I’ve got to catch her to make sure she doesn’t have any glass in her paws.”

  “Cats,” Colleen said ruefully, shaking her head. “And you’re getting another one.”

  * * * *

  It proved to be a long, tiring day. Mark picked Katherine up promptly and drove her to his office, in one of the Victorian storefronts on Main Street. She admired his antique furniture, particularly the oak Wooten desk, with its many cubbyholes, slots and drawers. She joked that he needed a computer program to keep track of its contents in light of its complicated design. After she signed several receipt forms, Mark handed her an estate check for thirty thousand. She endorsed it and asked if he wouldn’t mind taking her to the bank to set up an account. He joked that although the town had only two traffic lights, it did, however, have more than one bank. He suggested the bank where Katherine’s great aunt had done business for many years.

  Katherine was impressed with the friendliness of the town, but felt a little uncomfortable with strangers who either said hello to her on the street, or scrutinized her as if she were from another planet. She confessed to Mark that she could handle the greetings, but the staring routine was giving her a headache. He teased her about being a New Yorker, and she teased him about being a Hoosier. They had a quick lunch at the Red House restaurant on the edge of town, then picked up Abigail the Abyssinian.

  The veterinarian’s staff had made a colorful banner that said ‘Abby Goes Home!’ and strung it up in the front waiting room. When Dr. Sonny brought Abby out and placed her in Katherine’s arms, the feline chirped in recognition, which sent Katherine into a cat cooing session lasting a full five minutes. Valerie, the receptionist, had put a green satin ribbon around Abby’s neck, which complimented the ruddy, ticked color of her fur. Dr. Sonny said good-bye to his feline guest of almost two months, and Valerie gave one last pet to the purring Abyssinian.

  Katherine placed Abby in the cardboard cat carrier the veterinarian clinic supplied. She was surprised Abby didn't resist, and remarked that the Siamese would have not gone in so willingly. Dr. Sonny suggested that Abigail knew she was going home. Mark, who had stood by quietly, said he thought so, too.

  On the way back to the mansion, Mark suggested a late dinner at the Italian restaurant in the city, but Katherine declined. She explained she wanted to spend quality time with Abby, as well as Colleen, who would be going back to New York the following Saturday. When he dropped her off at the side door, he offered to carry Abigail inside, but Katherine said she was able. He said that if she needed anything, she should not hesitate to call. Katherine smiled and thanked him. Mark put the Honda in reverse and backed out the drive.

  Katherine climbed the steps to the covered carport door and stood on the top stair, fumbling for the right key. Abigail began chirping, so Katherine gave up the search and clanged the ancient doorbell instead. Colleen opened the door, wearing a summertime barbecue apron over a green turtleneck sweater and a pair of tartan slacks.

  Katherine stifled a laugh. “Where did you get that hideous looking thing?”

  “I bought it at Alex’s all-purpose hardware store—three bucks. Don’t you think I’ll set a new Erie fashion statement?”

  Katherine set the cat carrier on top of the dining room table. “Something smells delicious.”

  “Try this on for size—tonight I’ll be serving roast beef, steamed carrots, topped with an official, properly baked, potato. Is this the new fur ball?” she said, wiping her hands on her new apron. She peered into the cardboard cat carrier. “For the love of Mary, she’s got bangs.”

  “Bangs?”

  “On top of her head. They're spiked. Look,” Colleen said, pointing.

  “Those are stripes, not spikes,” Katherine corrected. “Isn’t she beautiful?”

  Abigail chirped.

  “Did you hear that?” Colleen asked.

  “That’s how she meows. Where are my other creatures?” she said, looking around.

  “They were sleeping on your bed, so I simply closed the door. I figured you would want to introduce them to Ms. Bangs gradually,” she said, tongue-in-cheek.

  “Probably a good idea.” Katherine opened the carrier door and expected Abigail to leap out, but was surprised when the cat remained inside.

  “Come on, Abby. This is your home, remember?”

  The Abyssinian squeezed her almond-shaped eyes, but would not budge.

  “Please come out,” she coaxed.

  “Come out, darling,” Colleen said, imitating Katherine.

  Slowly Abigail sauntered out, eyeing Colleen suspiciously. She sprang off the table, darted into the living room, and began rubbing her neck on the furniture.

  “I need to tend to my roast. Come in and I’ll make some tea,” Colleen declared as she walked back into the kitchen.

  “I’ll be right there.” Katherine followed Abigail into the living room. “Are you happy to be home?”

  Abigail came over and bumped against Katherine’s legs. “Chirp,” she trilled.

  Katherine picked up the cat and cradled it in her arms, pulling and rubbing the fur on the back of her neck. Abby purred and squeezed her gold eyes. Then suddenly, with the full force of her back legs, she catapulted off Katherine and bounded up the stairs in a blur of ruddy brown. On the top landing of the stairwell, she belted out a loud sharp squeak, and then thundered down the hall. Katherine shrugged. A fourth cat for the steeplechase, she thought.

  She joined Colleen in the kitchen and noticed several grocery bags on the floor. “I really appreciate your getting the groceries. Did I give you enough money?”

  “Yes, with change to spare. I’m not sure people speak English around here.”

  “Why?”

  “I had a hard time communicating at the grocery store. When I asked a clerk where the soda was, he directed me to the baking soda aisle. When I explained I wanted a soda—a diet soda—he said they didn’t sell pop, but there were several machines up the block that did. I explained that a pop in New York was candy on a stick, and he said in Indiana that was a sucker. Did you know that in this state, bags are called sacks?”

  “That's incredible,” Katherine agreed. “Hey look, the kettle is boiling.”

  “Not until it sings,” Colleen said.

  “Sings?”

  “It has to be boiling properly.”

  “For proper tea,” Katherine teased.

  Abigail ran through the kitchen carrying a yarn-covered ball with a bell on it. She dropped it at Katherine’s feet.

  “Thank you,” she said, reaching down and petting the cat. Abigail bounded out of the room and shortly returned with a catnip-stuffed mouse. She jumped up onto the table, dropped it, then leaped off, racing into the dining room.

  “What’s with that cat?” Colleen asked.

  “She’s showing me her toys. She must have a secret stash somewhere like Iris had in Manhattan,” Katherine said, then added, “I think I’ll skip the tea. I’m really tired all of a sudden.”

  “Not me,” Colleen said. “I’ve been so incredibly rejuvenated today. I think I'll get my coat on and take a walk.”

  “It’s freezing outside,” Katherine warned.

  “After a bit of tea,” she pronounced, “a nice brisk walk will do you good.”

  “I think I’ll briskly walk upstairs and join the Siamese for a little catnap.”

  “In their case, I think it’s more like a siesta. They’ve been catnapping for hours.”

  Katherine chuckled. “Can you keep an eye on Abby?”

  “Sure. I’ll call you when dinner is ready.”

  “Wonderful,” Katherine said, leaving the kitchen. She almost stumbled over Abigail, who was now playing with a tiny caged ball with a bell in it. Abby gave the toy a hard whack, which sent the ball and b
ell clanging underneath the Eastlake sideboard. Abby chirped and dashed into the living room. Katherine followed her. Abigail trotted over to the turret window and found a shaft of sunlight falling through it. She settled on her haunches, stretched her head and neck to the sunlight, and closed her eyes.

  “I'll leave you here to bask,” Katherine said.

  “Chirp,” Abby said softly, without opening her eyes.

  Katherine studied Abby for a moment and thought about how attached she was to her already. Walking upstairs, she quietly opened the bedroom door and found three Siamese sleeping in a huddle on the tall bed. Katherine crawled on top of the bed and curled up beside them. She fell asleep immediately. She slept for several hours when Colleen shouted from the foot of the stairs.

  “Dinner is served,” she said dramatically. “Katz and all kitty cats proceed to the kitchen.”

  “Okay,” Katherine said sleepily. Opening her eyes, she discovered a fourth feline party in her bed—a ruddy, gold-eyed beauty, sleeping idyllically, paw-to-paw with Lilac.

  “What a lovely twosome,” she admired.

  Iris stormed out from under the covers, observed the interloper, and hissed ferociously. Abigail held her ground while Lilac quivered and began to whine.

  “Iris, be nice,” Katherine warned.

  “Asp,” Abigail said menacingly.

  Katherine said to Abigail, “That’s Iris, not Isis,” and then to Iris, “Iris, this is Abby. Abby is the princess of the Nile, and you my snarling beauty are the princess of Siam.”

  “Hiss,” Iris replied loudly.

  “Asp.” Abigail now sounded merely suspicious.

  Iris leaped off of the bed and took a position on the floor, where she could watch the newcomer's every move.

  Scout, who was sleeping on Katherine's side, opened one eye, emitted a “waugh,” then went back to sleep. Abigail licked the frightened Lilac on the head. Katherine moved them next to Scout and they continued their bathing session. She got out of bed and made her way downstairs.

  Colleen and Katherine relaxed over dinner and spent the rest of the evening in the parlor, sipping hot chocolate in front of the fireplace. Their quiet time was interrupted several times by cat spats in other rooms, mostly between Iris and Abigail. The throaty rumble of Iris’s growls and snarls, and the counter-defensive chirping of Abigail became progressively less frequent, as even the pugnacious Iris seemed to bore of the confrontations. Abigail held her own and was not the least bit intimidated by the loud bluffs of the seal-point Siamese.