by Patricia Fry
That decided and Rags seemingly in agreement, I continued preparing for work. It was when I stepped into the shower that I became aware of the mystery. Someone else’s clothes were in my bathtub. That’s right. I lived alone…well, now with Rags, who’s too cool to dress in human clothes. Yet when I opened the shower curtain I saw a large men’s tank top and a pair of men’s swim trunks, which I swear I’d never seen before. While I tried to figure out where these things came from, I looked up and there, a few feet from me at the open bathroom door, sat Rags with a small, stuffed brown bear dangling from his mouth.
Beyond puzzled, I asked the cat, “Where did that come from?”
Rags chose not to answer. He just dropped the toy and head-bumped me.
“Okay,” I said, checking my watch, “we don’t have time to figure this out now. I’ll just put this stuff aside.” Surely someone would speak up and solve the mystery. I told Rags, “Maybe your new auntie brought you that toy and left these clothes. But why?” Then I remembered that I hadn’t talked to my sister or anyone else since bringing Rags home. No one knew that I’d adopted a cat. The unexpected discovery was certainly puzzling, but when it became obvious that Rags wasn’t going to help me with the dilemma, I got us ready for the day and off we went to work.
****
That evening, my sister, who was on a break from medical school, came over to meet Rags. “Well, he’s nothing special to look at,” Brianna said.
“What do you mean?” I asked. “He’s handsome.”
She waved her hand in front of her face and insisted, “He isn’t distinctive; he’s just plain old gray.”
“Steel gray,” I said, “with subtle markings in white. He’s beautiful. Look how plush and healthy his fur is. And don’t you think he has a nice face? The gals at work thought his eyes were quite intriguing.”
She gave me a smirky grin, saying, “If I were going to adopt a cat, it would at least be pretty and probably something different—maybe a spotted one or one with unusual markings, like…like a heart on its forehead or a Groucho Marx moustache. I’d choose a long-haired cat like that Persian we used to have.”
I informed her, “Buttercup was not a Persian. She just happened to have a lot of fur, and boy, was it hard to take care of.” I felt inclined to add, “And I don’t remember you once helping to groom her.”
Brianna ignored me and focused on Rags again. “Yeah, I can see why no one wanted him; he’s really quite ordinary.”
“You’ve hurt his feelings,” I told her. “Look, he’s leaving the room. That wasn’t nice. I think he’s a good-looking cat. And he passed his vet check with flying colors.”
“He ate your fish,” Bri reminded me.
I had to admit that was risky behavior for a cat seeking a forever home. But I also knew it was species-appropriate. And it was a wake-up call for me. I was quickly learning that this cat was not passive and serene. He was full of energy, obviously curious, but now I was beginning to think he also had super-cat abilities. I mean, I still don’t know how he managed to open the closet door, jump onto that high shelf, and push Bubbles’s bowl over. Yes, it would take special, concentrated measures to keep Rags safe and me sane. I was aware of that pretty much from the beginning, but Rags still managed to constantly surprise me, test my patience, and delight me all at the same time.
That evening Bri and I each ate a shrimp-and-veggie rice bowl and drank wine while we caught up with each other’s busy lives, and we sort of forgot about Rags. I figured he was napping somewhere. Later I took Bri into my bedroom to show her the jacket I’d bought at a consignment shop, and that’s when I remembered the men’s clothing. Actually, she spotted them first. She picked up the swim trunks from my dressing table stool, held them up, and laughed loudly, saying, “Did someone forget his clothes? Vannie, don’t tell me you kicked him to the curb without letting him get dressed.” She gasped dramatically and begged, “Tell me the story. What happened? I’m all ears.”
“I thought maybe you brought those things over here,” I said. “Or that when you stayed here last month, you had an overnight guest and he left them.”
“What?” she screeched. “Why would I bring some strange man’s underwear to your place?”
“Beats me,” I said. “I swear I don’t know where those things came from or who they belong to.” I couldn’t help adding, “Besides, that’s not underwear; those are swim trunks.”
Brianna continued with her accusatory tone as if she hadn’t heard a word I’d said. “Travis—that’s who you’re seeing, isn’t it? Or have you gone back with Matthew?”
“No.” I told her. “I’m not seeing anyone at the moment. No man has been here for…well, for at least a few weeks.” When I remembered that Travis had recently stopped by, I backtracked. “Except for maybe a few days ago. But no, Travis and I are mostly off these days. There’s been no male energy in this apartment—that is, until I brought Rags home.” I giggled and admitted, “In fact, that’s one reason I adopted him. I was craving a warm body and—you know, someone to talk to.”
Brianna grinned at me and suggested, “A human roommate might be less trouble.”
I probably should have considered the wisdom in that statement. Meanwhile, I looked around the bedroom and said, absentmindedly, “I thought Rags was in here. I wonder where he went.”
She suggested that, since he wasn’t in the living room or the bedroom, he must be in the kitchen or the bathroom. So I did a quick check and still couldn’t find him. I became concerned when no amount of calling brought him out into the open. I even looked in cupboards, closets, and under the furniture. Where is he? Before I became hysterical—yes, I was bordering on it—I heard a prrrt. Brianna and I looked in the direction of the sound and there we saw Rags walking toward us carrying something in his mouth.
Brianna screamed and pulled her feet up under her on the couch.
Of course I laughed at her before turning my attention to Rags. What is that? I wondered. And where did it come from? Upon closer examination, I discovered that it was a rope toy, probably designed for a large dog. “Rags, where did you get that?” I demanded to know.
Once Bri saw that it wasn’t a mouse, lizard, or some other living creature, she leaned forward for a closer look. “Is that his toy?” she asked. “It’s kind of big for a cat, isn’t it?”
“No, it’s not his,” I told her. “I’ve never seen it before.” I couldn’t imagine where it had come from. Then I thought of something. I darted into the bedroom, came out with the little teddy bear, and explained, “He had this earlier.”
Brianna scrutinized the bear as I held it, obviously not wanting to put her hands on it. “Looks well loved,” she said. “Did he bring it with him when you adopted him?”
I shook my head. “No. I’m positive that he did not.” When it seemed that she didn’t believe me, I said, “Now how would he sneak in something like this without me seeing it? No, Bri, all he had with him was some paperwork and I bought a cardboard carrier to bring him home in, which he tore out of in record time. No. He didn’t have any toys with him.”
Brianna stared at me, then at Rags, then at the toys. She asked, “How long have you lived here? Maybe the former tenant left these things somewhere in the apartment and the cat found them. Cats can be sneaky, you know. I remember that chocolate-colored cat of yours sneaking around in my secret hiding place and digging through my treasures.”
I couldn’t help but point out, “Yeah, if it wasn’t for Mocha, I wouldn’t have known that you were the one taking my favorite doll clothes!”
Brianna laughed an evil laugh. She was good at that. She insisted, “I was not taking your doll clothes; the stupid cat was probably hiding them there so you’d stop dressing her up!”
Realizing that I actually didn’t want to have that conversation, I thought for a moment about what Brianna had suggested and told her, “I can’t imagine Rags finding those things in this apartment. If there was a secret hiding place here, I’m sure I woul
d have discovered it by now.”
Obviously disbelieving, she insisted we search the apartment, so I humored her. Bri did a thorough search—I mean thorough. She even found a fingernail file I’d lost and a tomato slice that had rotted under the pull-out kitchen trash basket. By the time we approached my small bathroom, I was over having my sister snooping through my belongings. I mean, who needs someone, especially someone as close as a sibling, delving into your private life? I consider closed drawers and closets to be private.
It turned out that we found absolutely no secret leftovers from a former tenant, but Bri wasn’t convinced. She sat on the sofa, stared into Rags’s eyes, and mumbled something about him being an evil creature sent from another galaxy to mess with us. Rags simply stared back at her, which soon made her uncomfortable and she decided to go home—that is, back to Mom’s, where she stayed most of the time when she was on break from college.
It wasn’t until the following weekend that I learned Rags’s secret. Oh yes, he had a secret.
Chapter 2 – Boldly, He Will Go…and Go…and Go
As a special treat one day, I decided to take Rags outside, on his new leash, to the common grassy area. I fully expected an adjustment period with the harness. I recalled the time, as a child, that I tried to dress one of my cats in a costume for Halloween. It seemed as if it would be a simple task to slip a tutu around PomPom’s middle and fasten a tiny tiara to her ears. But I learned that a cat who does not want to be dressed up is a cat who might leave deep scratches in your skin. Actually, I think it was the tiny ballerina slippers I tried to strap onto her paws that was the breaking point for PomPom.
To my surprise, Rags did not resist when I approached him with the harness. In fact, he seemed to understand that wearing it meant periods of freedom for him. At least that’s what I believed at the time. I smiled at the thought of dressing this guy up—not in a tutu of course, but maybe a kitty tuxedo and bow tie, a t-shirt and board shorts, or a Hawaiian shirt and lei—oh yes, and sun glasses. I giggled at the vision. And if cats can truly read a human’s mind, as I’ve come to believe they can, I’m sure he was cringing at the thought. Or maybe not. Perhaps he liked the idea.
I’d just adjusted the harness around Rags and was about to attach the leash, when he darted away from me. “Where are you going?” I asked, watching him trot into the bedroom. He returned with the little teddy bear in his mouth. I guessed he wanted to take it outside with us, and I had no objection. In fact, I thought he looked so cute with the bear that I took a picture of him.
Just as Rags had adjusted nicely to wearing the harness, he walked pretty well on the leash. Well, he didn’t fight against it too strenuously. He seemed to understand the restraint aspect of it. When it stopped him, he simply walked in a different direction.
He sure enjoyed being outside. Cool, I thought. He’s the perfect companion for a sun bunny like me. I laughed when he leaped after a butterfly and I took a picture of him sniffing a dandelion. We’d been walking around the grassy area for several minutes when I heard a child’s voice behind me.
“Hey, that’s Mr. Bear.”
I turned and saw a little girl, who appeared to be around four years old, with a man, whom I presumed to be her father, staring down at the tattered teddy bear that lay next to Rags on the grass. “Excuse me?” I responded, caught off guard.
The little girl pointed. “That’s my bear.”
“Well, how did it get out here?” the man asked. “Are you sure, Ellie?”
“Yes,” she said, picking it up. “This is Mr. Bear, Daddy. See, he has an owie.” She looked up at her father. “Where’s his Band-Aid? I put a Band-Aid on his owie.”
The man looked puzzled. “Honey, are you sure you left your bear out here?” He scratched his head. “I don’t remember you bringing it out with us yesterday.”
Before she could speak, Rags walked up to the child and began sniffing the toy. He took the bear in his mouth and pulled it out of the little girl’s hands.
“No,” the child wailed. “Daddy, that cat took Mr. Bear.”
I apologized profusely and, of course, took the bear from Rags and handed it back to Ellie.” However, Rags quickly followed me and tried to grab it again. “No,” I told him, attempting to steer him away from the child.
The man picked up his daughter, who held tightly to her bear, and he asked me, “Do you know how Ellie’s toy found its way out here?”
I wasn’t sure how to respond, other than with the truth as I knew it. First I offered my hand. “I’m Savannah Jordan.” I pointed. “I live in apartment three.”
“Hi,” he said, shaking my hand. “I’m Terry. This is Ellie.” He nodded to his left. “We just moved in over there a couple of weeks ago.”
I’m pretty sure I nodded and smiled as I explained, “About Ellie’s bear, I found it in my apartment.” I glanced at Rags. “The cat had it. I don’t know where it came from.” I asked the little girl, “Do you remember where you left it?” Then I had an idea. I smiled into her sweet face and asked her, “You didn’t…um…slip it through the mail slot in my door, did you?”
Terry laughed. He thought about that possibility for a moment, then said, “Well, if it wound up in your apartment, maybe that’s the case.” He became more serious. “But we don’t let her come out here by herself and I certainly didn’t see her do it. Maybe her mother or older brother…” he started.
When the child squirmed to get down, Terry lowered her to the ground, but Rags moved closer and tried to grab the bear again.
“No. My teddy!” Ellie said, reaching for her daddy to pick her up. I didn’t blame her. My new sidekick seemed to be lusting after her toy.
Terry thanked me for making Rags give up the bear and he started to walk off with his daughter, but then he stopped and asked, “Um…you haven’t by any chance seen a dog toy, have you?” He laughed, seeming sort of embarrassed, and explained, “My neighbor told me just this morning that Amsterdam’s favorite toy is missing.” He shook his head. “Although I can’t imagine Ellie getting her hands on that dog’s toy and putting it through your mail slot.” He chuckled. “Heck, Amsterdam’s a big pit bull.” He glanced at my front door, saying, “I don’t think that toy would fit in there, anyway.”
I felt as if I were entering the twilight zone. I heard myself ask, “Is it a rope toy…a rope with a knot in it?”
“I believe so,” Terry said. He asked hesitantly, “Do you know where it is?”
I nodded. Unbelievable, I thought. I considered leaving Rags with him and Ellie while I retrieved the toy from my apartment, but thought better of it. So I invited Terry and his daughter inside. “Please wait here,” I suggested as I dropped Rags’s leash on the living room floor, made sure the screen door had latched behind us, and walked into the bedroom. I returned with a basket of the strange things that had been showing up in my apartment. “Is this the dog’s toy?” I asked, holding it up.
“Yes, I think so,” he said. He glanced at the front door. “But I can’t see this fitting through that slot.” He attempted to push the toy through. It wouldn’t go. “No, that’s not how it got in here.” After agreeing that we had a mystery on our hands—one that may never be resolved—Terry thanked me and started to leave, when he looked down at the basket again. He then looked at me. I don’t know how to explain the look, except to say it was both puzzled and accusatory. He pulled out the tank top and said, “This is my shirt. I bought it last summer when we were fishing up in Oregon—see the Klamath Falls logo?”
Before I could think of anything to say, Terry began pilfering through the basket, and to my surprise, picked up the swim trunks. I just about fainted when I saw his piercing, questioning eyes on me. I simply wanted to vanish into thin air.
“Oh, my gosh,” I said, feeling beyond embarrassed. “I swear I don’t have a clue as to where that stuff came from. It just appeared…”
Meanwhile, there was a knock at the door. “Hi,” Brianna greeted, stepping inside. She studied the
man for a moment, glanced at the child, then looked at me.
“Hi, Bri. This is…um…Terry and Ellie. They’ve come to claim their things.” When Brianna looked confused, I said, “That little bear is Ellie’s. And the rope toy belongs to their neighbor’s dog.”
“What?” Brianna screeched. It didn’t help matters that she broke up laughing. “Vannie,” she said, “have you been sleepwalking at night and burglarizing the neighbors?”
Now that certainly didn’t help how I felt. In fact, I just wanted to crawl into a hole. But things suddenly took a new turn when the man began to laugh, and I noticed that he was staring across the room. When I looked in that direction, I saw Rags walking toward us with one of my slipper socks in his mouth.
“Hey, I believe that’s your culprit right there,” he said. “Do you let him outside—I mean, without that contraption on him?”
“No,” I asserted. “I’m keeping him in. He’s a totally inside cat, except for when I take him out on the leash.”
Obviously not believing me, he asked, “Are you sure?” He studied Rags for a moment and said, “I’m certain I saw that cat last night, as a matter of fact. I noticed him because I hadn’t seen him in the neighborhood before. We have cats, and he was peering in through the glass patio door at our two torties.” Suddenly, he glanced around the room and asked, “Hey, have you seen a bag of dice?”
“A bag of dice?” I asked, weakly.
“Yeah, my son and I sat out on the patio for a while last night playing a dice game. When he went out there looking for the dice this morning, he couldn’t find them. Did your cat bring them here by any chance?”
“No,” I told him. “Rags doesn’t go outside, except when I’m with him.”
He looked at me as if I were some sort of weirdo and insisted that it was Rags that he saw the night before and that he must be the culprit in the missing items that were ending up in my apartment.