Whiskerful Thinking

by Patricia Fry

  Cody felt around on Gidget's hip and pointed them out.

  "Good lord," Michael said. "Most likely a coyote or a dog." He nodded. "Yeah, we'll clean those out and she'll need a round of antibiotics." Something caught his eye. "What's he doing?" he asked, gazing at Rags as he sat on the floor next to where Savannah was standing.

  "He seems to be pulling at that claw with his teeth," Rob said. "Is it bothering him?"

  "Watch her, Cody," Michael said, waiting for the younger man to move closer and support Gidget as she lay on the exam table. He picked up Rags. "Aha," he said. "It looks like Rags might have been involved in the same squabble that injured Gidget. See here? This claw has been torn. It's bleeding." He winced. "Oh, buddy, that must have hurt." He walked closer to Cody with Rags in his arms and asked, "What do you think we should do with this?"

  "I'd cut that broken part of his claw away," Cody said, "clean that area well to prevent infection, and stop any residual bleeding with styptic powder." He added, "He should probably get a round of antibiotics, too."

  "Good job," Michael said. "Let's look at your other paws, Rags. They look okay. So it appears that these two met up with a wily coyote or an unfriendly dog last night." He checked Gidget's paws. "Clean. I guess she wasn't in a position to do much fighting. She left it to Rags."

  Cheryl petted Gidget ever so gently, then Rags.

  "Well, folks," Michael said after he'd put a splint on Gidget's leg, "that's all I can do for you today. I'd have your veterinarian down south look at her after about two weeks to make sure it's healing. The splint can probably come off a couple of weeks after that—that is if your veterinarian agrees." He handed Rob a container of pills. Give these to her three times a day until they're gone."

  "Thank you, Michael," Rob said, shaking his hand. "I didn't expect to be making a visit here at the clinic this trip, but we sure appreciate your professional work with our little one."

  "Yes," Cheryl said, "thank you so much, Michael." She started to pick up the cat, but hesitated. "She's kind of dirty. I don't suppose I can give her a bath."

  "No," Michael said. "I wouldn't. Just use baby wipes on the dirtiest areas. Maybe even just a damp wash cloth. You'll be able to comb and brush some of the dirt out of her fur."

  "Or leave her hygiene to Rags," Cody said, when he noticed Rags vigorously licking Gidget's fur.

  Michael moved Rags away from her. "Yeah, you don't know what all she's gotten into. I'd try to wipe most of that off her before she or Rags does any licking." He thought for a moment, then removed something from a cabinet. He handed a package to Cody. "Here are some baby wipes. You work on cleaning her up a bit while I see what we can do to repair Rags's damaged claws."

  ****

  "So we're back to normal, are we?" Michael asked that evening over dinner.

  "Whatever that is," Savannah said. She smiled. "But yes, no house guests, no run-away cats. It was a fairly quiet afternoon after everyone left. Mom and I actually had time to sit down and visit for a while," she poked Teddy in the tummy, "until this guy interrupted the peace and quiet."

  "What did he do?" Michael asked.

  "He had a meltdown because Glori wouldn't let him dump her out of his dump truck. She kept jumping out before he could hit the lever."

  "Is that right, buddy?" Michael asked. "Glori wouldn't play the game with you?"

  Teddy pouted. "Glori bad."

  Michael looked at the calico and asked, "Were you being a bad kitty?" He teased the toddler, "She says Teddy's bad."

  "No!" Teddy insisted. "Glori bad."

  "No one's bad," Savannah said. "Glori's a good girl. Teddy's a good boy." She pointed at his plate. "Now eat your sghetti."

  "I talked to Keith today," Michael said. He chuckled. "He had a break between patients there in Colorado at the same time I did."

  "So did you talk to him about our family trip this summer? Are they still onboard with your idea to commune with nature this year?"

  "Do you mean our idea?" Michael said. "You want to go, don't you?"

  Savannah frowned. "Michael, are you sure you want to camp on the ground? It worked out so nicely when we rented that cabin last time."

  "We won't be camping on the ground," he insisted. "We'll have a tent. Tent camping can be a lot of fun. It's a more primitive experience. There's a lot you can learn from real camping. It'll be good for the kids. Adam will love it, and I think you will too."

  "I don't know, Michael, it's just hard to imagine camping out in the open like that in the desert among cactus and rocks."

  "We won't be out in the open, hon; we'll have a cozy tent. Plus the campgrounds I've looked into are not on the desert floor. They're in the mountains, and there are trees and lakes and rivers. From what I can see, it's beautiful up there. I'll take you on a virtual tour after the kids go to bed. Really, it's quite beautiful, and there's a lot to do."

  "If you say so," Savannah said skeptically. "So when are you thinking about going?"

  "If Holly can get away, Keith and I thought we'd meet there this weekend. I already checked with Marci. She said Adam can go with us then. What do you say?"

  "Oh," she sighed. "I suppose I can manage. I always do, don't I, even when I don't think I can. Oops, that's my phone."

  Michael grabbed her arm as she rose from her chair. "You don't have to take it. Just let it go."

  "I'm finished," she said. "And if I don't take it now, I'll just have to call someone back. Hello," she said, walking out of the room with her phone.

  "Is this Savannah Ivey?"

  "Yes."

  "You own that amazing cat that saved its cat friend from a pack of coyotes?"

  "Um, well, we're not sure that it was…" she started. "May I ask who's calling?"

  "Oh, you don't know me. I run an ad agency in Straley. I saw a video of your cat online just now, and I want to talk to you about using him to promote a product for one of my clients."

  "Oh…um…well, why don't you send me an email outlining the particulars of your request." She recited her email address, then said, "Thank you for your interest. Good-bye."

  "Who was that?" Michael asked when she returned to the table.

  "That was the third call I've received today from someone wanting Rags to promote a product for them or in some other way to capitalize on his craziness."

  "Really?" he asked. "So word has gotten out about him rescuing Gidget?"

  "I guess so, but how are these people finding us?"

  "Your name was in the paper," Gladys said. "Didn't you see it?"

  "No," Savannah said. She grimaced. "I'm actually rather disturbed about this whole thing. I mean, if people saw Rags struggling with Gidget and they were able to take pictures and videos, why in the heck didn't someone help him?"

  "Maybe they didn't know the cats were in trouble," Michael suggested. "People thought they were just playing around." He raised his eyebrows. "Or, Rags wouldn't let anyone near them. Rags might have been afraid someone would hurt Gidget. He can be pretty fierce when he thinks he's protecting someone or another animal."

  Savannah put both hands alongside Rags's face. "You are just so special I can't believe it. What a cat!"

  "So are you going to rent him out?" Michael chuckled.

  "No!" she said emphatically. "Don't you think he gets enough publicity? I really don't want to expose or exploit him any more than we already have through the documentary, the books, and all the articles written about him."

  "Well, you'd better not mention that call to Rob, then," Michael warned. "He'll be on that idea like a fly on honey." He looked into the distance, one hand outstretched. "Can't you just see Rob's billboards showing Rags promoting a cat food brand or kitty litter or maybe a room deodorizer?"

  She laughed. "Rob does enjoy finding new ways to promote Rags, doesn't he?"

  "Or course," Gladys said. "That's his job as Rags's agent. Oh yes, I'm sure he'd want to talk to those advertising people." She leaned toward Savannah. "You might reconsider the offers, too."r />
  "Why?" Savannah insisted.

  "The more well-known Rags is, the more books you'll sell," Gladys explained.

  Savannah stared down at Rags and became sullen. "I don't think I'll mention it to Rob if I can help it." She picked up her plate and started to walk to the counter. "Who's that?" she asked, gazing out the window.

  "Company?" Michael asked.

  She moved closer to the window and slumped. "Oh, no, it's one of those news cars all decorated up. Michael, I don't feel like dealing with them this evening, would you…?"

  "Sure, hon, I'll get rid of them," he said, walking toward the door.

  "Just get their number. Maybe I'll call them later," she suggested.

  He chuckled. "I don't think it works that way. They get wind of a story, roll up without warning, and try to do a candid interview."

  Savannah stalled, then said, "I think they went to the front door. Oh, I guess I can talk to them. Might as well get it over with. Otherwise, they'll just keep hounding me."

  Gladys snickered while she cleaned Teddy's hands and wiped down his high chair.

  Savannah glanced at her mother unsmiling. "What's funny?"

  "You," Gladys said. "I've never seen you shy away from the limelight. You can't resist it, can you?"

  "Me?" Savannah said. "You're thinking of my sister. She's the extrovert, not me."

  "No, it's you who pushed to the front of the group in those candid photos they took for your yearbooks. You always wanted to be the queen or play the lead role in plays at church on Easter and Christmas and in junior-high drama class." Savannah started to walk away, but her mother continued, "You wanted to be noticed in sports too. Remember when you had your dad put up a basketball hoop in your room and outside so you could practice day and night?" Gladys watched Rags trot toward the living room eager to see who had arrived. She pointed at him. "You're just like your cat; you can't stand to be left out of anything. Like the time…"

  "Never mind," Savannah said grinning as she continued into the living room.

  "Hon, this is Greg and Selene from the TV station in Straley," Michael said. "This is my wife, Savannah."

  She shook hands with the reporter and the cameraman and invited them to sit down.

  "Is this the famous cat?" Selene asked when Glori walked into the room.

  Lily picked up the calico and said, "Glori broke a puzzle. Mommy, show the picture of Glori breaking the puzzle."

  Savannah smiled at Lily, then explained, "She's our latest rescue. We visited a nursing home with her, offering a little cat therapy for the residents." She grimaced. "But we've learned that cats aren't the best animals for that purpose."

  "'Cause she broke that brown lady's puzzle," Lily said. "Mommy had to put it back together."

  Selene smiled at the child. "Interesting." She spoke to the cameraman. "Now, there's something we could report on; therapy cats." She looked at Savannah. "I didn't know there was such a thing."

  "Rags was a therapy cat for children a few years ago," Michael said.

  "Rags?" Selene repeated.

  "He's the cat you came to see." Michael looked around. "Where is he? I just saw him a minute ago." He relaxed and said, "He'll be coming around to meet you at some point." He looked at Savannah. "Anyway, he and some other cats were summoned to the library. They were supposed to sit quietly, each listening to a child read, right?"

  Savannah nodded.

  "What a great idea," Selene said. She pointed. "Is that pretty cat Rags? Here, kitty-kitty," she enticed.

  Lily walked away from Glori and picked up Buffy. "This is Buffy. She hides in her bed and sleeps a lot."

  Savannah chuckled. "That she does."

  "What kind of cat is she?" Selene asked as the cameraman recorded a short video.

  "She's part Himalayan, although she could pass for a purebred." Savannah smoothed the cat's fur and smiled. "She's a sweetheart."

  Suddenly they heard Teddy shout, "No, Rags! No!"

  Everyone turned toward the commotion and saw Teddy running into the room dragging a plastic chain. Rags pounced on the chain links, causing Teddy to fall down.

  "No!" he shouted, picking himself up. He'd start to run again and, again, Rags pounced and caused the toddler to fall.

  "That must be the famous cat," Greg said, filming him.

  Savannah leaped to her feet and helped Teddy up. She picked up the dangling chain and encouraged the boy to wrap his arms around it. "There. Now Rags can't get it. Keep it off the floor and he can't get it."

  Seconds later, the adult conversation was interrupted again by Teddy's shrill scream.

  Alarmed, Savannah picked up the cat and carried him to where she'd been sitting. "Yes," she said with an exasperated sigh, "this is Rags."

  "What kind of cat is he?" Selene asked, pulling out her notepad.

  "He's half Ragdoll." She smiled. "I recently met his mother and some of his siblings. I was on a mission to find the sire of his litter and actually scored. That was quite a surprise."

  "Oh?" Selene said, waiting to hear more.

  Savannah cocked her head. "Are you familiar with the Ragdoll breed?"

  Selene shook her head.

  Savannah tapped on her phone screen and showed a picture to Selene and to Greg. "This is his mother. She's a purebred Ragdoll."

  "A purty thing all fluffy like that," Greg said. He looked at Buffy. "Kind of like that cat."

  "Beautiful," Selene agreed. She looked down at Rags, who now lay at Savannah's feet pawing at the charm on her ankle bracelet. "So his father is grey?" she asked.

  "You'd think so, but no, he's an orange tabby." She showed a picture of Rags's sire, Rusty.

  "How do you know?" Selene asked, more than a little skeptical.

  "I contacted a cat-DNA expert and she traveled with us when we went in search of Rags's family. The testing proved that Rusty is Rags's father."

  "Wow!" Selene said. "So have you had him for long?"

  Savannah started to respond, then she eased Rags away from her feet and stood up. "Let me get you a copy of his memoirs. That will answer most of your questions and give you a little insight into who he is and some of the crazy things he's done."

  "His memoirs?" Selene repeated, flashing a look at Greg.

  Michael chuckled. "She calls it his meowmoirs."

  Selene and Greg stared at him.

  When Savannah returned, she handed Selene a copy of the book, then sat down and lifted Rags onto her lap. "To give you a little background, I've had him since he was about eight months old. He works with the local police department sometimes helping to solve crimes. He's been involved in lineups, and he has found missing people and missing cats."

  "So what he did with that injured cat wasn't all that unusual for a cat?" Selene asked.

  Savannah looked at her. "I take it you don't have cats."

  The reporter shook her head. "I don't know much about them. In fact, that's how I got this assignment. Our boss thought I would be the best one to do the story because I have no preconceived concepts about cats." She chuckled. "I'm a blank slate, so to speak."

  "Well, to answer your question," Savannah said, "what Rags did last night, and many of the things he does, while they are somewhat cat-like, they're definitely not typical for a cat. Rags kind of bends the rules when it comes to cat behavior. He stretches the boundaries and …well, yes, he does some very unusual things."

  "What's your profession, Savannah?" Selene asked.

  "I'm a licensed veterinarian, on leave now and raising our children. Michael is a practicing veterinarian."

  Selene raised her eyebrows. "So that gives some credibility to what you're telling me, then." She turned to Michael. "Dr. Ivey, do you have any feline patients who do any of the things your cat does? You say your other two cats don't, right?"

  "No. They don't have quite the adventuring spirit Rags does," Michael said.

  "That's what you call it?" Selene asked, making more notes. She looked up. "So tell me about what happened yeste
rday, or was it this morning? I saw the video of him struggling to pull a small basket with another cat inside. Was that one of your cats?"

  "No. Friends were visiting with their cats and Gidget, the cat in the basket, had escaped from the house last night. Then Rags slipped past us and disappeared. I guess he went out looking for Gidget. We didn't find them until this morning when they showed up at my aunt's house next door, evidently on their way back here."

  "Has he ever done anything like that before?" Selene asked.

  Savannah shook her head. "No. That particular activity was a first. Rags likes to ride around in the bed of our son's trucks and in his little wagon, but I've never known him to give another cat a ride like that."

  "What do you think was going through his mind?" the reporter asked. "Did he know she was hurt? Was he trying to protect her, or was he playing around?"

  "I can't be sure since I'm not a cat psychic or anything, but it appeared he was trying to get her some help. He seems to know when a cat or a person needs help and he knows how to get it."

  "Really?" Selene said, staring down at Rags as he now lay in a meatloaf position on the floor.

  Lily looked up from playing with her doll and said, "He gave that man bread, Mommy. He was helping that man, wasn't he?"

  Selene tilted her head. "He gave someone bread?"

  "Yes, when we took the cats to the nursing home," Savannah said.

  "Oh, he went too?" Selene asked.

  Savannah nodded. "Yes. A resident there had a spell and Rags was what you might call a first responder. No one else noticed that the man was in trouble until we saw Rags kneading his chest with his paws."

  "Really?" Selene said.

  "Rags has diagnosed illnesses and…"

  "Wait," Greg said. "How could a cat do that?"

  "Well, in one case, he met a little boy who was sickly. His parents had been taking him to specialists trying to find out why his health was failing. The night Rags met him, he lay on the boy's chest with a paw in the area of his thyroid. I suggested to the boy's father that he ask the doctor to test his thyroid. As it happened, the doctor had just ordered these tests, so Rags was on the right track. The boy was finally correctly diagnosed with a thyroid condition and put on the right medication."