The Cat That God Sent

by Jim Kraus

  This morning, Saturday morning, Jake sat on his front steps, enjoying the bright sunshine. He took a badly dented Ping-Pong ball he’d found in one of his boxes (how it got there he had no clue, as he had not played Ping-Pong since high school) and tossed it into the soft grass beside the church. Petey tore off like a cheetah, little clumps of grass kicking up from his rear paws as his nails dug into the turf. The dented ball had enough odd, flat surfaces that Petey could get his teeth on so it made retrieving easy. A dozen times, Jake threw the ball, and even though Ping-Pong balls don’t travel all that far when thrown, Petey would watch the ball leave his hand and take off like a shot, following the arc as intently as a real cheetah might watch a fleeing antelope.

  By the end, Petey began to pant a little, and at the last throw, he dropped the ball a few feet out of Jake’s grasp, as if to say, “I’m done chasing for now. Let’s take a breather.”

  It was at that moment that a car pulled into the church lot. Jake thought he recognized the driver, but the sun made it difficult to see.

  “Hello, Pastor Jake, Petey. Just the two people I wanted to see.”

  “Hi, Emma . . . Dr. Grainger.”

  She wore her official doctor’s coat and was carrying her official veterinarian’s black leather satchel. The outfit and equipment may not have been actually official, but to Jake, they looked official enough.

  “I know. It’s Emma. But right now, you look like a doctor.”

  Petey ran up to her and rubbed against her leg.

  “You know they do this to sort of mark the humans they lay claim to?” she said.

  “Really? I just thought he liked me when he did that.”

  Emma smiled. “Well, that’s what The Big Golden Book of Vet Knowledge said. What do books know, anyhow?”

  Emma looked up toward the sky.

  “You fix the steeple yet?”

  Jake turned to look up as well.

  “No. But it is crooked. That’s been confirmed. A member of the church who said he knew all about steeples installed it twenty years ago. Turned out that he didn’t, and no one wanted to offend him while he was still alive by going up there and fixing his mistake.”

  “How’s his health now?” Emma said in a furtive whisper.

  “Oh, he died seven years ago. But no one has formed the right committee to fix it. Money issues. Time. Energy. Now we’re the church with the crooked steeple and the cat in the congregation.”

  Emma bent down and picked Petey up. He appeared to enjoy Emma’s attention.

  “I’ve heard. Someone said that the newspaper might want to do a story on it. You’ve got the town talking about your church, Pastor Jake.”

  Jake hoped his expression was that of happiness or surprise or glee, but that was not how he truly felt. His shoulder twinged again, sharply this time, as if he were expending a lot of energy to keep something hidden. He was used to that feeling. And he was getting used to the twinge.

  “Well, I guess there are worse things that could happen. So, what brings you out here? On a Saturday. You don’t have office hours on Saturday, do you?”

  “Just in the morning. Some people can’t get in during the week. But I came to give Petey a s-h-o-t. I completely forgot about it when I worked on his paw. No way of knowing what sort of vaccines he had before.”

  At the word vaccine, Petey squirmed a bit. Emma held on tight.

  “Can we go inside? Just in case he knows what a vaccine is?”

  Jake shouldered the door open. “The fellow who built the steeple installed the door as well.”

  Emma gave Petey to Jake, then opened her bag. She took out a small vial and a hypodermic. “He needs a rabies shot. And a booster shot. I’m nearly certain he would have had the standard vaccinations when he was a kitten.”

  She filled the hypodermic. Petey obviously saw what was coming and while he meowed loudly and pitifully, he did not try to squirm away. She poked once and injected the vaccine. She quickly grabbed the other and injected it into the other hip. Again, Petey yowled loudly but did not try to claw free.

  “There. Now he is up-to-date. Legal and healthy.”

  Jake carefully put Petey on the floor. He looked up at both of them, meowed once more, in an angry tone this time, and stalked out of the kitchen, his tail held high, obviously more than a bit peeved at both humans.

  “Both spots will be a little sore for a day or two. No playing tackle football, okay?”

  “You said that he probably had shots as a kitten. How could you tell?”

  “Shy of running elaborate blood work—and very expensive blood work—you can’t. But Petey looks like a Siberian mix. Maybe with Maine coon. I looked it up to make sure, and he’s got breed characteristics for both. Thick, nonshedding coat, right color, right body structure, right face. Siberians, even mixed, are not that common—I’ve never had one in my practice yet. Full blooded ones are still rather rare—and expensive. Around $1,000 a cat.”

  Jake whistled his surprise.

  “Wow. I had no idea. You can get cats for free.”

  “Then you’re lucky, aren’t you? A thousand-dollar cat picked you. Oh, yes, and the breed is said to be almost doglike in some of its behaviors.”

  “I could vouch for that. We were playing fetch-the-Ping-Pong-ball when you came. He loves retrieving things.”

  “Funny he doesn’t have a microchip, though. Expensive cats usually do. But not all of them,” Emma said. Then she looked around. “Nice place. I wouldn’t have imagined this from outside.”

  Jake nodded. “It is nice. Very comfortable. And almost stylish.”

  Emma narrowed her eyes. “You know, this could be a wormhole in space and time and we’ve been teleported into another dimension. Somewhere far away from Coudersport.”

  “You’re a science fiction fan?”

  Emma picked up the two used hypodermic needles.

  “I like some of it. I’m a sucker for the Dr. Who reruns on PBS.”

  Jake nodded again.

  She is easy to talk with.

  “Listen, Emma . . . if you’re not busy . . . or don’t have other arrangements . . . how about coffee or dessert or dinner or something . . . Sunday evening?”

  Emma’s eyebrows rose in surprise.

  “This Sunday? Can you do that on a Sunday?”

  “I’m . . . I’m pretty sure. The church hasn’t had Sunday evening services for a decade. So, sure. I can go out on a Sunday evening.”

  Emma shrugged.

  “Sure. I have nothing on my calendar. How about 6:00? Closing time in Coudersport on Sunday evenings is even earlier than during the week.”

  “Sure. That would be great. I’ll see you then.”

  From the living room came the low, rumbling yowl from Petey, as if saying, “Good riddance.”

  “And tell Petey I’m sorry for the shots,” Emma said as she walked out.

  I do smell lilacs. Must be her soap. Or disinfectant. Or something.

  The two elders, Bobby Richard and Rudolph Keilback, stood in the back of the church as the service started—the official ushers of the day. Ushers in a small church did not have many functions. They handed out bulletins that listed the hymn numbers, the sermon title and Scripture reference, the upcoming meetings, the year-to-date finances, and the weekly attendance figures.

  Rudolph fanned himself with his stack of bulletins. The organist started to play the first hymn and most everyone who regularly attended were in their seats.

  “You read this yet?” Bobby asked, his voice low and elderlike.

  “Nope. Not yet.”

  “You see the attendance number?”

  “Nope.”

  “Last Sunday, we were up twenty more than last year. That’s as high as we been in . . . well . . . in years.”

  Rudolph wiped at his face with his other hand. The weather carried only a hint of warmth, and already, Rudolph was sweating. Summer and high temperatures were not kind to big men like Elder Keilback.

  “I guess we made the r
ight decision when we hired Pastor Jake.”

  “Think we did, too,” Bobby added with a smile.

  “The cat don’t hurt, either. Got people talking.”

  Bobby craned his head.

  “Is he here yet? Didn’t see him come in.”

  “Yep. He’s up there, sitting on his normal chair. Just waiting.”

  “Don’t that beat all,” Bobby replied.

  “We made a good call on letting the cat stay, too.”

  “That we did, Brother Keilback. That we did.”

  “I guess it shouldn’t matter why the new people are here, just that they’re here is a good thing.”

  Jake pulled into the drive and hurried out of his car. Emma called out from the second-story porch. “I’ll be right down, Jake. Give me just a minute.”

  Jake leaned against his truck. He had washed it that afternoon—getting it mostly clean. He’d even vacuumed the interior, though it was already fairly clean. He was not one of those people who use their vehicle as a mobile recycling bin. The mats, however, had needed the cleaning, and he’d even taken Windex to the truck’s windows—inside and out.

  Emma came out in a rush and tossed a white sweater around her shoulders. She wore a simple blue blouse and jeans, but they looked nearly elegant to Jake.

  The lilac smell is stronger now. Must be the soap. I like it.

  Both settled in the truck.

  “Where to?” Jake asked. “You have me at a disadvantage. I only know how to get from the church to Doug’s Foods. And the movie theater. And maybe to Kaytee’s.”

  “Oh, yes. Kaytee’s. I heard about your mom and aunt visiting.”

  “Does anything happen in town that everyone doesn’t know about the next day?”

  “Nope. And remember that in Coudersport, you’re almost a celebrity.”

  “What? A celebrity? Get out,” Jake replied, surprised.

  “No. Really. You’ll be one of the better-known people in town. Already are, kind of. Me too. A sort-of celebrity. Not as much as you. I’m a doctor—of animals—so I’m a little lower than a real doctor. I’m a woman—makes the doctor thing unusual. I’m from here, so I have known many of the people in town all my life. I meet lots of people during the course of a week. It all adds up. We may not be the Hollywood sort of celebrities, but there’s no escaping it. Like I said, don’t do anything foolish here. They’ll find you out.”

  Jake stopped at the stop sign at the end of the block.

  Emma finally snapped her seat belt closed. “Are you hungry? Like let’s-eat-right-now sort of hungry?”

  Jake looked both ways and shrugged. “Not so much. A little. I don’t know. After preaching, I stay sort of a little jangled the rest of the day. At home, I usually wind up just picking at things. Chips. Pickles. Popsicles. I don’t know.”

  “You want to drive a little? Around town? I can point out the famous spots. And where people live. We have enough light for an hour’s tour. Then, if we’re hungry, we can split a milkshake at the malt shop.”

  “Really? You have a malt shop in Coudersport?”

  “Of course not,” laughed Emma. “Back in the fifties, we did—I think. Now we have McDonald’s. Not the same, but it’s what we have.”

  Jake liked being in the truck with Emma. He liked how easy she was to talk with. He liked that she laughed easily. That she was smart and witty. He recalled his time with Barbara Ann. It was so different. Even though he knew he shouldn’t compare the two, and of course not this early, because he didn’t really know if this was the start of a relationship or not (though he hoped it was), being with Emma felt better. Easier.

  “Sure. Let’s do the Coudersport tour. I’m up for that.”

  For the next hour, Jake and Emma drove slowly through town, and out and back again. She showed him the high school and the elementary school, and the homes of nearly all of his elder board, the organist, and the Sunday school superintendent. She showed him where she grew up and a good place to fish. She gave him the pros and cons of the supermarkets in town and told him which doctor—the human kind—she considered to be the best. “I’m still auditioning dentists. Haven’t settled on one yet. But I inherited good teeth, so I don’t have to rush.”

  She does have good teeth. Very nice smile.

  When darkness came, Emma suggested that a trip to McDonald’s might just be the proper end to an evening of cruising the town. “It’s what we did in high school,” she declared.

  They both ordered Big Mac meals and sat inside the very bright restaurant and used too much ketchup on their fries. Jake ordered a small vanilla shake, Emma chose chocolate. They drank them as he drove back to her house. He pulled into the driveway.

  He was about to turn the truck off.

  “Leave it on, Jake. I’m going to run in and this way no one will see what I’m about to do. The porch light is too bright and I have curious neighbors.” She held the shake in her right hand, undid her seat belt, and leaned toward him, closer and closer. Then she brushed his lips, cold from the vanilla shake, with hers, cold from chocolate. More than a brush, it was closer than that, and a little longer. It was a nearly chaste, chilly, longish peck, but earnest at the same time.

  “I had a ball, Pastor Jake. We should do this again sometime.”

  He was still blinking as she slipped out and the bright dome light of the cab came on.

  “See, too much light.”

  All he could say before she closed the door to the truck was, “Thanks. I had a great time, too.” And she waved and disappeared up the stairs and into the darkness.

  Jake arrived home, after dark, and Petey sat in the middle of the kitchen floor, almost at attention, and meowed loudly when he came in, obviously upset at being left alone. His stare could be deadly.

  “Hey, Petey, cut me some slack, would you?” Jake said as he tossed his truck keys in the blue porcelain bowl on the counter. “I was with Dr. Emma. You know, Winston’s mom.”

  Petey narrowed his eyes.

  She is NOT his mother. They cohabitate. Please. I am not stupid like that dog is. And tell her to give him a bath more often. Dogs are simply horrid at keeping themselves clean.

  Jake walked over to his new coffeepot/machine, which used little plastic pods to whoosh out a single cup of coffee. Petey watched him as he stored away an armful of different boxes filled with pods and fussed with the machine, pressing buttons, seemingly at random.

  He makes a big to-do about each cup—so he must like it. Still smells like an old raccoon, if you ask me.

  Jake poured half-and-half into the freshly brewed cup of coffee and opened the kitchen door.

  “You want to come out for a while? Get a breath of fresh air?”

  He sounds downright chipper this evening. Why is that? And isn’t chipper an odd word? I wonder where that comes from.

  Jake took his usual spot on one of the lawn chairs. Petey sniffed about for a while, then joined him in the other lawn chair. Jake had found a round, metal table at a garage sale that he had placed between the chairs. That’s where he put his coffee cup. The breeze carried the smell to Petey’s face and the cat wrinkled his nose in reaction.

  “We went for a long ride around town. We had fun. She is really easy to talk to—and funny.”

  Petey meowed in reply, a cautious meow.

  “I know she is not a churchgoer. But we’re talking about it.”

  Petey chirped.

  “Well . . . we will talk about it. I bet she’s open to discuss it.”

  Petey waited a moment, then replied with a low, rumbling meow.

  “She’s nice, Petey. She listens to me. And it’s not serious. We’re friends. That’s all.”

  Petey looked the other way, thinking he heard movement by the back door.

  “Well . . .”

  Petey spun around and chirped again.

  “She did kiss me goodnight. That was different.”

  Petey sat up straighter. He stared harder.

  “Just an innocent peck. That�
��s all. Between friends.”

  Petey narrowed his eyes. Even though it was dark, he was sure Jake could see his reaction.

  “I’ll be careful, Petey. I know. I know. I’ll be careful.”

  10

  Tassy put on her good sneakers and started to walk. This time, toward town.

  Pastor Jake said he checked the odometer of the truck and from the church to McDonald’s was only four miles. That’s not so far. And he said Kaytee’s was only a few blocks farther. He said their food was better. And not expensive at all. I’ll see how long four miles actually is.

  Staying inside the RV all day was making her a little claustrophobic. Tassy cleaned every morning, washed every dirty dish, made the bed, did not allow any clutter to form anywhere, but doing all of that did not take long. She read the employment ads in the paper and, so far, had found nothing she was qualified to do. And there were very few employment ads to begin with. A couple of them she asked Jake about—selling from home, working from home, and the like—and he had assured her that all of them were simply scams and would cost her money to sign up.

  So, today she decided to wear her relatively good clothes, with sneakers for walking, and head into town to put in applications at whatever business would take them. She knew that Jake would drive her there, or she could call Vern or Eleanor, but she wanted to do this on her own. And Pastor Jake said a brisk walk is at least three to four miles per hour. So it would only take her an hour to get there. If she was really tired, she could always head back to Vern and Eleanor’s house to arrange a ride back to the RV.

  Four miles did not prove to be an insurmountable distance. Almost before she knew it, she was down the street from the McDonald’s. She had eaten breakfast, a couple of crackers and some ginger ale, and the walk seemed to settle her stomach, which remained a little sensitive and a little nervous. She thought a single cheeseburger might be okay, with a Sprite or something clear. Maybe even a cup of hot tea. In the past few weeks, she had developed a fondness for tea laced with honey.

  She ordered her food and looked around. There were no empty single seats or empty tables. The restaurant wasn’t large and it was a bit too cool to try and sit outside. So Tassy held the bag in her hand, her cup of tea in the other, and waited off to the side.