Dr. Horatio vs. the Six-Toed Cat

by Virginia Smith

  Lizzie peeked her head through the doorway. “Are you ready, Doc?”

  “I guess.” He assured himself that the window was shut, his borrowed kitties safe and secure. “I might grab a sleeping bag and spend the night here.”

  His wife gave him an understanding look. “He probably won’t come back, not after the scare he got today.”

  “He might.” A long shot, yes, but Doc couldn’t give up his plan. He didn’t have another one.

  They left the Animal Clinic and bypassed their cars in the parking lot. The sun wouldn’t set for another hour or so, and the temperature promised to be mild this evening. A short walk wouldn’t hurt them, and might help lift some of the gloom that had settled on him after the polydactyl cat’s dash to freedom.

  Band music reached them. The county high school jazz band always took the stage first, a place of honor which was theirs by virtue of being local, not because of talent. Doc quickened his pace. When they finished playing Mother would deliver her speech, and he’d better be on the front row of onlookers.

  Lizzie took his hand as they turned onto Walnut Street. “Your mother plans to announce her retirement as coordinator this evening.”

  “She says that every year.”

  “This time she’s serious. I think it’s a good decision if she goes through with it. She’s not getting any younger, you know.”

  “Mother’s healthier than a horse. She’ll probably outlive us both.”

  Just before they approached the corner of Walnut and Main, something caught Doc’s eye. Was he seeing things? He stopped, pulling Lizzie to a halt, and peered through squinted eyes.

  Lizzie gave him a quizzical look. “What’s the ma—”

  “Shh.”

  With a nod, he directed her attention toward the cat, who had found a wide window ledge to rest and soak up the last rays of the setting sun. A huge cat with a dark yellow and orange undercoat and black tabby markings.

  It was his escapee. It had to be.

  The cat caught sight of them, and Doc froze. The cat fixed an amber gaze on him and blinked. He did not move, apparently dismissing them as a threat.

  “Hello, my fine fellow.” Doc pitched his voice low. “I’ve looked forward to meeting you.”

  The cat’s responded with a quiet meow. No bunching of muscles preparatory to fleeing. No movement other than the flick of his tail.

  Encouraged, Doc took a cautious step toward him. “Don’t go anywhere, buddy. I’m not going to hurt you. I’d just like to examine your paws, if you don’t mind.”

  Those amber eyes watched him, unconcerned. With a third step, Doc was close enough to touch the animal. This creature did not display any of the behavior typical of feral cats. Up close, Doc could see that he appeared to be well-fed and mellow. Unfortunately, his paws were folded beneath him.

  “Would you let me pet you, boy?” He extended a hand, which the cat watched, seemingly indifferent. With the first touch of Doc’s fingers, he lifted his head and arched his back, inviting the caress to continue down the length of his spine and all the way to the tip of his tail.

  “You like that, don’t you?” Doc obliged several times, until he heard the telltale rumble of the cat’s purr. Only then did he attempt to pick him up.

  When he had the animal tucked securely in his arms, he turned a grin on Lizzie. “I got him.”

  She approached, stretched out a hand and, when the cat nosed it, ran her fingers down his back. “He’s so soft and friendly. Are you sure this is the right one?”

  Doc shifted the cat’s weight so he could get hold of a front paw. Sure enough, this kitty sported a prominent sixth digit. Not only that, but a quick examination revealed an extra toe on each of his rear paws as well.

  “This is our Romeo, all right.” He continued to pet the cat and marveled at the way his stress melted away at the feel of its rumbling purr.

  “He’s obviously tame. Probably someone’s pet. How are we going to find his owners?”

  “Put up signs, maybe? A notice in the paper?”

  The band music stopped. They exchanged a startled glance.

  “We’d better hurry.” Lizzie didn’t wait, but plunged forward and bustled her way past the booths and white tents that lined Main Street.

  Doc would have preferred to return to the clinic and install this elusive tomcat in one of the crates, but there was no time. He tightened his hold and followed his wife.

  By the time he arrived at the far end of Main Street, Mother had already taken the stage. Her familiar voice rang out across a sea of listeners, thanking everyone for coming out to kick off the festival. He arrived at the stage and joined those standing to one side, since the chairs facing the podium were all occupied. With many excuse-me’s and pardon-me’s and the occasional application of an elbow, he pushed his way to the front of the crowd. There. If Mother looked this way, she’d see him.

  The heavy regard of a pair of eyes drew his attention toward the crowd. Seated in the middle, Julia Belchwater had a stare fixed on him. She mouthed a question, Is that the papa? Doc nodded, and her expression turned sour. He hugged the tomcat closer to his chest, determined to shield him from protective cat owners.

  Wearing her best dark blue dress and with every lock of gray hair in place, Miss Ernie stood before a microphone stand that had been lowered to accommodate her height. “The Goose Creek Fall Festival would not be possible without the efforts of everyone in town. Thank you to everyone who helped. To Jacob Pulliam and his crew for overseeing all the construction.”

  She paused to let Jacob enjoy a round of applause.

  “To Little Norm for hauling the tents and setting them up.”

  More applause while Little Norm, who was by no means a small man, took a bow.

  “And this year I’ve had the best assistant any coordinator could have asked for in Alison Richardson.” Miss Ernie’s gaze scanned the crowd. “Alison, where are you?”

  In the second row of seats, Alison stood and waved a hand toward the crowd.

  “Oh!” A grin lit Mother’s face. “And there’s Alison’s beau, who came a long way to join us for the festival. Welcome, young man. Everyone say hello to Nick.”

  The startled-looking man seated between Alison and Millie gave a shy nod. Doc examined him from the distance of a few yards. So this was the surprise fiancé. Funny. He didn’t look foreign. At least Millie’s smile seemed genuine, and even from here he could see that she’d lost the anxious expression she’d worn all week. Even Al was smiling and appeared to be at ease.

  From the stage, Miss Ernie continued. “And of course every business in town has contributed something. Cardwell Drugstore, and the Whistlestop, and—”

  Her speech ceased abruptly. Doc looked from the Richardsons toward the stage to find his mother’s gaze fixed on him.

  “Horatio, what are you doing with Hornblower?”

  “Hornblower?” He looked down at the creature in his arms, who was watching the proceedings calmly. “This is your cat?”

  “No, he’s mine.” Alison Richardson sidestepped out of the row and approached to lift the cat from his arms. “And his name’s not Hornblower.” Her lips twisted and she addressed Miss Ernie, who had deserted the microphone and come to this side of the stage. “It’s Jordan, after Robert Jordan.”

  “What kind of a name is Jordan for a cat?” Miss Ernie shook her head.

  “Robert Jordan was the main character in one of Hemingway’s best known books.” She hugged the cat, who tolerated the affection with remarkable aplomb. “You can’t name him after Horatio Hornblower. That book was written by Forester, not Hemingway.”

  “I don’t care who wrote it.” Miss Ernie waved a hand dismissively. “I like it.”

  “Obviously,” said Lizzie in Doc’s ear, her tone heavy with sarcasm.

  The young man, who apparently was not from South America, left his seat to join Alison. He stared at the animal in her arms, incredulous. “I can’t believe you stole that cat.”

&nbs
p; “I didn’t steal him.” Alison hugged the feline again and avoided her fiancé’s eyes. “He followed me home.”

  Nick’s eyebrows arched. “From Florida to Kentucky?”

  The delighted whispers of the townsfolk alerted them all to the fact that they had become the center of attention.

  Doc stepped between the two young people. “I think we should continue this conversation elsewhere. Let’s go over to the clinic, shall we?”

  “Good idea.” Lizzie spread her arms and proceeded to herd them all away from the inquisitive gazes of the townsfolk.

  As they left the area, joined by Millie and Al, Doc listened to his mother rush through the fastest festival kick-off speech on record, so that by the time they turned the corner toward the clinic, she had overtaken them in the golf cart she drove around town on festival business. Alison and Nick hopped on, and the trio was waiting in the clinic’s parking lot when Doc and the others arrived.

  Inside, they all gathered in the waiting room. The cat, Hornblower or Jordan or whatever his name was, fidgeted on Alison’s lap while she attempted to calm him by stroking his fur.

  With a scowl that Al directed around the room, lingering longest on his daughter, he took control of the conversation. “Alison, tell us what’s going on here. Did you steal a cat?”

  “No,” she said quickly, and then bit her lower lip. “Well, I didn’t really steal him. He kind of adopted me.”

  Beside her, Nick nodded. “She’s right about that. We were in Key West and there are all kinds of cats running around the island.”

  “And chickens and roosters,” Alison put in.

  His lips twisted as he leveled a disapproving stare on his girlfriend. “But not the six-toed cats. They’re confined within a specially built wall at the Hemingway House, and the males are counted every night.”

  “Which proves that Jordan is not a Hemingway cat,” Alison said. “We even asked the custodian if any of their cats were missing, and he said no. Jordan was hanging around the condo where we were staying, and he kind of adopted me. Followed me everywhere.”

  Millie stroked the restless cat in her daughter’s lap. “So he’s a stray?”

  “I doubt it.” Nick gestured toward the animal. “Look at him. He’s healthy and friendly. He was probably somebody’s pet, and I’ll bet they miss him.” He gave the girl a pointed look, which she avoided.

  Doc turned to his mother. “How did you end up with him?”

  Miss Ernie rose and crossed the room to take the cat from Alison’s lap. “Alison gave him to me.”

  “Temporarily,” the girl added.

  Miss Ernie returned to her seat, clutching the cat. “For an indefinite amount of time,” she corrected. “She couldn’t keep him at home.”

  “On account of your allergies, Daddy,” the girl put in. “Plus…” She slipped her hand into the young man’s and smiled at him. “I knew you’d probably throw a fit about me coming home in love with an army man, and I didn’t want to overload you.”

  Nick softened visibly in the face of her smile. “But, sugar, what if he belongs to somebody? What if you took some little girl’s pet?”

  The cat hopped off of Miss Ernie’s lap and beelined across the floor to the swinging door that separated the reception area from the clinic. No doubt he was fully aware of the four females confined in crates in the boarding room.

  “I’ve called down there a half-dozen times,” Alison insisted. “I’ve checked the newspaper for notices, I’ve contacted the veterinarians in the lower Florida Keys, and even talked to the vet in charge of the polydactyls at the Hemingway House. Nobody’s reported a missing six-toed cat. Dr. Clark down there told me that the polydactyl gene crops up every now and then around the island, not just on the museum property. She said Jordan is probably a distant relative of the Hemingway cats, but she assured me he isn’t one of them.”

  Nick enveloped her hand in both of his. “We can’t take him to Italy, sugar. The army won’t let us.”

  Al jerked upright. “Italy?”

  “Yes, sir.” Nick nodded. “Camp Darby in Tirrenia, Italy.”

  “You’re going to Italy?” Millie awarded the couple a grin wide enough to display her molars. “Not South America?”

  “That’s right, ma’am. The base is not too far from Livorno, where my grandparents lived before they came to the States. I’ve still got cousins there, so we’ll have family nearby.” He grinned at Alison and squeezed her hand. “My parents are planning to visit after we get settled in. You’ll both be welcome too, of course.”

  Tears sparkled in Millie’s eye, and Al looked as relaxed as Doc had ever seen the man. Though glad for them, he needed to resolve the issue at hand.

  He cleared his throat. “About that cat.”

  Miss Ernie answered in a voice that brooked no argument. “When the young people return and set up housekeeping in this country, I’ll give him back. In the meantime, Hornblower,” she grinned at Alison, “is staying with me.”

  By the clinic door Hornblower, or Jordan, or whatever the animal’s name was, let out a yowl.

  “Then I insist on one thing.” Doc strode toward the cat and scooped him up. He stood to his full height and poured every ounce of authority into his voice. “He’ll be neutered immediately. This little Lothario may not have free run of the town. We already have enough polydactyl kittens, thank you.”

  “I was going to ask you to take care of that as soon as the festival was over,” his mother said.

  Lizzie leaned forward to catch Miss Ernie’s eye. “I can’t believe you’ve had a cat for, what? Three months? And you never said a word to either of us.”

  “I’ve been too busy with the festival to think about anything else.” She fixed a stern look on Doc. “If you visited more often you would have seen him.”

  He ducked his head at the well-deserved reprimand. “Point taken.”

  “And speaking of the festival.” Miss Ernie picked up her handbag and stood. “I need to get back and see to the vendors. If I turn my back for an instant that Abernathy woman will try to stage a takeover.”

  “Go ahead,” Doc told them all. “I’ll be right there.” He secured his grip on the cat in his arms. “First I’m going to make sure this scoundrel is out of harm’s way.”

  Wedding-in-a-Hurry Checklist

  Reserve church sanctuary – Millie

  Call Reverend Hollister – Alison

  Obtain marriage license – Alison and Nicholas

  Order flowers – Millie

  Order cake – Alison

  Call JW (photographer) – Millie

  Guest list –Millie and Alison

  Menu – Millie and Shirley

  Wedding night arrangements – Nicholas

  Polish silver – Albert

  Chapter Eight

  When everyone was seated around the breakfast table the next morning, Millie produced her list. She’d stayed up late making copies so everyone would have their own.

  Circling the table, she set one on every place mat and then returned to the stove.

  Nicholas picked his up. “What’s this?”

  “A to-do list.” She pressed a paper towel against the bacon to soak up the excess grease before setting the platter on the table. “It’ll expand over the next few days, but it’s a place to start.”

  Alison scanned Nick’s copy over his shoulder. “We don’t need flowers, Mom. And I can’t see paying a lot of money for a big wedding cake when we’re only going to have five guests.”

  “That’s why you order the cake from the grocery store bakery. It doesn’t have to be tiered. A regular layer cake will do just as well.” She cracked another egg into her skillet. “And you’re going to have at least twelve guests, which is another reason the courthouse won’t be suitable.”

  “Twelve?” Alison looked at Nick. “I told you she’d do this.”

  Millie turned, spatula in hand. “You mean you don’t want to invite your brothers and their wives to your wedding?”


  “Oh.” She looked away, chagrined. “I forgot about them.”

  “Plus, we’ll have to invite Violet because I want her to make those little chicken salad tarts.”

  “Who’s Violet?” asked Nicholas.

  “Mom’s best friend.” Alison caught sight of another item on the list. “Who is JW?”

  “Junior Watson.”

  “Oh, Mother, really?” Alison rolled her eyes. “I am not inviting Junior Watson to my wedding. He’ll wear those ripped overalls he always has on, and besides, I barely know the man.”

  “He’s become quite a hand at amateur photography.” Millie expertly flipped an egg. “You’ll be sorry someday if you don’t have pictures of your wedding. You won’t find a real photographer at this late date. Besides, he’ll probably do it for twenty-five dollars.”

  “And why are you and Nick’s mom planning the menu? Don’t I get to help plan my own wedding meal?” Her lower lip protruded just like when she was a little girl.

  Millie’s heart twisted, and she pushed back a thousand memories to focus on the moment. “Of course you can, dear. I was just trying to save you from some of the work.”

  “Wait a minute.” Albert looked up from the list, displeasure heavy on his features. “You know I hate polishing silver. The smell of that stuff gets stuck in my nose, and it’ll haunt me for days.”

  She slid two eggs, over easy, onto a plate and set it in front of him. “You have to help out some way. You can’t expect us to do everything.”

  “I certainly can. In fact, I do. What’s wrong with their original plan? They run down to the courthouse, say their vows, the boy signs his life away, and the whole thing’s over without a fuss.”

  Nicholas stared at him with a touch of alarm. “Sign my life away?”

  Albert laid a hand on the young man’s shoulders and spoke as though delivering sage advice. “When a man gets married, his life is never his own again. Trust me on this.”

  “Oh, Daddy, stop it. You’ll scare him.” Alison wrapped her arms around her beau from behind and gave him a quick hug before returning to the counter to butter the toast. “He’s joking, Nick.”