Revenge at its Felinest

by Patricia Fry

  Rochelle laughed. “Do you think he actually hears you?”

  “Yeah, he hears,” Savannah said. She added flippantly, “But does he understand and does he care? Probably not.”

  Once Rags had jumped down out of the car, he approached Rochelle and head-bumped her leg.

  “Hi, Rags,” Rochelle said. “I think you’re pretty cool too.” She turned to Savannah. “I assume he’s telling me he likes me when he bumps me like that.”

  “I think so,” Savannah said, looking down at the cat. She pointed at Rochelle’s feet. “Love your shoes. They remind me of something Iris would wear, only they look classy and comfortable. Iris wears some of the most uncomfortable-looking shoes—gorgeous, but not something I could wear for more than ten minutes.”

  “Yeah, these are my go-to shoes, lately. I wear a lot of cyan.”

  “Cyan?” Savannah asked. “I’d say that’s turquoise.”

  Rochelle shrugged. “Yeah, it’s turquoise or cyan. Anyway, as you may have noticed, I like the color, and I finally found shoes I love and that are comfy, in a shade that goes with most of my turquoise clothes.”

  Savannah smiled. “Good job.” When Rags pulled her off balance, she yelped, “Oops. Looks like the star’s ready to go greet his people.”

  Both women laughed.

  “There he is,” came a voice from their left.

  “Hi, Rob,” Savannah called. “Yes, here he is, for better or for worse.”

  “Now, I’ve never seen the worst of Rags, have I?”

  “I don’t know,” she said.

  “Hi, Rob, I’m Rochelle,” she said, offering her hand.

  Rob took her hand and nodded. “Yes, I remember. Good to see you again.” He looked at Savannah, then Rags. “Ready to go in?”

  “Sure,” Savannah said. “Did you bring copies of the books?”

  “Yes, I delivered them here yesterday.” Once inside, Rob looked around, then led the women and the cat to a table set up in the back of the store. A few adults and children were seated in strategically placed chairs.

  “It’s Rags!” a little boy called out. “Look, Grandma, it’s Rags!”

  “Can I pet him?” a girl of about five asked.

  “Sure,” Savannah said. She perched on a chair and watched the child pet the cat. Rags sniffed the little girl’s hands, then rubbed against her, knocking her off balance a little. “Oops,” Savannah said, helping to steady her.

  “Why did he do that?” the child complained. “He almost knocked me down.”

  “Because he likes you,” Savannah said, smiling. “When a cat rubs on you, it’s a show of affection.”

  The little girl’s face lit up and she shouted, “Daddy, he ’fected me!”

  “He what?” a man asked, joining them.

  “Rags is giving me ’fection.”

  “Affection,” Savannah explained.

  “Oh, nice,” the man said. He looked at Savannah. “Are you the author?”

  “Yes, of the memoir…um…meowmoir,” she said, chuckling.

  He ran his hand over Rags’s fur, saying, “And this must be Rags.” He smiled. “My wife and I loved the book. We have cats, but none of them have the purrrr-sonality this one has.” He looked at Savannah as she stood up. “Ever thought about selling him?”

  “Sure do,” she quipped. “He’s a handful. But no. I think I’ll keep him for now.”

  The man handed her something. “Here’s my card in case you change your mind.”

  “Excuse me,” Rob said. “They want to fit you with a microphone.”

  “Microphone?” Savannah repeated.

  “Here,” Rob said, taking the leash from her, “give me the cat while Eleanor helps you with the mic.”

  As Eleanor fiddled with the wireless microphone, Savannah looked out over the audience and saw that the seats were now nearly filled. She smiled at Rochelle, who sat in the second row. Rochelle smiled back and gave her a thumbs-up. Once the microphone was in place, Savannah pulled a small pad from a tote bag and laid it on the tabletop among a display of her books. She looked for Rob and saw him talking to someone, but she didn’t see Rags. She felt a moment of panic. Where’s Rags? She stood taller and still couldn’t see him.

  When Rochelle saw that Savannah seemed to be searching for something, she turned in the same direction, then looked at her questioningly. Rochelle quickly approached Savannah. “What is it?”

  “Just wondering what Rob did with Rags,” she said.

  Rochelle glanced at her watch. “Go ahead and start, if you want to. I’ll check on Rags.”

  When Savannah saw that about two-dozen sets of eyes were on her, she took a deep breath and cordially greeted the audience. At that moment, a commotion could be heard in the front of the store.

  Someone shouted. A couple of others raised their voice. Their words were unintelligible to those in the back of the room, but the sound was so jarring that almost everyone in the audience turned toward the disturbance. Savannah quickly focused on Rob, who looked down at his feet. She cringed when she saw him spin around, look to his right and his left, then grimace and quickly run toward the front of the store.

  Savannah was sure that her heart skipped a beat. Darn it, she thought. He let Rags go, didn’t he? He doesn’t know where the cat is. She followed after Rob, hoping he had found Rags inside the store. But when she caught up to him, she knew that Rags wasn’t with him.

  “What happened?” Rochelle asked from behind them, out of breath.

  “I don’t know.” Savannah looked sternly at Rob. “Where is he?”

  He winced. “I’m sorry, Savannah. I thought he was right there next to me.”

  “You let go of the leash?” she asked, trying to keep her cool.

  “He was standing right next to me.”

  Just then she heard a woman say, “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  Her companion responded, “Me neither. Who’d think a cat would do something like that?”

  Savannah ran up to the women. “A cat?” she questioned. “Do you know where the cat went?”

  A man to her left pointed. “He’s outside there.” He chuckled. “Darndest thing I ever saw.”

  “Oh dear,” Savannah muttered, rushing toward the front door.

  “What is it, Savannah?” Rochelle asked, following behind.

  Rob also trailed along.

  When the trio exited the bookstore, Savannah abruptly stopped. Rochelle and Rob almost ran into each other and they tried to see around Savannah.

  “Do you know what happened?” Rochelle asked.

  Savannah cringed. “I’m not sure, but I suspect that Rags is involved. See him on the grass there next to that little boy?” She gasped. “Oh, my gosh, there’s a cop.” She turned toward Rochelle and Rob and whined, “What do you suppose he did this time? I’m afraid to look.” But she knew she had to face it, so she walked to where the child sat with his back to her and picked up the cat’s leash. While checking Rags over, she asked, “Is he okay? He isn’t hurt, is he?”

  “The cat?” the policeman asked. “Yeah, he’s okay. And so is the little duck.” The officer grinned down at Rags. “I guess, because of him.”

  “What?” Rob said.

  The officer faced Rob and Savannah. “Does he belong to you—the cat, I mean?”

  “He’s mine,” Savannah said, hesitantly. Her voice a mere squeak, she asked, “What did he do?”

  “Yeah, what happened?” Rob asked eagerly.

  The little boy, who appeared to be about six, looked up at them and said, “He saved my ducky.” He held up a small wire pen. “I just got Jasper back from the duck doctor and he jumped out of his cage.”

  When the three of them looked confused, a woman said, “This is my son, Liam, and his duckling, Jasper. I guess the latch on Jasper’s carrier came loose when we were on our way to the car with him and he got away from us.” She shuddered. “When I saw him waddling toward the busy street, I thought he was a goner.”

  �
�Yeah,” Liam said, “but that cat ran after him.”

  The woman shook her head. “Then I knew he was a dead duck.” She laughed a little hysterically. “By the time we caught sight of the cat and Jasper again, two lanes of traffic had stopped and the cat was carrying Jasper in his mouth back toward the curb.” She clasped her hands under her chin. “I thought for sure the cat was going to eat the baby duck, but no, he drops Jasper on the grass here and sits down next to him.” She looked at Savannah. “Is this your cat?”

  Savannah nodded.

  “He went into the street to save the little duck?” Rochelle asked.

  “He sure did,” the woman said, reaching out and petting Rags.

  Rob shook his head slowly, disbelieving.

  Savannah crouched to peer at the duckling in the small carrier. “Awww, how cute.” She looked up at the boy’s mother, asking, “And Rags didn’t hurt him?”

  “Not at all,” she insisted. “He saved Jasper’s life.” She ran her hand over Rags’s fur again. “What a guy!” She then offered her hand to Savannah. “Thank you so much.”

  “Hey, I didn’t do anything,” Savannah said, standing up. “It was all Rags, I guess. I’m just glad everyone’s okay.” She glanced back at the bookstore. “We’d better get back in there. He’s supposed to be helping me with a book signing right now.”

  “You say you’re signing books?” the woman asked, smiling.

  “Yes. It’s true stories about Rags—this cat—and he’ll be doing paw-a-graphs for some children’s books he stars in.”

  “Oh, we need to come in and see the books—want to Liam and Daisy?”

  “Yes,” Liam said, scrambling to his feet.

  His younger sister also expressed an interest.

  “But what about Jasper?” the woman asked.

  Rob laughed. “He’ll be the honored guest. Come on in. We’ll make this animal day at the bookstore.”

  “Be kind to animal day,” Rochelle said, chuckling, “because you never know when you’ll need to rely on a cat or a dog or a bird.”

  ****

  Two days later, as the Iveys and Gladys prepared to continue on their trip, they bade goodbye to the Whitcombs.

  Savannah hugged Rochelle, then Peter. “Thank you for your hospitality.”

  “Yeah, it was a great visit,” Michael said, “after that little bit of drama the first night we were here.”

  Peter winced. “Well, I’m just glad things settled down some.”

  “Ditto,” Rochelle said, looping her arm in her husband’s. She smiled at the family as they prepared to climb into their car. “Have a great rest of your book tour.” She giggled. “And send pictures of your cat doing some crazy stuff. He makes me laugh.”

  “Oh,” Savannah said, edging her phone out of her pocket, “I forgot to tell you; the bookstore manager, Eleanor, sent me a video.”

  “Of Rags signing books?” Rochelle asked. “Cool. Let me see it.”

  “Better than that,” Michael said.

  “What?” Peter asked in anticipation.

  Savannah grinned. “A friend of Eleanor took a video of Rags saving the baby duck.”

  “Oh, my gosh,” Rochelle said. “Really?” She looked over Savannah’s shoulder as she attempted to bring the video up on her phone.

  “Here it is,” she said, handing the phone to Rochelle. Peter moved closer to watch it with her as Savannah explained, “They asked for our permission to put it on YouTube. Michael and I are okay with it. It’ll be good publicity for the books.”

  “You got that right,” Peter said. He shook his head while watching the video. “That’s just crazy amazing.”

  Rochelle pointed. “Oh, my gosh, look at that man trying to grab Rags.” She glanced at the others. “I think I would have made an attempt to save the duck from such a big cat, myself.”

  “And check out the faces on the people after Rags dropped Jasper, then sat down next to him,” Savannah said. “Some even applauded.”

  Rochelle handed the phone back to Savannah. “That is a treasure.”

  “It sure is,” Peter said. “Hey, send it to me, will you? I’d love to show it off to our friends.”

  “Especially Bathsheba’s mom and dad,” Rochelle said, laughing. “All she does is lounge around looking pretty.”

  Savannah laughed. “We have one of those cats at home—Buffy.” She nodded. “Yeah, I’ll send it to you.” She threw the couple a kiss and waved. “Good-bye. Thank you again.”

  “It was our pleasure,” Rochelle said. “Stay safe.”

  “We will if you will,” Savannah quipped. She then called out, “Have a great jewelry show this afternoon.”

  Rochelle jumped. “Hey, thanks for reminding me. I’d better finish packing my stuff.”

  The Whitcombs stood with their arms around each other waving until the Iveys’ car was out of sight.

  “That was fun,” Savannah said once they were on the road. “I sure do love Rochelle.”

  Michael glanced at her. “You two have become fast friends, haven’t you?”

  “I guess so. She’s good people. I like Peter too. I just hope he can pull it together and keep it that way. He was a bachelor much too long.”

  “You think so?” Michael asked. “He’s only thirty-seven or maybe thirty-eight.”

  “Too long,” Savannah repeated. “And it seemed that he wasn’t even looking for a wife when he found Rochelle. He was still playing the field. I hope he really is settling down, for her sake—for both of their sake.”

  After driving in silence for a few minutes, Michael asked, “So Gladys, where are you staying in LA? I’ll bet all of your friends are vying for your company.”

  Gladys patted Michael’s shoulder from the backseat. “You’re so kind. I’ll be staying next door to my house, actually. That’ll be interesting. I’ll get a bird’s-eye view of how the renters are taking care of the place.”

  “Good thinking,” Michael said.

  “And what if they’re not taking care of it?” Savannah asked.

  “Oh, I really don’t want to go there.” Gladys smiled. “My neighbor says she likes the people and that my property looks better than when I left it. So I’m not worried.” She asked, “Where’s Rob putting you up?”

  “A suite in a hotel outside the city, actually toward the beach area. It should be nice—less traffic.” Savannah grinned at her husband. “Michael’s not all that accustomed to driving in LA traffic.”

  “Well, you’re going to do the driving while we’re there, aren’t you?” he joked. “You’re used to it.”

  Savannah shrugged. “If you want me to, I guess.”

  He smiled at her. “Naw, you’ll be busy enough managing your cat and performing for large audiences. I can man up and do the driving.”

  ****

  Later that day, after dropping Gladys at her former neighbor’s home and checking into their hotel, Michael lay down on one of the beds with the children, and Savannah called Rob. “Hi, we’re here.”

  “Good. Is your room okay? Did you have a nice drive?”

  “Everything’s great. We’re just a little tired.”

  “I thought things went well in Frisco,” Rob said. “How’d it go after I left? You were scheduled to do that gig at the library Saturday afternoon.”

  “Good,” she said. “Rags seemed to be in his element. There were more kids there than I expected, so I’m glad you sent extra copies of the children’s books.”

  Michael nudged her. “Tell him Rags’s latest.”

  “What’s that Michael said?” Rob asked. “Rags has a new trick or something?” He laughed. “What could be better than him saving a baby duck from the congested streets of San Francisco?”

  “I know,” she said. “That was spectacular. Hey, did you see the video? Eleanor at the bookstore sent me a video of the duckling rescue.”

  “No,” Rob said enthusiastically. “Send it. I want to see that.” He then asked, “So how did he top that?”

 
Savannah let out a sigh. “Well, I don’t think we want to share a video of it with anyone.

  “Uh-oh,” Rob said. “What happened?”

  “He has evidently developed a fascination for bald heads.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah, there was this man in the library with his two little girls. They were familiar with Rags and had copies of his children’s book. Their father—Jared was his name—bought Rags’s memoirs and planned to read it to the kids.”

  “Yeah?” Rob said.

  “Well, the librarian asked me if I’d answer a few questions about Rags and the books instead of just signing. Of course, I agreed. That was kind of fun. You should have heard some of the questions the kids came up with.”

  “I’d like to hear them, actually. Can you write them down for me?”

  “Sure, I guess. So anyway, Rochelle went with me and I handed her the leash so Rags wouldn’t be distracting me while I fielded the questions. She sat with him in the back of the room next to Jared, which thrilled the little girls. They kept busy petting Rags and watching him weave in and out among the chairs on his leash. After a while he jumped up on a table behind them, walked up to Jared, who was bald, by the way, and began rubbing against his head. The girls got a kick out of that and some of the people in the audience were snickering. When Rochelle saw what was happening, she took control of Rags, but he slipped away again, jumped up on that table, and started licking Jared’s head, if you can imagine.”

  “Oh no. What did the guy do?”

  “He was cool. He said, ‘That’s okay. Our cat likes my head too.’ He thought maybe it was the soap he uses or something. But Rags wouldn’t leave that poor guy alone. Talk about being distracted. I just wanted to grab Rags and take him home.”

  She paused while Rob laughed, then she continued, “Well, I guess Rochelle could see that I was kind of uneasy about it, so she moved with him. Unfortunately, that didn’t turn out well either.”

  Rob chuckled. “How so?”

  “Well, she sat kind of catty-corner to a guy wearing a baseball cap, and, when Rochelle wasn’t looking, Rags jumped up onto that man’s lap, knocked off his cap, and tried to climb onto his shoulder, I guess to lick his bald head. Oh, my gosh it was so embarrassing.”