by Patricia Fry
Gladys began to laugh. “Now there’s a term I haven’t heard in a while.”
“Is he interested in building things?” Michael asked.
Savannah shrugged. “I don’t know.”
Michael looked down at Rags, who appeared to be sitting in on their conversation. He petted the cat and scratched him behind one ear. “Has he kept his mitts off neighbors’ things since you grounded him?”
“Yeah,” Savannah said. “He hasn’t been out and about since my cousin and her kids left. After spending time with Aaron, I learned that five-year-olds can sure be forgetful and careless.” She looked at Lily, who was pushing her popping lawnmower toy around the kitchen. “I hope we can teach Lily to close the doors behind her by the time she’s tall enough to reach the doorknob.”
“But Rags didn’t actually run off while they were here, did he?” Gladys asked.
Savannah shook her head. “No, but I was pretty busy monitoring the doors and I had to drag him back inside a few times.”
“Maggie says neighbors are still upset with the cats,” Gladys said. “But it appears they’re blaming them for things they aren’t actually capable of doing.” She quickly steered the toddler away from the dog’s water bowl. “Your aunt must have gotten three or four calls from those neighbors while we were together yesterday.”
Savannah winced, then let out a sigh. “That’s what happens when you develop a reputation. It follows you for a while.” She turned to her husband. “So, Michael, did you lock the shed?”
He nodded, stretched, and yawned. “Well, I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m beat after that long drive. I’m going to relax for a bit before I get Lily ready for bed.”
Savannah rubbed his arm. “Yeah, me too.”
“Well, I’m going upstairs and see if I can finish the book I started on the plane,” Gladys said. “We’ve been so busy, I haven’t had a chance to do much reading. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“’Night, Mom.”
“Good night, Gladys. Thanks for the great meal,” Michael said, patting his stomach.
Once the couple was sprawled out on the sofa, their toddler playing nearby, Savannah asked, “By the way, how are things at the clinic? Everything go okay while you and Bud were gone?”
Michael nodded. “Rick did a fine job; seems as though everything went smoothly. It got busy this afternoon, though. By the time I got there things had calmed down, but when I started to leave, we got another emergency. I decided to stay and take it.”
“Gosh, no rest for the weary. So what happened?” Savannah asked.
“Well, a kid brought in a cat with an abscess. He seemed so upset, I didn’t want to make him wait.”
“A kid?”
“Yeah, probably sixteen or seventeen—maybe younger; he seemed a little immature. He sure loves his cat. He evidently found her in a cat colony. He says she told him she didn’t want to stay there anymore.”
Savannah chuckled. “A talking cat, huh?”
“Yeah, he said that he understood her desire to leave the colony more than most people might and he took her in. I guess he doesn’t have any money. He asked if I had an indigent fund. Or he said he could trade me something for treating the cat. He makes things. I guess he’s an artist.”
“What kind of things?”
“I didn’t get into that with him. I told him not to worry, that we would take care of his cat.”
“Nice of you.”
“What time’s the thing at the park tomorrow?” he asked as he accepted a block Lily offered him…and another…and another.
“Eleven thirty. I think I’ll sleep until ten.”
“Yeah, that’ll be the day that you sleep in,” he said, leaning over to stack the blocks on the floor. “You don’t even stay in bed when you’re sick.”
“Yes I do,” she said.
“When?” he challenged.
“Well, when I had chicken pox or measles or something, Mom made me stay in bed.”
Michael smirked playfully at his wife just before the toddler ran her push-toy into his block tower and laughed when blocks toppled in every direction.
****
The Ivey household was quiet that night until just before the clock struck two thirty.
“No! No! Stop! Please stop!”
It took Michael a moment to realize it was his wife calling out in the night. He gently shook her. “Savannah, wake up. You’re having a bad dream.”
“Huh?” She opened her eyes and glanced frantically around the room. “Oh Michael, I had a bad dream.”
“I know, hon,” he said, still sounding groggy.
She took a deep breath and wrapped her arms around him, holding on tightly for a few moments before resting back against her pillow. “That was frightening.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“Well, it was weird.” She squinted into the darkness. “It didn’t actually make much sense. There were all these hands reaching out toward Rags and I was trying to fight them off.”
“The hands?”
“Yes, only hands. Everything was in slow motion.” She paused before saying, “…except the hands. They were, like, frenzied…and they were all trying to grab Rags. Poor cat. He was so scared, but he didn’t seem to be able to move. I don’t know why. And I couldn’t get to him. The harder I tried to reach him, the farther away I got.”
Michael chuckled a little. “So what did he do to make the hands so mad?”
Savannah thought for a moment. “I’m not sure. He was being accused of something. It’s not clear what. I just wanted to grab him and carry him to safety, away from all those evil hands. Michael, they were going to tear him apart. It was like a mob.”
He grinned. “A mob of hands?”
“Well, yeah.” When she realized he was making fun of her, she let out a sigh. “Oh, I guess you just can’t understand someone else’s nightmare.” She reached up and turned on the bedside lamp. “Hi Ragsie,” she cooed when she saw their large grey-and-white cat sprawled out in his bed across the room. “Everything okay, boy?”
“He looks okay to me,” Michael said. “I guess he doesn’t know he was in your dream.”
“I’m glad of that. I don’t ever want to see him that frightened.” She turned off the light and lay back on her pillow. “I don’t ever want to be that frightened again, either.” Suddenly, she raised herself up on one elbow. “Michael, Kira was with him.”
“With Rags?”
She nodded. “It’s odd, but she wasn’t frightened. She just stood there watching…silently watching, all quiet and calm like she usually is. I was afraid for her, too. I sensed those hands were after both her and Rags and…” She started to cry. “…I couldn’t do anything about it.”
“It was a dream. That’s all,” he said, holding her and stroking her hair. “You and Rags are safe at home with me, and I’m sure Kira is sleeping soundly in her bed next door.”
“I’m not so sure they’re safe,” she murmured.
“Who?” he asked, frowning.
“Rags and the child.”
Michael grimaced. After Savannah had remained quiet for a while, he asked, “Do you think you can sleep now?”
She nodded.
“No more bad dreams,” he said, caressing her face with one finger. He kissed her. “Only good dreams now, okay?”
“Okay.” She rolled over and squeezed her eyes tightly closed, her thoughts coming like rapid-fire: I’ve got to find out what’s going on in this neighborhood. Surely that little girl isn’t to blame. And Rags—how could he possibly be involved? It doesn’t make sense. But everyone’s on edge, including me. It’s unnerving, to say the least. Are we in danger? Or are we all overreacting? It sure seems that someone is violating our privacy. But who and why? If that little girl is playing a role in all this, she could be in danger. And if her parents are putting her up to it, all the more reason to worry When she felt Michael roll close to her and envelop her in his arms, she let
out a sigh. I must get a grip. I can’t let this concern continue to fester.
Chapter 5
****
The Ivey family arrived at the park just after eleven fifteen with Gladys, Kira, and Rags. “Shall we spread our blanket here under this tree?” Savannah suggested. “What do you think, Kira? Do you like this spot?”
The child nodded and continued to glance around at the people and the activity. She peered into the carrier Michael held. “Can Rags come out?”
Michael thought about it, then said, “Oh, let’s let him check things out from inside there for now.”
“Can I hold his leash?” Kira asked.
“Sure,” Savannah said. “When he comes out, you can hold his leash. Do you want to go on stage with him? See that padded stool up there? I imagine that’s for him; what do you think?”
“Maybe,” she said studying the configuration of chairs and the one stool on the raised platform.
“I hope they don’t expect him to give a speech,” Michael quipped.
Kira looked at him sideways, then laughed a little. “Oh, you were making a joke.”
Just then a woman walked up to where Savannah sat with Lily on their picnic quilt. “Mrs. Ivey?” she said.
“Oh, hello. You’re the reporter. I’m sorry, I’ve forgotten your name.”
The well-dressed woman offered her hand. “Kayleigh Brown.”
Savannah stood and shook hands with her. “Kayleigh, yes, this is my husband, Michael, my mother, Gladys, and our friend, Kira.”
Kayleigh nodded briefly, then glanced at the carrier. “What’s in there?”
“Our cat.” He’s being honored today,” Savannah said.
“He’s a hero,” Kira explained.
The reporter lowered her brow. “Really. Now why didn’t someone tell me about this?”
“I don’t know,” Savannah said. “I was told we were on the agenda and they wanted him here.”
Kayleigh waved her hand in front of her. “Oh, I’m sure it’s fine. No problem.” She peered at the cat again, then smiled, saying, “This might actually give a nice human-interest twist to our story.” She put her hand on Savannah’s arm. “Did they ever find the guy who saved your daughter?”
“I…I don’t know,” Savannah said. “I haven’t heard anything.”
Kayleigh looked around the park. “I sure hope he shows up.” She glanced at the cat again. “That young man’s one of the real heroes, you know. Whether he makes it or not, we plan to tell your story, so we’ll need you on the stage. You and the baby. Oh, you’ll probably be there, anyway, with your cat.”
Gesturing toward Kira, Savannah said, “I think she’ll help us with the cat.”
“Good.” She looked at her watch. “Should be ready in five minutes or so. I’d better go check on the other honorees and heroes,” she said, rushing away.
It was more like ten minutes before Kayleigh motioned for Savannah and Kira to take the stage. Michael opened the cat carrier, snapped the leash on Rags’s harness, and handed it to Kira. “Hold tight,” he coached.
She nodded and squeezed her small hands around the leash.
“Well, come on,” Savannah coaxed as she walked with the baby toward the stage. Kira followed behind with Rags. When Michael noticed that the cat was more interested in the food spread out on some of the blankets than in walking with Kira, he rushed to pick him up and carried him the rest of the way.
“Thanks,” Kira said. “He wasn’t cooperating.”
It took a while for everyone to find their places on the stage. As they’d expected, Rags was to sit on the padded stool. Michael lifted him up there and Kira stood behind him, the leash wrapped around one hand. Savannah sat next to Kira. Filling in on either side of them were a couple of pre-teen boys wearing Boy Scout uniforms, a police officer, and a woman of about forty dressed in capris and a tank top. Savannah looked out over the crowd and spotted a few people she knew. She didn’t see June, however, and wondered why.
Once the program started, she watched as the young boys were introduced. The announcer revealed that they had been hiking with their troop when their leader fell down an embankment. The boys’ quick action had saved the man’s life. The police officer was celebrated for delivering a baby in a parking lot and recognizing there was a problem. His quick thinking was instrumental in the infant getting appropriate treatment in time. The woman was credited with alerting a family when she noticed smoke coming from their home late at night.
The next person called was Savannah, who reminded Kira to hold tightly to Rags’s leash as she moved toward the lectern with the baby. The MC introduced Savannah, then told her story: “This beautiful child was in her stroller on the sidewalk just last week when an elderly gentleman had a stroke and lost control of his car. A young man happened to see the accident about to happen and he shoved Mrs. Ivey and the child out of harm’s way just before the car careened out of control into a building, inches from where the mother and child were standing. Thankfully, no one on the street that day was hurt and the driver is recovering nicely, as well. We can’t thank the young man today because he ran off before he could be identified.” The MC chuckled. “I’ve heard of hit and run, but rescue and run, that’s a new one on me. We’re so thankful that these citizens are okay.” He turned to Savannah. “Thank you for being here and letting us share your story.”
He then nodded toward the cat. “Our last hero being celebrated today is of the fur variety—a feline, to be exact. After checking into his background, we’ve learned that not only has he saved people from danger, but he’s also saved fellow cats. You might remember reading a year or so ago that local newspaperwoman, Colbi Stanton, was kidnapped and held captive by the cat hoarders she was about to expose as scammers in an article she was writing. This cat—Ragsdale is his name—brought his owners, Savannah and Dr. Michael Ivey, a note reminding Mrs. Ivey of a cat hoarder she’d once visited. When she saw the name and address and remembered her rather disturbing encounter with that person, she called the authorities, who arrived at the hoarder’s home to find the place engulfed in flames with Ms. Stanton locked inside. She was rescued, as they say, just in the nick of time.”
He looked out into the audience. “Is Colbi Stanton here today?”
“She’s on her honeymoon,” Savannah said, quietly.
“Oh, she’s on her honeymoon,” the MC repeated. “Wonderful. Well, Ms. Stanton contacted us,” he glanced at Savannah, “evidently while honeymooning, to tell us her story.” He looked at the cat, who lay on the stool batting at a section of his leash that dangled below him. “But that’s not all, folks,” he said, referring to his notes. “It seems that Ragsdale—” he pointed. “that cat over there—recently saved Ms. Stanton’s own cat, Dolly, when he and Dolly were taken in a carjacking and turned loose in the mountains.” He shook his head. “What a cat.” After waiting for a round of applause to subside, he continued, “But that wasn’t the only nomination we received for this courageous and smart cat. June Balcomb at the Ragsdale Cat Ranch nominated him, as well. It seems that her cat, Mazie Mae, was taken from her estate and Ragsdale found Mazie Mae and heroically stuck by her, keeping her warm throughout the night until they were discovered. Mazie Mae was ill, you see. According to her veterinarian, Dr. Mike, Ragsdale’s actions probably helped to save her life.” The MC turned to Kira and asked, “Would you bring Ragsdale up here, please?”
When the policeman noticed Kira struggling to lift the large cat, he offered to carry him to the lectern. “Come on,” he urged the girl.
“What’s your name?” the MC asked.
“Kira Crane.”
“Is Ragsdale a friend of yours?”
“Yes, he lives next door,” she said quietly into the microphone as the MC held it at her level.
“Did you know he was a hero?”
She shook her head. “I knew he was a thief.”
The MC and the policeman were obviously taken aback. Savannah
and Michael exchanged looks, and many in the audience laughed. When the laughter subsided, the MC asked, “He’s a thief?”
“Uh-huh. He isn’t supposed to get out, but when he does, he steals things from our neighbors. He took my brother’s airplane and the Prestons’ baby’s shoe and…and…and some jewelry.”
The crowd roared.
“He takes jewelry?”
Kira nodded.
At that, the MC turned to the cat, holding the microphone under his chin. “What do you have to say for yourself, Ragsdale?” After a few moments, he pulled the mic away, saying, “I guess he has no comment.” When he turned to pick up the plaque with Rags’s name on it, the cat began to squirm in the officer’s arms.
Everyone watched as Rags sniffed the officer’s shirt pocket, then and pulled something out of it. Savannah struggled to see what her errant cat was doing this time. Why is everyone laughing and scrambling to take his picture? It wasn’t until Rags turned that Savannah could see the folded piece of paper dangling from his mouth. She cringed. Oh no, what’s he got now?
“What is that?” someone shouted.
“What?” the MC asked, glancing at the cat. When he noticed the paper in the cat’s mouth, the MC began to laugh uproariously. “Where’d he get that?”
“He took it from my pocket,” the officer said, chuckling.
“Well, look at that. He is a kleptomaniac.”
“What is it, your little black book?” someone shouted from the audience.
When the laughter died down, the MC put the mic up to the officer, who explained, “It’s my cheat sheet. I thought I might be asked to give a speech.”
At that, Rags dropped the paper and watched it float to the ground.
“I guess that’s what he thinks of your speech, officer,” the MC said, slapping the man on the back. He handed Kira the plaque. “Thank you for bringing Ragsdale today. Make sure you put this in a prominent place in his home.” He then spoke to the audience. “Okay, we need to wind this down. Thank you all for coming. And especially thank you heroes, for going above and beyond to help your fellow man.” Addressing Rags, he added, “…and your fellow felines.”