Meow and Forever

by Patricia Fry

  “I imagine,” Michael agreed. He asked Savannah, “So he’s okay?”

  “Seems to be,” Savannah said, petting Rags.

  “But, Craig, why would someone lock him up on their property?” Margaret asked.

  “Beats me,” Craig said. “Anyone got any ideas?”

  “I think that guy or lady is coming back to get Rags,” Simon said. When Craig stared at him, the boy added, “Maybe Rags scratched him and knocked that little package out of his pocket, so he put Rags inside there and ran away to get help or a box or something.”

  Craig smiled. “Hey, want to quit school and join the force?”

  Simon looked down at the ground, embarrassed.

  “Well, I think you have a nose for this work, young man,” Craig said. “I’m impressed. You could be right. Rags was too much for the guy or gal to handle and they gave up, but figured to come back when there weren’t so many people out here who might see him or her.”

  Simon smiled, and Peter affectionately squeezed the back of his neck.

  “Or,” Craig said, “someone could have scared him away. You kids, for example. He might have seen you and he was afraid that you’d see him, so he put Rags in the tack room until the coast was clear.” He looked around. “In fact, he could be out there somewhere waiting to get another chance at the cat.”

  “Why didn’t he take that quiet, calm cat?” Simon asked. “If he wants a cat so bad, he should take her. She doesn’t get all un-patient like Rags does.”

  “Good question,” Michael said.

  Savannah gazed across the terrain, saying, “I sure wish we had some answers.”

  ****

  “So, you’re off to visit the old folks today?” Michael asked the following Tuesday morning at breakfast.

  Savannah nodded. She eased Rags’s paws from her leg, saying, “No, Rags. Stop begging. You’re a bad example for Glori. Look at her. She’s not begging. She never learned that bad habit, did she? And I don’t want you to teach it to her.” She said to Glori, “You’d do better, sweet thing, to hang out more with Buffy. Rags can be a bad influence.” She smiled when Glori mewed.

  “Are you sure you want to take your cat with you?” Michael asked. “He doesn’t seem very cooperative today.” He looked down at Rags, “Maybe we should give him a light sedative to calm him. What do you think?”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” she said. “I’m taking some of Rags’s children’s books to maybe read to the residents. Rags has had experience doing reading therapy, so he might settle down for that.”

  Michael choked a little on his orange juice. “You think so, huh?”

  “Well, I told Joyce, the manager, that I’d be there with two cats—both Rags and Glori—so I think we’ll give it a try and see what happens. If Rags is a pill, we can just come back home or put him in the carrier. I’ll have one carrier with me.”

  “Will you have help with the cats?” he asked. “You aren’t going to try managing them both, are you?”

  “Joyce is meeting me there. She said she’d help me if I need it.”

  Michael chuckled. “Oh, you’ll need it.” When he realized that Savannah wasn’t in the mood for his pessimistic comments, he focused on Glori, saying, “Her hearing has improved, don’t you think so?”

  “I do,” Gladys said, pouring more juice into Teddy’s sippy cup. “She’s a lot more responsive. I don’t think she’s been run over by any of Teddy’s trucks in at least a few days.”

  “I gave Glori a ride in my buggy,” Lily chirped.

  “Did she like that?” Savannah asked.

  Lily nodded. “She only jumped out once, after Rags got in there with her.”

  “Oh, Rags,” Savannah complained. She faced Michael. “But yes, I’m sure Glori is hearing better, but it’s hard to tell how well she hears.”

  “Are there hearing tests for cats?” Gladys asked.

  “There are,” Michael said, “but probably a better indication of a cat’s hearing is what the owner observes. An astute owner can fairly accurately determine how well a cat hears by her behavior and reaction to everyday sounds.”

  “Yes, but all that would tell you is if the cat can or can’t hear,” Savannah said, “not the severity of any hearing loss.”

  “I guess so,” Michael said. “You can put two of our cats in a room, make a variety of sounds, and observe them both. You know that Rags has excellent hearing. So if Glori reacts to the same sounds in pretty much the same way, you can be fairly certain that she hears what he hears. As you said, to what degree might be more difficult to ascertain.”

  Savannah chuckled.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Well, just then you sounded like you were giving a presentation or counseling a client.”

  Michael grinned at her. “I was counseling a client.” He used his napkin and stood up. “I’m off to see the…”

  “Wizard?” Lily asked.

  “Actually, yes,” he said. When the others looked puzzled, he laughed. “The Persels have a parrot named Wizard, and he’s coming in to have his beak trimmed today.” He looked wide-eyed at Lily. “Have you been watching The Wizard of Oz ?”

  Lily nodded. “On Mommy’s laptop.”

  “Cool,” he said. He waved as he stepped out the door. “See you all this evening.” He winked at Savannah. “I hope you’re still speaking to your cat after his day at the old-folks’ home.”

  Chapter Five

  When Savannah walked into the assisted-living facility with Rags on his leash and Glori in a small carrier, she heard a friendly voice.

  “Savannah! You must be Savannah.”

  “I am,” Savannah said. She smiled. “And this is Rags and Glori, reporting for duty.”

  “Hi. I’m Joyce Cline. So nice to meet you and your sweet kitties. She glanced at Rags, then peered into the carrier. “This pretty calico must be the part ragdoll cat you told me about, right?”

  “I’m afraid not,” Savannah said, “although it’s possible that she could be. From what I’m told, one of Rags’s littermates was a longhair calico.”

  Joyce studied Rags. “He’s the part ragdoll? Are you sure? He doesn’t look anything like my ragdoll.”

  “Yes, his mother was a registered ragdoll, and no one knows who his father was.” She chuckled. “But the dad wasn’t a ragdoll, we’re pretty sure of that.”

  “I’d say not,” Joyce muttered, still looking down at Rags. She took a breath and invited, “Well, come on in. Do you have a leash for the calico?”

  Savannah nodded.

  “Let’s take her out of the carrier and join the others in the activities room. I thought we’d introduce them in a more informal setting, then maybe when you come back—if you choose to come back—you can go straight to those residents who want to spend time with the cats in their room.”

  “If you want to invite us back…” Savannah said.

  Joyce narrowed her eyes. “Why wouldn’t we invite you back? Is there something I should know?”

  “No. Not really.” Savannah took a quick breath. “Hey, I brought some of the children’s books that feature Rags. Do you think the folks would like to hear one of the stories? They kind of give a peek into his interesting personality.”

  “Oh, what a grand idea,” Joyce gushed. “Yes. While the cats wander around or do some lap-sitting, you can read to the residents. That would be great.”

  “Will the doors be closed?” Savannah asked. “I don’t want the cats to get out.”

  “Of course,” Joyce said. “We’ve been visited here by dogs of all sizes, and we know to keep the doors closed; don’t want any runaway dogs or cats.”

  As the women and the cats walked into the activities room, they heard comments from some of the residents there. “Cats. I love cats!”

  “Here, kitty-kitty.”

  “Oh, aren’t they pretty?”

  “Purrrty,” one woman said, laughing.

  “Everyone,” Joyce greeted, “this is Savannah and her cats, Rags and
Glori. Rags is the big boy and Glori is the fluffy calico. Does everyone know what a calico is?”

  “Tri-color,” one man said. “White, black, and ginger.”

  “Right!” Joyce said. “Or white, grey , and orange. I’m sure you have a lot of questions about the cats, so I’ll let Savannah introduce them to you and tell you a little about them. She brought some books she wants to read to you. These are children’s books and they star this big guy, Rags.”

  There were smiles and nods from several in the group, and more comments.

  “Can I hold a cat in my lap?” one woman asked. “I have a blanket here they might like.”

  After considering the invitation, Joyce suggested, “Why don’t we just let the cats walk around the room and get acquainted on their own terms for now?”

  “Good idea,” Savannah said. “I’d like someone to monitor the cats if they’re being held. Rags is sometimes a little awkward to manage because of his size.”

  “Absolutely,” Joyce said. “Let’s let them wander for a bit while you talk about them, then if they want a lap we’ll help them get settled. I’ll bring in another helper; Elaine’s good with cats.”

  “Perfect,” Savannah said, feeling more relaxed about the situation.

  She’d been sharing information and stories about Rags and Glori for several minutes when Rags suddenly jumped up onto a man’s lap. The gentleman gasped in surprise, then began petting Rags and talking quietly to him. He raised his hand and asked, “He knows stuff, doesn’t he?” When Savannah and Joyce seemed surprised, he explained, “He told me that you have kitty treats in your pocket.”

  Savannah patted her jeans pocket and realized that an edge of the treat packet was visible. She grinned at the man. “Yes, I do. I carry them to keep him from being too naughty. Did he tell you that he gets into trouble sometimes?” The man laughed. “Yes, but I didn’t believe him. I thought the pictures he showed me were from my imagination, not his mind.”

  “Like what?” asked the woman sitting next to him. “What did he tell you, Henry?” He continued petting Rags, saying, “Lots of things.”

  Savannah laughed. “Well, let me read one of these books to you, and you’ll get an idea of some of the mischief Rags gets into.”

  “What about Gloria?” another woman asked.

  “Glori,” someone else corrected.

  “Glori,” the woman repeated. “Does she talk to people and get into mischief?”

  Savannah looked at the calico, who lay across a small, frail-looking woman’s lap. She smiled. “We’ve only had her for a short time, and so far she’s been perfectly well-behaved—a real sweetheart.”

  “Purrrfectly behaved,” a larger woman said, reaching out to pet Glori.

  “Don’t,” the first woman said, slapping at her. “Glori’s resting. Go get your own cat.”

  “Everyone who wants a turn will have a turn,” Joyce announced. “Let’s listen while Savannah reads from one of her books. Aren’t you all eager to hear what mischief Rags gets into?”

  ****

  “So, how did it go?” Michael asked that evening while he watched Savannah put a salad together for dinner.

  “It was interesting,” she said. “The residents loved interacting with the cats.”

  “So Rags didn’t cause any trouble?” he asked.

  She grinned sheepishly. “I wouldn’t say that.”

  “Uh-oh,” Michael muttered. “What happened? Should I sit down for this?”

  “No,” she said, handing him a bowl of vegetable scraps. “How about putting these in the garbage?”

  “Well, what happened?” he asked seconds later, returning the bowl to her.

  Savannah glanced toward the living room where her mother was helping the children put away their toys. “I think Mom and the kids would enjoy the stories, so let’s wait. In fact, dinner’s ready. Want to tell them to get washed up?”

  “What are we having?” he asked.

  “Chicken cutlets, baked potatoes, green beans, and salad.” “Sounds good.” He called, “The show’s about to begin. Come take your seat.”

  “Huh?” Gladys said. “What show?”

  “Are we going to see a movie, Daddy?” Lily asked, running to join him.

  “No, punkin. Mommy’s going to tell us a story. Now get washed up; it’s time to eat.” He picked up Teddy. “Let’s get you washed.”

  “Grammy already washed me,” Lily said.

  “I did?” Gladys asked.

  Lily nodded. “Yes. Remember, I almost fell off my stool.”

  She giggled. “You said, ‘oopsie,’ Grammy. ‘Oopsie.’”

  Gladys smiled down at the child. “Yes, I remember. That was before lunch. I imagine those little hands have picked up some dirt and germs since lunchtime.”

  Lily stared inquisitively at her hands. “They have? Where? They don’t look dirty.”

  “Come on,” Gladys said, “I’ll help you wash.”

  Before Gladys could leave the room with Lily, there was a rap at the door and Margaret stepped inside. She complained, “I thought you were supposed to keep the house locked up.”

  “Yes,” Savannah said sheepishly, “when Michael’s not here.”

  Margaret glanced at Michael as he washed Teddy’s hands. “Yeah, what’s he going to do—give the intruder a vaccination, or maybe neuter him?” “Oh, Maggie,” Gladys said, “that’s crude.”

  “I thought it was funny,” Michael said, chuckling. He spoke more seriously, “But don’t forget, Maggie, I have a baseball bat.”

  Margaret grinned at him. “Yeah, have you ever used it?”

  “Sure I have,” he insisted. “I batted sponge balls around at the park for the kids and Lexie a couple of times.”

  Margaret smirked playfully at him.

  “So what brings you out this time of night?” Savannah asked.

  “It’s not late,” Margaret said.

  “Well, it’s dinnertime.”

  “For you, maybe. I ate a late lunch and Max is at a meeting, so I thought I’d come by and see how things went at the nursing home today.” She shimmied. “And I have news I can’t wait to share.”

  “You’re just in time to hear Savannah’s report,” Michael said.

  Savannah nodded. “Yeah. Join us. Want a plate? It’s chicken cutlets. I’ll share my baked potato with you.”

  “I might have some of that salad. That’s a good-looking salad.”

  Savannah set a place for her aunt. “So what’s your news, Auntie?”

  “Oh, just that I visited Iris’s—what does she call it? A volcano? A whirligig? A…”

  “Oh, that vortex?” Savannah corrected.

  “Yeah.”

  “Did you feel anything?” Savannah asked.

  “I sure did. It felt just like one of those gizmos you shock people with. It was like a light electrical shock, sort of.”

  “Where do you think it’s coming from, Maggie?” Michael asked.

  “Heck if I know. I walked through that area three times to make sure I was actually feeling something, and I did. I felt it every time.”

  “So that’s the place that Iris believes has healing properties?” Gladys asked. “What do you think about that, Maggie?”

  “Now, that I can’t say.” Margaret studied the palm of her hand. “Although I burned myself taking something out of the oven yesterday and boy, did that hurt. I can tell you that it doesn’t hurt anymore.” She held her hand toward the others. “You can’t even see I had a burn there, can you?”

  Savannah closely studied her aunt’s hand. “Just a little pinkish area right there.”

  “Yeah, but it’s practically healed,” Margaret insisted.

  “So Iris is back on her track to buy that property, is she?” Savannah asked. “And take people there for healings?”

  Margaret nodded. “Sounds like it. I don’t know how it’s going to work to have a spa—you know, a hot-water bath or sauna or something—and add electrical shocks to it. I don’t quit
e get the concept. Do you?”

  “Yeah, that doesn’t sound like it would work,” Gladys said. “Are you sure it’s not some sort of underground wiring that’s shorting out? Maggie, it could be dangerous.”

  Margaret recoiled. “Oh, I never thought of that.” After a few moments, she said, “Maybe it wasn’t exactly a shock, but a poof of air. Sort of damp, warm air.”

  “Like a geyser?” Michael asked.

  “Maybe,” Margaret said. “It hits you so quickly that it’s hard to explain exactly what it is, but it is something; I can tell you that!”

  Savannah shook her head. “I don’t understand any of it.” She stiffened and asked, “Do you hear that?” When no one spoke, she stood up. “It’s my phone. It has rung four times since we sat down here. I’m going to find out who’s so eager to talk to me.”

  “Savannah,” Michael called after her.

  “I’ll be right back,” she promised, quickly leaving the room.

  “Who was it?” Michael asked when she returned.

  Savannah glanced at her mother and her aunt, who were chatting with one another, and said quietly, “It was a voicemail from that darn guy who thinks he wants Rags. What’s up with that, anyway? I don’t get it. He says he just must have him.” She put her hand on Michael’s arm. “He said he was at the nursing home today and he really enjoyed learning even more about Rags.”

  “What?” Michael said. “Was your talk open to the public?”

  “No. And I can’t imagine that he happens to be a resident there. That would be too much of a coincidence.”

  “Maybe he works there,” Michael suggested.

  “Who works where?” Margaret asked. “Why are you two whispering over there?”

  “Oh, it’s that guy who claims he wants Rags. That was him calling on my cell phone.” Savannah took a deep breath. “He says he was at the nursing home today and heard me talking about Rags.”

  “Is he a resident?” Gladys asked. “Or maybe he works there.”

  “That’s what Michael said. I can’t imagine…” Savannah began, then she remembered, “Wait, he said he was making a delivery. Hey, I saw some guy come in and Joyce left the room with him. When she returned, I heard her say it wasn’t something they had ordered.” She thought for a moment. “In his message, he said he had a little trouble hearing some of what I said today because of the traffic. Do you suppose he was outside listening? I didn’t hear any traffic noise from inside.” She shook her head. “Now that’s just odd.”