Cats of a Feather

by Patricia Fry

  “Yes, and things are definitely coming together faster than I expected. I can’t wait to see what’s around the corner. The cat-DNA expert is flying in to meet Rags on Tuesday, and I checked my email just now and see that I’ve received a response from one of the key players in Rags’s history. Can’t wait to talk to him this afternoon.”

  Chapter Two

  “Are the kids still napping?” Michael asked when he got home later that day.

  “Actually, I just put them down—well, around two. Mom’s changing her clothes for a date with Karl. Did you eat? Want me to fix you something?”

  He thought for a moment and said, “It looks like you’re getting ready to work on your project, right?”

  Savannah nodded. “I’d like to make a few calls.”

  He kissed her. “You go ahead. I’ll find something to eat. Then I want to take care of a couple of jobs outside.”

  “Okay. I’m off to work then,” Savannah said giddily. “Catch up with you later.” She entered the office, placed her notepad on the desk, and studied her notes. Two responses already, plus the cat-DNA expert. I think I’ll call the pet-store manager first. She grinned. He says in his email that he remembers me adopting Rags because he remembers Rags. She chuckled to herself. He actually expected me to return the cat like the others had done. She picked up her phone and placed a call.

  “Edgar here.”

  “Hello, Edgar, this is Savannah Jordan Ivey. Thank you for replying to my email. I was rather surprised that you remembered my cat—or do you just keep really good records?”

  “A little of both,” he said. “So you still have that cat? You say you renamed him Rags?”

  “Yes, Ragsdale. I call him Rags.”

  “Uh-huh. He was Gray Boy before that, then Tonka when you took him. You were the third one to adopt that poor cat.”

  “You do have a good memory,” Savannah said.

  Edgar admitted, “He was a memorable cat.”

  “He still is,” Savannah said. “But you also keep pretty good records, right?”

  “Yeah. You never know when someone’s going to come back with a concern or a question. It’s a real plus in the customer-service department to keep records, and it’s fairly easy with computer technology. You say you’re trying to track down your cat’s siblings? I’ve never had anyone do that before.” He hesitated before saying, “Actually, I’m surprised you still have that cat. I didn’t think you’d keep him overnight, let alone for—what—seven years?”

  “Yes,” Savannah said. “I still have him. He’s a…well, he’s an interesting cat, and I’m extremely fond of him.”

  “Glad to hear it,” Edgar said. “So what do you want, the names of the people who adopted the rest of that litter? I do have a record of one adoption that year—earlier in the year, actually—and I’m pretty sure that kitten was from the same litter. But the others must have found homes through the shelter where they were being housed. Do you have their information?”

  “No,” Savannah said. “I was hoping…”

  “Sure, I can give you the director’s name and number. That’s not a problem, but the customer who took the other kitten, I’m not at liberty…”

  “I understand,” Savannah said. She thought for a moment, then asked, “Could you get in touch with that owner and ask them to contact me? I’d really appreciate it. Let them know I have their cat’s brother and that I’d like to talk to them—you know, to compare notes and possibly to reunite the siblings.”

  There was silence on the other end of the phone. Edgar finally said, “Again, that’s one of the most unusual requests I’ve ever had related to cats, although there have been some odd things come back to haunt us with regard to snakes and bearded dragons.” He chuckled. “One snake we sold was killed by the rat the folks bought here to feed to it and they wanted their money back for both animals.”

  “Oh my goodness,” Savannah said. “Well, you can rest assured that I’m not going to try returning my cat to you, and I have no plans to intrude on anyone. At the least, I’d like to know something about Rags’s siblings’ personalities and character traits, and I’m pretty sure the other kittens’ owners would be interested in knowing about Rags.”

  “Like I said, it’s highly unusual, but interesting.”

  “So the kitten you adopted out—the one you think was from Rags’s litter—that was a female, right?” Savannah asked. “When I took Rags, I remember you saying he was one of four kittens, and he was the only boy. You said that one of the siblings was a calico, and the other two looked like the mom. So which one did you adopt out?”

  “It was the calico,” Edgar confirmed. “I remember to this day marveling at how different your cat and the calico were in every way. Yes, I was happy to send her home with that gal. Your cat…well, I almost decided not to go through with the sale to you. So you’re doing okay with him, huh?”

  “Yes,” Savannah said. “Hey, give me your address or the store address and I’ll send you the book I wrote about him. You may get a kick out of his story.”

  “Sure!” he said, with enthusiasm. “I’ll text you the address when we get off the phone. Thanks.”

  “And thank you. I’m eager to hear back about the calico. Oh, and you were going to send me contact information for the shelter.”

  “Sure, I’ll send that in my text as well.”

  ****

  “How’s it going?” Gladys asked when she saw Savannah heading for the kitchen thirty minutes later.

  “Good.” She stopped and thought for a moment. “You know how it is with something like this—one step forward and two steps back—but it’s mostly forward motion so far.” She walked closer to where her mother sat. “I want to see if I can figure out what Rags’s sire might look like. According to what I’ve read, an expert on cat genetics can figure it out by looking at the dam and the kitten.” She sat down. “And did you know that a litter of five kittens can each have a different father? Five different fathers. It’s probably unusual for that to happen, but what I’m saying is, it’s possible. Well, I knew that a female cat can be visited by more than one male during her heat cycle, and that each mating can result in more kittens. But I guess I never considered how many different fathers a litter of kittens could possibly have.”

  “So that’s why you see such a rainbow of colors in some litters?” Gladys asked. She cocked her head. “Why are you studying this just now? Wasn’t cat genetics part of your veterinary training?”

  “Not to this degree. I’m finding it a fascinating study, but also a bit contradictory.”

  “I guess that’s science,” Gladys said, “especially a relatively new branch of science. So Rags’s siblings could be only half-sisters and brothers?”

  Savannah nodded. “Yes, sisters. He evidently had no brothers. It would be great to find out that some of the kittens are his full siblings, but it’s doubtful. I’ll learn more about that if I can track down Angel’s owners.”

  “Angel?”

  “She was Rags’s mother. That, I guess, we know.”

  “Vannie, the way people move around these days and change lifestyles, it would be a miracle if any of those cats are still where they were seven years ago.”

  Savannah smiled. “Which makes this project all the more fascinating.”

  Gladys huffed, “Yeah, well, I think you’ve been hanging around Detective Craig too much. It seems you’re becoming even more adventurous the older you get.” She looked across the room where Rags and Glori, shared the ottoman. “Or it could be because of your cat. I mean, he’s leading you astray with his taste for adventure.”

  “Could be,” Savannah agreed. She walked into the kitchen and returned with a glass of water. “When are you leaving?” she asked.

  “Karl’s picking me up any time now,” Gladys said. She nodded toward the hallway. “How late are you going to let the children sleep?”

  Savannah considered her mother’s question. “I think for as long as they want to. We’ve
been so busy, it would be nice to enjoy a family evening at home without having to rush them off to bed by seven thirty.”

  Gladys smiled. “Sounds nice.” She saw Karl out the window and perked up. “He’s here. See you later. Don’t wait up for me.”

  “Sure won’t. Have fun, Mom.” She winced. “I hope you two can enjoy the evening in spite of the problems he’s been dealing with these last few days.” When her phone chimed, Savannah picked it up and looked at the screen. She couldn’t contain her excitement. “Oh, I’ll bet that’s the gal from the cat shelter in LA. Hello,” she answered while waving to Gladys. “This is Savannah.”

  “Hi, Savannah. I’m Marilyn Acosta at Kitty Haven. The director, Betsy Braun, asked me to return your call. She said you’re interested in the family of one of our litters.”

  “Yes, as I understand it there were four kittens. The mother cat was Angel, a ragdoll. Her kittens were handed over to you, I guess, and you adopted two of them out through the pet store in that mall on Avalon. There was a grey-and-white male originally called Gray Boy and three females. One was calico and the other two looked more like the mother with the ragdoll markings—at least that’s what Edgar, at the pet store, told me at the time I adopted my cat. Oh, I took the one known as Gray Boy. I know it’s been a while, but do you remember them?”

  “I sure do, which is why Betsy asked me to return your call.”

  Savannah yelped, “Oh. Wow! You’re familiar with them? This is exciting.”

  “So you have the male from that litter?” Marilyn asked.

  “Yes,” Savannah confirmed.

  “And you’ve had him all this time?” Marilyn asked. She lowered her voice. “How’s that going?”

  “It’s going well,” Savannah said. “I love him to pieces. We have quite a bond.”

  “Really? So has he settled down as he’s matured? We weren’t sure he would.”

  “Well…” Savannah hesitated.

  Marilyn began to laugh. “Okay, give it to me straight. He’s a handful, isn’t he? No way was that cat going to settle down and become a docile house cat. Am I right?”

  Savannah joined her in laughter. “So you do remember my boy.”

  “Girl, I’ve been here for nearly twelve years—first as a volunteer and now as co-manager. We work with a lot of cats—rescues with serious health issues and injuries, healthy litters of kittens, senior cats who’ve lost their human and have no place to go—and they come to us with all kinds of personalities. I love them all, but some stay in my heart longer than others. Your cat, Gray Boy—well, he’s one I’ve never forgotten.”

  Savannah chuckled. “He made a lasting impression, did he? Frankly, he still has that knack. Few people who’ve met him forget him.”

  “I can understand that,” Marilyn said. More quietly, she asked, “How do you sleep at night?”

  Savannah burst out laughing. “Oh, my gosh, Marilyn, you’ve got to tell me what you remember about Rags. That’s his name now. Rags…Ragsdale.”

  Marilyn hesitated before asking, “How much time do you have?”

  “He was that naughty?”

  “You must know,” Marilyn said. “You’ve lived with him for nearly eight years.”

  Savannah thought about how to respond, finally saying, “Well, he can get into mischief; he’s very curious and creative.”

  “Oh, that’s what you call it?” Marilyn quipped.

  “Yeah, he can be naughty, but he’s not that bad, really. Maybe that’s because we sort of channel his energy. We live in a large home, so he has a lot of space and enrichment. He walks on a leash, so we take him out fairly often. He also rides in a backpack for longer hikes. He’s been known to ride with me on my horse, and he works with local law enforcement solving crimes and identifying criminals.”

  “What?” Marilyn shrieked. “Oh, girl, we must sit down and talk. I want to hear more about this cat.”

  “How about if I send you a copy of his memoirs,” Savannah suggested.

  “You’ve written about him?” She paused. “Yeah, I can see that. Oh, that’s classic—a book about little troublemaker Gray Boy. I’d love a copy. Thank you. Let me know the price and I’ll mail you a check. You can send the book here to the shelter if you want, and I’ll share it. There are others here who remember him, as well. He comes up in conversation once in a while. One gal said she almost gave up volunteering after him.”

  Both women laughed, and Marilyn asked, “Is the book in ebook form?”

  “Yes,” Savannah said.

  “Well, I’m really eager to see it, so I think I’ll just order it for my reader. What’s it called?”

  “Meowmoirs of a Klepto Cat,” Savannah said.

  “He’s a klepto?” Marilyn yelped. “Oh, this I must read.”

  Savannah chuckled. “Well, Marilyn, this has been enlightening.”

  “For me too.”

  “I would like to get together and chat one day,” Savannah said. “We can exchange stories about Rags. But what I’m trying to do now is trace down his siblings and his mother, if at all possible. Can you help me with that?”

  “Why?” Marilyn asked.

  “I’m rather curious about the personalities and quirks of cats with his DNA, and my findings just might result in another book.”

  Marilyn was quick to say, “Well, I doubt you’ll find anything unusual about the other kittens in his litter. They seemed like normal laid-back kittens to me. And their mom is a typical ragdoll. Maybe you should go in search of the sire.”

  “Yeah, finding him is on my wish list, but I imagine that would be difficult,” Savannah complained.

  “Not necessarily. I’m friends with the gal who owns Angel.”

  Savannah shivered with excitement, “They still have her? You know where Rags’s mother is?” “Yes,” Marilyn confirmed. She thought for a moment and said, “But I’m not sure they know who the sire is. Jeannie and her husband bought Angel from a breeder, and they bred her almost immediately to one of the males in their cattery. Everyone was shocked when the kittens were born. A mixed litter was not expected. I guess there was a lot of drama and accusations. No one seemed to know what happened; if they did, they weren’t admitting to it.” She paused, then said, “It’s a wonder your little guy, Gray Boy, survived. I remember that the whereabouts of those kittens was supposed to be kind of hush-hush. Jeannie was eager for us to find homes for them as soon as possible, before…”

  “Before what?” Savannah said.

  Ignoring her question, Marilyn asked, “So you want to know more about Gray Boy’s heritage? That’s odd. I mean, I can imagine chasing down bloodlines for a purebred, but he’s…”

  “It’s his personality,” Savannah explained. “I’m curious about the characteristics and traits of Rags’s sisters and his mother. And, yes, I’d love to find his sire, as well. I’m working with a cat-DNA specialist, so I’m hoping we can narrow it down to what color male we should be looking for.” When Marilyn didn’t respond, Savannah continued, “In the meantime, I’d love to meet Angel and her family. Can you put me in touch with them?”

  “Well, yes, I can, but…um…” Marilyn stammered.

  “Is there a problem?”

  “Well…sort of…I mean…actually, Savannah, Jeannie’s in prison. Her sister’s staying at her house with Angel and Jeannie’s children and the other cats.”

  “They have other cats? Also ragdolls?” Savannah asked.

  “Yes,” Marilyn said. “Jeannie and her husband, Drew, breed ragdolls. He’s particularly interested in queens with the potential to have large litters of show-quality kittens. Get this,” she added, “he wants to build their reputation so he can legitimately get two thousand dollars for each, or even more.”

  “For ragdoll kittens?” Savannah asked.

  “Yes,” Marilyn said. Her tone became cross. “Jeannie just loves the cats, but Drew sees no reason to have them unless they’re producing and making them some money.” She tittered. “You can imagine his horror
when your cat showed up in his registered ragdoll’s litter.”

  “Oh, my gosh, yes.”

  “Like I said, if it weren’t for Jeannie, I’m pretty sure your cat wouldn’t exist. He would never have had a chance to be naughty or otherwise,” Marilyn explained.

  Savannah gasped. “Oh, that’s an awful thought.” She lowered her voice. “You don’t care much for your friend’s husband, do you?”

  “Does it show?” Marilyn snarked.

  “So what’s she in prison for?” Savannah asked gently. “What happened there?”

  “Shoplifting charges. Everyone who knows her swears she didn’t do it, and I wouldn’t have believed it, but this is her third offense, and…”

  “And she has children?” Savannah asked.

  “Yes, a seven- and a four-year-old.” Marilyn chuckled. “Among other charges, she’s accused of walking off with a purebred ragdoll kitten from a cat show. Drew wants to get into showing—you know, to get more recognition for their cattery.”

  “Gads,” Savannah said, “and she gets caught stealing a purebred kitten? That’s not going to earn her many brownie points in that world. How did she think she’d get away with it? She couldn’t successfully use it for breeding. She couldn’t show it. She’d be found out, wouldn’t she?” “You’d think this would squelch any and all possibilities of their participation in cat shows, but she returned the kitten, and there were no charges. She was arrested for taking a diamond necklace from a jewelry store. She’s the nicest gal. It’s really hard to imagine she would do any of that, but I guess when you have a disorder, your brain speaks a different language, unless…”

  “Unless?” Savannah prodded.

  “Unless she didn’t do it.”

  “But if she was caught with the merchandise…” Savannah started.

  “And I guess she confessed,” Marilyn said. “I wonder if we’ll ever know what really happened.”

  “Well, I particularly dislike people who take someone else’s cats,” Savannah huffed. “It’s happened to me too many times.”