Cats of a Feather

by Patricia Fry

  After placing the second swab in the container and labeling it, Chris looked down at the part-Himalayan cat. “Buffy’s a beauty. Such a nice cat.”

  “In every way,” Savannah agreed.

  “Well, I’m off,” Michael announced. “You might make sure the pheromone plug-in keeps working. There’s another one on the desk if that one runs out. I left a few cans of kitten food in a small bag on the kitchen counter. Here’s his medicine; I just gave him a dose. He gets it three times a day.”

  “Okay,” Savannah said. “Any special instructions for his nurse?” “Yeah,” Michael said. “Glori, keep up the good work.” He picked her up and looked into her eyes. “You’re such a good girl.” He lowered her to the floor and took Foxy from Lily. “Let’s put him back in his safe place now, okay?”

  “I can do it,” Lily said.

  “Let me do it this time,” Michael said. “We don’t need any mishaps. This guy’s been through enough already.”

  “That’s my phone,” Savannah said. She used her hands to usher Rags out of the room. “Out you go, buddy. Come on, Lily,” she called, removing her phone from her pocket. “Let’s leave Foxy in peace.” Into her phone, she said, “Hello.”

  “Savannah Ivey?”

  “Yes.”

  “This is Pansy Delwood. I got your message. You say you adopted Tonka? How is he? I mean, a week doesn’t go by that I don’t think about that little kitty.”

  “So you remember him?” Savannah asked.

  “Oh, yes. I’ve had a lot of cats over my lifetime. I’m eighty-seven now, and I remember many of my kitties, but Tonka was one of the most memorable.” She laughed. “What a character. How is he? Is he getting along okay?”

  “Just fine,” Savannah said. “I adopted him shortly after you did, and we’ve been together now for about seven years. He turns eight this month. By the way, I renamed him…”

  “Again?” Mrs. Delwood said. “You know, his name was Gray Boy when I took him home. Gray Boy, can you imagine? How ordinary is that? So what’s his name now?” she asked. “What do you call him?”

  “I named him Ragsdale. I call him Rags.”

  “Oh,” Mrs. Delwood said.

  When she heard nothing more, Savannah said, “Hello? Are you there?”

  “Yes. Where did that name come from, if I may ask? What inspired it? Ragsdale?”

  Savannah chuckled. “Well, I wanted to call him Rags because his mother is a ragdoll, and he obviously isn’t—at least he doesn’t have the coloring and the long fur.”

  “Oh, yes. I remember them telling me something about a ragdoll. What is that, anyway?”

  “It’s a relatively new breed…well, it came about in the sixties,” Savannah said.

  Mrs. Delwood huffed, “There sure are a lot of those, aren’t there? Where do these breeds come from and why? What’s wrong with a cat looking like a cat, for heaven’s sake? Why are we disturbing the natural beauty of the cat and trying to make them look like something from Mars or Saturn?”

  Savannah chuckled. “Yes, some of the breeding attempts seem to have gotten out of hand. When Mrs. Delwood didn’t respond, she continued, “The ragdoll has the coloring of a Siamese cat—you know, cream and brown or lilac, blue, red. Some of them look a lot like a Himalayan with the points, while others may be differently marked. They have blue eyes and they’re large cats with a great disposition. They call them ragdolls because of their tendency to sort of sprawl and flop. They make great lap cats.”

  “That’s exactly the kind of cat I was looking for when I adopted Tonka,” Mrs. Delwood said. “They probably told me about his breeding and that may have been the reason I took him. I don’t remember for sure. What I do remember is meeting a quiet little guy who loved to be petted. He was so friendly…such a sweet boy. And then I got home with him.” She chuckled. “I had to wonder who his sire was. A tornado or a bulldozer?” Savannah laughed. “I’d love to hear about your experiences with Rags…or Tonka. How old was he when you took him in?”

  “Around six months old,” Mrs. Delwood said. “Maybe a little more. I only kept him long enough to change his name and for him to change my life.”

  “He changed your life?” Savannah asked, amused. “How?”

  “How much time do you have?” she asked.

  “Oh, so it’s a long story?”

  “Yes. Where do you live, dear?” Mrs. Delwood asked.

  “I’m in Hammond, north of San Francisco, but I’ll be down your way in a few days. Do you think we could meet?” “Will you have Tonka—I mean, Rags with you? I’d sure like to see him again. As I said, I often think about him. He had an allure I can’t forget. In fact, if I were younger, I would have kept him and found a way to make it work. The timing just wasn’t right for us. I knew he needed someone with a greater sense of adventure than I. I’d pretty much used up my quota of adventure and was ready to sit for a while and use my hands while resting my body. But Tonka had other ideas.”Mrs. Delwood laughed, then asked, “So you’ve had him for how long?”

  “Just about seven years. I adopted him probably a few weeks after you did—maybe a month. He’s still a handful, and he’s still adventurous. I wrote a whole book about my life with this cat and I’m working on two others.”

  “My gracious goodness,” Mrs. Delwood said, “he’s that interesting?”

  “Oh yes,” Savannah confirmed. “If you give me your address, I’d love to send you a copy of his memoirs. I call it his meowmoirs.”

  The woman laughed heartily. “Oh, this is really something. I’ve always felt an ache for having abandoned him. You can’t imagine how delighted I am to know he’s bringing joy to someone. I can’t thank you enough for contacting me.”

  “I’m glad,” Savannah said. “So do you still live in the Los Angeles area?”

  “Yes. You can send the book to thirty-seven East Bronson, Space thirty-nine.” She recited the zip code.

  “Okay, thank you. By the way,” Savannah said, “I’ll have Rags with me when I visit. You’re sure it’s okay if I bring him over?”

  “Absolutely. Puffy and I always enjoy visitors, although if my daughter brings her dog, Puffy will often hide.”

  “So you still have Puffy? She worked out okay for you?”

  “Just perfectly. She lacks some of what I liked about Tonka, but she’s just about perfect for me.” Mrs. Delwood paused, then asked, “Now, when did you say you’ll be here?”

  “Later this week—probably Thursday and Friday.”

  “Oh dear,” Mrs. Delwood said. “That won’t work. I just remembered, I’m going in for some minor surgery Thursday and they want me to stay in the hospital for a couple of days. Will you be here again with Tonka? I’d sure like to see him.”

  “Well,” Savannah said, “maybe, but I don’t have any other trips planned at this time. I’ll get that book to you. That’ll give you an idea of what…um…Tonka’s life has been like since you knew him. I think you might find it entertaining.”

  “Yes, thank you. It’s been nice talking to you,” Mrs. Delwood said.

  “Good luck with your surgery,” Savannah said. “Good-bye, now.”

  “Was that one of the people you want to interview about Rags?” Chris asked when Savannah ended the call.

  “Yes, Pansy Delwood. She owned Rags for…”

  “Oh yes,” Chris said. “She only had him for a short time and he did damage to some of her heirlooms.” She laughed. “I read about that in your book.”

  “Yes. It sounds like their relationship wasn’t made in heaven, yet, she misses him and thinks about him often,” Savannah said. “She was excited about the idea of seeing him, but she’s having surgery later in the week and won’t be able to meet with us. I sure hope Cathy, the woman who originally adopted him, is available.” She tapped her phone screen. “I’ll check my emails to see if she has responded. “Oh! Wow! This might be her. I think this is her.”

  “What does she say?” Chris asked. “You don’t look too happy.”
>
  “Yeah, listen to this, ‘Thank you for your note. I assume you’re referring to the kitten we adopted from the pet store on Avalon Street some seven or eight years ago. If you have an issue with us returning him, you can go to….’ Wow!” Savannah said. “Such language. She writes, ‘That cat was awful. They probably should have put him down. I have to say, I came close to it myself. There was no controlling him. I told them at the shelter that we were moving as a way to get them to take him back. They were reluctant. They knew what a horrible cat they had on their hands. In response to your question, no, I have no interest in revisiting that period in my life by participating in an interview, especially since I have no idea what you plan to do with the material. Leave me out of this. If you’re looking for someone to validate your plan to put him down or whatever, you’re on your own. Next time pay more attention to the red flags when you adopt a cat. Sorry I can’t help you, Cathy Clayborn.’”

  “She’s sure bitter about something, isn’t she?” Chris said.

  “Or guilty,” Gladys said. When the others looked at her, she explained, “Maybe she feels guilty for abandoning him.”

  “Do you think so?” Savannah asked. “Something’s wrong. I’ll reread my email to her and see if I said anything to put her on the defensive like that. Gads, I’m kind of glad I don’t have to interview her, although, it could give my book an interesting flavor.”

  “Yeah,” Chris said, “don’t be too hasty in writing her off.”

  Savannah looked at her. “Huh?”

  “This could be a valuable angle for your story. I’d give it another try with her. Tell her you’re not going to out her or anything, and that if you use something she tells you, you won’t identify her if she doesn’t want to be identified.” Chris tilted her head. “There’s no reason to identify her, is there?”

  “Probably not,” Savannah said. “I really would like to hear her perspective on Rags. She’s so filled with—well, I don’t know what—animosity, maybe. I didn’t expect that.”

  “So who else have you heard from besides the pet-store guy, the elderly gal who you just talked to, the shelter volunteer, and that hateful woman?” Chris asked.

  Savannah chuckled. “Hateful is right.” When Rags sauntered into the room, she said, “Oh, Ragsie, life must have been miserable for you with that woman. I’m so glad we found each other.” She looked at her notes. “Let’s see, we have an appointment to meet with Jeannie. She’s Rags’s mother’s owner. She’s in a minimum-security prison or jail facility.” Savannah raised her eyebrows. “That ought to be interesting. Chris, ever been inside one of those?”

  “Uh…” Chris stalled. “I have to admit, a time or two.”

  “Oh?” Savannah said.

  Gladys stared wide-eyed.

  “Well, I got involved in some of those protest rallies that used to be popular and was arrested a couple of times, with a whole lot of other people.”

  “But you didn’t wind up in prison, did you?” Savannah asked.

  “No. Just spent a few hours downtown. You know how it is.” She winced and said, “I also visited my husband in one of those places a few times, until I decided to divorce him. We’d already been separated for a couple of years. Yeah, I’m somewhat familiar with the system. You?”

  Savannah shook her head. “It’ll be a first for me.” She looked at her notes. “If we have time, I might also visit Edgar at the pet store, and I hope to be invited to Jeannie’s home to see Angel. The icing on the cake would be if Jeannie or someone else has information about the male cats that were hanging around when Angel slipped out on that secret date.” She frowned. “If, indeed, that’s how it happened.”

  Chris and Gladys chuckled. Chris said, “Yes, once we see the coloring of the female, I can pretty much determine what color Rags’s sire is.”

  “Really?” Savannah asked.

  “Yes, I want to see the colors, the depth of the color, whether it leans toward copper, blue, or....then we can use a formula taking into account Rags’s coloring to determine the possible color of the kitten-daddy.”

  “Cool, those are the people I’d like to talk to—the kitten-daddy’s humans, if there are any,” Savannah said. “I think that’s where we’ll get the juiciest material for the book.”

  “Sounds good.” Chris looked at her watch. “Hey, mind if I go get a shower before we start making lunch?”

  “Sure, go ahead,” Savannah said. Once Chris had gone up the stairs to her room, Savannah asked, “Mom, how’re you doing? Anything new about Karl? In fact, what was the bombshell his daughter dropped yesterday after I left? I haven’t had a chance to talk to you.”

  “Oh, that was a shock,” Gladys said, “but I’m so glad Jilly told all of this to Craig and to me. Jilly’s terrified that Karl will be upset with her because she spread their dirty laundry in front of us. They have such a good relationship, but she’s not going to stand by and watch her dad continue to make the same mistake again and again.” Gladys laughed. “And to think it was your cat who helped her stand strong and to chance making some waves in their otherwise calm existence.” She scoffed. “It’s a phony existence, if you ask me.”

  “Phony?” Savannah questioned.

  “Yes. Well, everyone’s wearing blinders and gags—see no evil, speak no evil,” Gladys huffed and continued, “In this case they’re all afraid to speak the truth. That’s even worse!”

  “Mom, you sound downright angry with Karl,” Savannah said.

  “With Karl, yes, and other members of that dysfunctional family.”

  “Dysfunctional?” Savannah questioned.

  “Well, Jilly and her husband come across as normal and reasonable people,” Gladys said, “but evidently there’s a freaky, abnormal, almost grotesque element to the family dynamic that I didn’t know anything about. Who would? They present themselves as an ideal family. Know what I mean?”

  “So you feel as though you’ve been deceived?” Savannah asked.

  “Yes, tricked, led astray, deceived.” Gladys shook her head. “Oh, I know it wasn’t exactly deliberate; no one was trying to deceive me. I just got caught up in their drama and it has led to a family secret coming out. Before that, I was completely unaware that there was any dysfunction in that family. You’re right, Vannie,” she spat, “I’m not happy about it.”

  Savannah gazed at the children to make sure they were occupied, then she sat down and asked, “So what happened? What’s the deep, dark secret?”

  Gladys folded her hands in her lap and heaved a sigh. “Karl’s relationship with his son.”

  “He has a son? Did you know that?” Savannah asked.

  “No. They evidently don’t have much to do with him except when he comes around wanting something, or in cases like this when he uses his father to avoid punishment for something he did.”

  “That’s sad,” Savannah said.

  Gladys nodded. “Vannie, evidently Karl has been taking the fall for this boy for years—you know, stepping up and accepting the blame and punishment so his son doesn’t have to. It’s ludicrous. It does absolutely no one any good, I tell you. No one. I hope Karl comes to realize that he’s doing his son no favors by protecting him like this.”

  “That is a rather sick family dynamic,” Savannah agreed.

  “Yes,” Gladys said. She winced. “I just hope Karl will own up to it, stop it, and take his life back.”

  Savannah stared at her mother for a moment, then asked, “So do you mean you think Karl’s willing to take the blame and do the time in what sounds like a very serious crime?”“Yes. It appears that’s exactly what he’s prepared to do.” Gladys shook her head in disgust. “It’s terribly disturbing to see a grown man allowing his immature son to behave in such an irresponsible manner. And it infuriates me to think that a grown young man would allow or expect a parent to do so. That’s not what parenting is all about!”

  “So what do you believe causes Karl to do this?” Savannah asked. “Is it out of some sort of misguided
love? Does he actually believe he’s doing his son a favor? Or is Karl afraid of the kid?”

  Gladys thought for a moment before saying, “Evidently the boy was sickly as a child, and his mother coddled him. When she died she made Karl promise he’d always take care of Daryl, no matter the expense.”

  “Oh, so maybe Karl has a sort of misguided concept of what is meant by taking care of the kid,” Savannah said. “In the process of trying to fulfill his wife’s wishes, he’s actually creating a monster and suffering in the process.”

  “That’s how I see it,” Gladys asserted. She added, “He’s certainly not doing the kid any favors.”

  “So did Jilly talk to Karl?” Savannah asked. “What’s he going to do?”

  “I don’t know what has happened since we saw Jilly yesterday morning—you know, whether she has talked to her dad or if Craig has talked to him. I should hear something maybe later today.” She grimaced. “But remember, I’m not family, so I don’t actually have a place in this.” Gladys choked up a little. “Now if I could just convince my heart of that.”

  Savannah put a comforting hand on her mother’s, just as her phone rang. She looked at the screen and said, “Oh my gosh, it’s that awful Cathy woman who used to own Rags. I wonder why she would call me after sending that scathing email.” She cringed. “I guess I’d better take it. Hello,” she said cautiously.

  Chapter Five

  “What happened?” Chris asked when she returned to the living room a few minutes later. She glanced at Gladys, then Savannah. “Is everything all right? You look like you’re in shock.”

  “Yeah,” Savannah said, “I just had a call I didn’t expect from Cathy—the gal who was so rude to me in her email.”

  “Oh? What’s her deal?” Chris asked.

  Savannah shrugged. “A mental disorder, maybe. She’s decided she wants to talk to me. We have a date to talk on Friday. Can you believe it?”

  “No. That email was pretty hateful.”

  “Yes, hateful,” Savannah agreed, “and rude, but she said she got to thinking about it and decided she’d maybe like to contribute to Rags’s book. She says she has some unbelievable stories to tell.” Savannah grinned. “At least that’s what she thinks. They might pale in comparison to the rest of his story—know what I mean?”