by Patricia Fry
“You really do know your way around this place, don’t you?” Chris said minutes later as Savannah drove through city streets and connecting freeways.
“Pretty much. We moved here when I was eleven, and I stayed until I married Michael, so I had a lot of experience driving here, although this isn’t the most congested part of LA. It’s easy to navigate through most of these rural outskirts. Here we are,” she said, parking the car.
She picked up Rags and carried him into the clinic. “He has an ingrown toenail…well, claw,” she told the receptionist. “It’s growing into the pad. We’re visiting LA and I didn’t bring the proper tools to take care of it.” Looking sheepish, she said, “He didn’t show this to us until after hours, so here we are.”
“No problem,” the pert receptionist said. “We’ll get you in. It’s fairly quiet so far this evening.” She handed Savannah a form on a clipboard and asked her to fill it out, saying, “Please take a seat.”
Savannah and Chris sat down a few seats away from another woman. A canvas carrier sat on the chair next to her.
“He has an ingrown toenail?” the woman asked after Savannah had returned the paperwork to the receptionist. “I’ve never heard of that with a cat. How does that happen?”
Savannah smiled. “It usually occurs in older cats and in certain breeds. The ragdoll might be one of them. Of course, a ragdoll is a relatively new breed, so I guess you’d have to go back to which cats contributed to this breed to find out if he’s actually susceptible to the problem. I know that the Himalayan is prone to have this happen.”
“Ragdoll?” the woman asked, looking at Rags suspiciously.
“Oh yes, that’s a breed of cat and…”
“I know,” the woman said, “but he doesn’t look anything at all like what I thought a ragdoll was. They look a lot like a Himalayan, don’t they?”
Savannah laughed. “Yes, kind of and no, he sure doesn’t, but it’s true. His mother was a ragdoll.”
“You learn something new every day,” the woman said. She faced Savannah and glanced down at her carrier. “Actually, Jazzie’s part ragdoll on her mother’s side too. I’d never heard of the breed before I found her.”
“Really?” Savannah said. She spoke to Rags. “Hey, buddy, see that sweet little girl in there, she’s part ragdoll like you are.”
Chris chuckled. “Yeah, he sees her. Look how interested he is. He’s pulling to go visit her.”
The woman looked through the mesh at her cat. “She hates going anywhere in her carrier. I just can’t get her used to it. She’s in there shaking and quaking right now.” She put her hand on the carrier in a comforting manner. “I feel so bad for her.”
“Yeah, a lot of cats have veterinarian anxiety or carrier anxiety,” Savannah said. She looked down at Rags. “He seems to enjoy going out no matter where it is—even to see a veterinarian.”
The woman stared down at Rags. “What’s his name?”
“Rags. Well, Ragsdale. I call him Rags—partly in honor of his heritage.” She added more excitedly, “We may get to meet his mother tomorrow.”
Rags pulled harder toward the carrier. “No Rags,” Savannah said, holding onto the leash. “You don’t want to scare poor Jazzie.”
“Oh that’s okay. She likes other cats. Let’s see if she likes Rags. Jazzie, Jazzie, honey, look—Rags wants to meet you.” She picked up the carrier and turned it so the calico could see him. The colorful cat began sniffing the air. She stared out at Rags as he walked closer, and she continued sniffing—her little nose wriggling, her large eyes focused on him. He, too, was interested in her scent.
“She likes him. Look at that,” the woman said, smiling. “By the way, I’m Irene.”
“Savannah,” she said. “This is Chris. Yes, there seems to be a love connection.”
Irene smiled. “Jazzie, want to come out and meet Rags?” She looked at Savannah. “By the way, she’s not contagious. She gets chronic ear infections and I brought her in for a well-check and possibly another round of the ear drops.”
“After hours at an emergency vet? Isn’t that kind of expensive?” Chris asked.
Irene shook her head. “It’s my work schedule. I’ve been out of town for a few days and Jazzie’s had a petsitter. She’s wonderful, but I don’t want to ask her to take her to the vet too.” Irene opened the carrier door, lifted out the calico, and put her on her lap.
“Savannah, she looks just like your other cat,” Chris remarked.
“Yes, she does look a lot like Glori,” Savannah said. “She’s really cute. Is she as sweet as she is cute?”
“Oh yes. I love her. I’ve had her for four years. I still can’t believe those other people wanted to give her away,” Irene said.
Everyone chuckled when Rags reached his paws up onto Irene’s knees and sniffed Jazzie. He sat back down on the floor and stared at her, then stepped up again and sniffed. When he started licking the calico’s cheek, Irene petted him. “What a sweet boy you are.”
“Maybe he thinks that’s his kitty, Glori,” Chris suggested.
“Maybe,” Savannah said. “He took a liking to Glori right away. I always thought she must remind him of his sister.”
“He has a calico sister?” Irene asked, surprised. “That seems almost impossible, doesn’t it? I mean, their coloring is so different.”
Savannah motioned toward Chris. “That’s what we’re here in LA to find out.”
Irene looked at both women. “What? Find out what?”
Savannah said more quietly, “We’re here to trace Rags’s roots—you know, see if we can learn something about his heritage.”
“Why?” Irene asked, puzzled.
Before Savannah could respond, Rags climbed into Jazzie’s carrier and came out with a small toy rabbit. He dropped it on the floor at Irene’s feet and pawed at Jazzie as if he wanted her to come down and play with him.
“As you can see,” Savannah said, “he has a big personality, and I thought it would be interesting to find out if his sisters and brothers do too.”
“He works with the police department up north,” Chris added.
Irene looked at Chris, then at Savannah. “The police department? Oh,” she said, “is he one of those animals they use in airports these days to support frightened passengers?”
Savannah chuckled. “No, he hasn’t landed a regular job yet. He’s a klepto, you see—he steals things, and that has gotten him into some trouble, but he sometimes comes up with a clue that helps solve a mystery or even a crime.”
Irene stared at Rags. “Really?”
“So, Irene,” Savannah prompted, “you say Jazzie’s four years old?” She chuckled at Rags’s fascination with the calico. “I’ll bet if you put her on that chair, he’ll lie with her to comfort her. She’s not shivering and shaking so much now, is she?”
“No,” Irene said. She tilted her head. “That’s a first. I’ve never seen her settle down like this during any vet visit. He could be a support cat for other animals.”
“He does that sort of work too, doesn’t he, Savannah?” Chris said to Irene, “Her husband’s a veterinarian, and they do a free clinic on Thanksgiving for pets that live on the streets with the homeless. They actually use Rags to calm those frightened dogs and cats while they’re being examined.”
“Dogs?” Irene questioned. “Jazzie’s really afraid of dogs, but then she’s afraid of a lot of things. To answer your question, Jazzie’s more like seven or maybe eight years old. She was already grown when I got her. She kept hanging around my condo for some reason—maybe because I had no animals or small children and she felt safe. It took a while, but I found out where she lived and I talked to her owners. They said their son had just gotten a dog, and it wasn’t working out for Jazzie. They evidently tried to make it work, but Jazzie kept running away. I told them I’d love to have her if they didn’t want her anymore and they agreed. They’re the ones who told us her mother was a ragdoll.” She snuggled with the calico. “I’m just s
o glad we found each other. She’s a wonderful cat.”
Irene placed Jazzie on the chair next to her as Savannah had suggested and continued petting her. Immediately Rags jumped up onto the chair, lay down next to her, and put one paw on hers. She sniffed his paw, then licked it a couple of times.
“Now that’s new,” Irene said. “I’ve never seen her so relaxed around strangers, especially another animal. I don’t think she knows she’s an animal.”
“So you don’t have any other pets?” Chris asked.
“No, but there’s a cute pair of kittens next door that come and peer at Jazzie through the sliding glass door. Jazzie hides behind a small table and watches them. She won’t engage. I’ve never seen her engage with another animal like this.”
“Oh my goodness,” Savannah yelped, staring down at the calico.
Before she could finish her thought, the technician called for Jazzie to come into the back area.
“Wait,” Savannah said, staring at the calico. “Jazzie. You say she’s around eight years old?”
Irene nodded. She put Jazzie back into the carrier and closed its door.
“Irene,” Savannah said. “Oh my gosh, Irene, Jazzie might actually be Rags’s sister.”
Irene stood stunned. She looked down at Rags, then into Savannah’s eyes. “What? How could that be?”
“I told you that Rags had a calico sister. He just turned eight, and I learned recently that his calico sister’s name was Jazzie.” When she realized the technician was waiting, she walked slowly in that direction with Irene saying, “I’d really like to talk to you some more. May I call you?”
“Yes,” she said, reciting her phone number. “I’ll be in town for the next three days, then I’m off again. Please contact me; I’m interested in knowing more.”
“Wow!” Chris said once the two women were alone again with Rags. “What are the odds?”
Savannah looked down at Rags. “Where Rags is concerned, you just never know what odd, unusual, strange, out-of-the-ordinary thing is going to happen.”
Chapter Six
“Well, Savannah Jordan…um…Ivey,” the veterinarian said provocatively when he entered the reception area minutes later. “I wondered if that was you and Rags. You still have that crazy cat?”
“Dr. Brad,” she said, smiling. “And I wondered if you still worked here.”
“Sure do—just been waiting for you to bring him in again, and here you are—eight…nine years later?”
“More like seven,” she corrected. “Dr. Brad, this is my friend, Chris Tomlinson.”
“Tomlinson,” he repeated, shaking her hand. “Christine? Haven’t I read something about you or written by you lately? It had to do with a topic I’m wildly interested in—cat DNA.”
Chris smiled. “You probably did. Yes, I’m dabbling in the cat-DNA field.”
“I guess you are,” Dr. Brad said. “You have a fine reputation.” He looked at Savannah. “So are you practicing, or have you rolled over into the genetics field too?”
“No, I’m a mom and wife in Hammond. Chris and I are—well, we’re trying to track down some of Rags’s relatives. I want to find out more about his genetic ties.”
“Why?” he asked with curiosity.
“Well, you might not know this, but the crazy cat, as you call him, has a reputation of his own.”
He snickered. “Yeah, I’ll bet he does.”
“He’s a celebrity,” Savannah said.
“A celebrity criminal?” He sneered. “It seems to me he was burglarizing your neighborhood last time we talked.” He laughed. “You asked if there was a remedy for that. Have you found one?”
“Not really,” she admitted. “Yeah, he’s still a klepto, but he also helps fight crime.” When the veterinarian looked skeptical, Savannah said, “He has pawed culprits, found missing persons…he even saved a baby who was about to fall from a second-story balcony.”
The veterinarian studied Savannah for a moment, then said, “Well, what’s going on with him this evening? It says here he needs his nails trimmed. Savannah, you brought him in for that?” He grinned at her and said coyly, “You really did want to see me, didn’t you? How flirty of you.”
She winced, then explained, “I just arrived here an hour or so ago and noticed he has a problem with one of his claws. I don’t have the proper tools with me.” She lifted his paw. “See, it’s growing into the pad.”
“Yikes,” he said. “Yep, we’d better take care of that.” He grinned. “It’s awfully nice seeing you, just the same.” He took a deep breath and walked away, suggesting, “Come in here and put him on the table.”
Once Rags’s nails were back in good shape, Savannah and Chris said goodbye to the veterinarian and returned to the lobby just as Irene was about to leave with Jazzie. “How’d it go?” Savannah asked her.
“Oh, she’s fine. Just needed another dose of her ear meds. And Rags? Is he okay?” “Yeah, got his paw-dicure. He’s happy.” Suddenly Rags pulled against the leash. “Oops, I think he wants to say goodbye to Jazzie.” Savannah gave him some slack and Irene placed the carrier on the floor. The three women smiled down at the cats and Savannah asked, “So Irene, do you know the names of the people who originally adopted Jazzie?”
“Yes, Bertles.”
“That’s them!” Savannah squealed. “Rags, oh my gosh.” She grabbed Chris’s arm and jumped up and down. “She’s Rags’s sister!” She explained, “The pet-store manager got permission from the Bertles for me to contact them. I don’t think he knew they’d given the cat away. I’ve left messages, but they haven’t called me back. Irene,” she said, “Rags is Jazzie’s brother.”
Stunned, Irene asked, “How can that be? I mean, I believe in coincidences, but this…”
Smiling widely, Chris asked, “Irene, would you let me take a swab of her DNA? This will tell us for sure whether or not Jazzie is Rags’s sister.”
Before Irene could respond, Savannah said excitedly, “Then, I’d love to sit down with you and learn more about her personality, and maybe speak with her previous owners as well.”
Irene recoiled and asked, “Are you a researcher or writer or something?”
“Well, Chris is the researcher,” Savannah said. “She’s a scientist specializing in cat DNA. As I told you, Rags is a rather interesting cat. I’d like to know more about his beginnings and see if we can find out if this is genetic or situational or environmental or what. And yes, I plan to write about our findings—Chris probably will do so too, in scientific journals.”
“Gosh, my Jazzie might become a star?” Irene squealed.
“If you want her to, I guess,” Savannah said. “But yes, I’d love to include her story and pictures in the book I plan to write.”
Irene complained, “I know a lot of people who plan books and never get around to writing them.”
“She’s already written one book,” Chris said.
“Oh yes, I have copies in the car. I’ll go get one for you,” Savannah suggested. “Let me take care of my bill here, and I’ll meet you out front. We’re in the white SUV.”
Irene sighed. “Well, okay.”
“No charge,” the receptionist announced. “Dr. Brad said to tell you that it was his pleasure.”
“Wow! Well, tell him thank you very much,” Savannah said.
“Can we take his picture?” the receptionist asked.
“Oh, a picture of Rags? Yes. Sure.”
“He’s the one in the documentary, right?” a woman in the back of the reception area asked. “I told Meghan and Sylvia that I thought he was the same Rags I saw in that documentary.”
“Yes,” Savannah said. “You saw it, huh?”
“Several times on TV. He’s one amazing cat. You mentioned a book? I’d like to buy a copy from you if I can.”
“Sure.”
“Give me your keys and I’ll get one,” Chris said. “Go ahead and take your pictures. I’ll be right back.”
By the time the two women caught
up with Irene in the parking lot, she had loaded Jazzie into her car. She handed Savannah a card. “This is my address. Want to bring him over tomorrow sometime? Early morning is best for me. Around eight or nine?”
“Perfect,” Savannah said, looking at the address. “Oh, I know where this is. You live near Rags’s agent.”
“His agent?” Irene asked, glancing down at Rags. Skeptically, she asked, “Who’s that?”
“Rob Willoughby.”
“Rob?” Irene cried. She looked down at Rags again. “He’s my next-door neighbor! It’s his and Cheryl’s kittens that come around and frighten Jazzie.”
“They have two kittens now?”
“They sure do. Well, they aren’t kittens anymore, but they still come around once in a while. Wow, small world. So Rob’s Rags’s agent—a cat’s agent?”
“Yes, Rob did the documentary and commissioned some children’s books about Rags. He sets up promotional opportunities and things for us.” She winced. “I really should let him know I’m in town. I haven’t even told him about this crazy thing Chris and I are doing. I’d better update him. Yes, we’ll see you tomorrow, say 8:30?”
Irene nodded, still a little overwhelmed by what had happened that evening.
“So your agent lives in this area?” Chris asked, as Savannah drove them back to her mother’s house.
“Yes. I’d better call him tonight,” Savannah said absentmindedly.
“How about dinner?” Chris asked hesitantly. “Don’t you ever stop for dinner and other incidentals—like maybe sleep?” Chris joked.
“Oh yes, food. That’s probably a good idea. I know a good Chinese take-out place. How does that sound?”
“Great. Yes. Let’s do it. I’m going to need nourishment to keep up with you and Rags this week.”
****
After eating dinner, unpacking a few things, and setting up Rags’s pen, Savannah prepared to call Rob. Before she could do so, however, her phone rang. She looked at the screen and laughed. “Hi, Rob. You aren’t going to believe this, but I was just going to call you.”
“Yeah, yeah, so you say. You’re in LA and didn’t even bother to tell me?” he complained.