by Nic Saint
Tex squeezed some more unintelligible noises from his throat.
“He might even name a school after me,” Gran continued. “The Goldsmiths are big on education. Major contributors to the University of Colorado and other local institutions of higher education. I’ll fit right in. I’m big on education myself.”
“You dropped out of school when you were sixteen!” Alec cried.
“And I’ve regretted it since,” she insisted. She smiled. “Maybe I’ll go back to school. Get a degree in astrophysics or something. I could work for NASA. The sky is the limit now.”
“Gran, this is crazy,” said Odelia. “The test results will show that you’re not related and the Goldsmiths will ship you right back home!”
“No, they won’t,” said the old lady stubbornly. “First of all I did have Burt’s child—even if my memory is a little fuzzy on the details. And secondly I intend to ingratiate myself to the Goldsmiths in such a way that they’ll consider me their honorary grandmother.” She nodded decidedly. “One way or another, I’m a Goldsmith now, and I fully intend to live up to the name. I might even run for governor of Colorado. Isn’t that what rich people do? But first I need to get my NASA degree. Tom Hanks is waiting for me up there in Apollo 13.”
“Please, God, take me now,” muttered Dad, and threw down the dish brush.
Chapter 17
I stared at Brutus who was staring at the box of pills Odelia had bought. The box of pills were Vena’s idea. After examining the brutish black cat—though a lot less brutish since he’d confided his big secret in me—she’d determined everything was A-Okay with his plumbing. Which told her the issue was between his ears. No idea what she meant by that. Vena also said he needed a shrink, but since cat shrinks are hard to find she decided to give him some pills to alleviate his predicament. It should put the pep right back in his pee-pee.
Before leaving the house, Odelia laid out a couple of pills, and told Brutus to take one with a little water. And now Brutus was staring at the pills and I was staring at him. And since Dooley was staring at me staring at Brutus staring at the pills, things were a little awkward.
Harriet, of course, was staring at herself. In the mirror in the bathroom. She’d discovered that if she jumped on top of the wash basin, she could study herself to her heart’s content, which was what she was doing right now.
“I don’t like it, Max,” Dooley said finally.
“What don’t you like, Dooley?” I said.
“The collar. Makes you look weird.”
Just what I needed. A motivational speech.
“That’s because collars look weird on all cats, Dooley,” I pointed out. “Because cats weren’t designed to wear collars.”
“I know that. But on you it looks extra weird. Probably because it’s too tight. I can see all kinds of flab sticking out. Like someone tied a rubber band around a whale.”
He was right. Vena had used the final hole punched into the collar and still it was too tight around my neck. I’d told Odelia it was because the collar was too small. Vena had said it was because I was too fat, and she’d threatened to put me on another one of her diets. In her infinite wisdom Odelia had decided that the diet would have to wait until after the flea ordeal had been dealt with. I hoped by then she would have forgotten about the diet thing.
“Just take it already,” I told Brutus, tiring of this waiting game.
He chewed his lower lip. “I don’t know, Max. What if my pee-pee falls off?”
“Why would your pee-pee fall off?”
“I read about these pills. There’s always side effects. And one of the side effects is that your pee-pee swells up and dies. What am I going to tell Harriet if my pee-pee dies?”
“Your pee-pee isn’t going to die from a teeny tiny pill. Just think how happy Harriet will be if your machinery works like it should. Focus on the light, Brutus, not the darkness.”
Dooley transferred his attention from my tight collar to Brutus. “What’s his deal?” he asked. Then he remembered. “Oh, the pee-pee thing. Right.”
Brutus’s eyes went wide. “You told him?!”
“Of course I told him. He’s my best friend.”
“I told you in confidence!”
“And I told Dooley in confidence.”
He groaned. “Tell me you didn’t tell Harriet.”
“I didn’t tell Harriet,” said Dooley. “So why don’t you take the pill, Brutus?”
His bedside manners were a little lacking in tact and delicacy, I felt, and some of the old rancor had slipped back into his tone. It was obvious my helping Brutus still rankled.
“Are you deaf? I just told Max about the side effects.”
“So what if your thingy falls off? Who cares?”
“I care! And Harriet will care if I can’t…” He chewed his lip again.
“She’ll find another boyfriend,” said Dooley carelessly. “Plenty of cats in the sea.”
Brutus gave him a look that could kill, and I had the distinct impression another cat fight was brewing. And since Chase wasn’t here to break up the fight, I told Dooley, “Go look for Odelia’s pill, Dooley. I’m sure it’s in the bathroom upstairs somewhere.”
His eyes lit up, like I knew they would. “She has the pill?”
“She has the pill. I’m one hundred percent sure.” More like fifty percent, but giving false hope is one of the secrets of making friends and influencing cats.
And off he was, at a happy trot. If he could find proof that Odelia was on the pill, and not about to pop out a litter of babies, he would finally be happy. And Brutus and I would have some peace and quiet to think this other pill thing through.
“Just take it,” I told Brutus. “See what happens.”
“Why don’t you take it? Then if your pee-pee stays firmly attached I’ll know it’s safe.”
I laughed. “I don’t have issues, Brutus. You do.”
“Don’t remind me,” he grunted, and unsheathed a sharp claw.
I gulped. Brutus might be domesticated, to some extent, but there was still something of the wild animal in him. “Okay, fine,” I said. “I’ll take one if you’ll take one. How is that?”
He sheathed the claw. “You would do that for me?”
“Of course.”
“Oh, Max—you’re a real pal,” he said, visibly touched.
As long as he stopped whining about his pee-pee, I was prepared to take any pill.
So I jumped on top of the chair, then on top of the table, and gobbled up one of the pills Odelia had laid out. I didn’t even need to take it with a little water. Brutus, who’d made the jump to the table in one go—admittedly he is a little slimmer than me—swallowed his pill. And then we stared at one another. Slowly, but inexorably, our gazes lowered. Then, realizing what we were doing, we both looked away again.
“I don’t feel nothing,” said Brutus after a moment.
“I don’t feel nothing either,” I confessed.
“Let’s take another pill,” said Brutus.
“I’m not taking another pill,” I said.
“Chicken.”
“Not!”
“Then take it.”
“You take it.”
“Oh, I will,” he said, and gobbled up another pill, crunching it between his teeth.
I couldn’t say no. My whole cathood depended on it. So I followed suit.
More minutes passed. Nothing happened.
“Maybe we should take another one,” said Brutus.
I decided this time to beat him to it, and we both dove for the pills.
Just as I was gobbling down pill number five, feeling mighty manly, Dooley strode in, looking a little pale around the nostrils.
“You guys,” he said, retching slightly. “I don’t feel so good.”
“What happened?” I asked.
“I found Odelia’s pills.”
“Hey, that’s good, right?”
“And then I ate one.”
“You did what?”
<
br /> He retched some more. “They looked like white kibble!”
“Oh, Dooley,” I said, and then I retched, too.
Truth be told, I wasn’t feeling so hot myself.
And when I glanced over at Brutus, he looked like he was about to pass out.
Five minutes later, when Odelia walked in, back from giving Grandma the tongue-lashing the old lady deserved, she found three cats puking their guts out, with a fourth, Harriet, wearily shaking her head at so much tomfoolery. Then Harriet dug her teeth into her collar for some reason and moments later joined the rest of us in the puking department.
Chapter 18
As Odelia walked out of the house, laden with cats, she bumped into Chase, who immediately offered to take over some of the furry creatures. She unloaded Brutus and Harriet in his arms and took Max and Dooley into the car, followed by the new cat lover.
“What’s wrong with them?” he asked as he placed Brutus and Harriet on the backseat.
She took a deep breath. “As far as I can tell,” she said, slipping behind the wheel as Chase dropped down in the passenger seat, “Brutus ate too many vitamin tablets, so did Max, Dooley ate one of my pills, and Harriet tried to chew through her collar.”
“It doesn’t look good on me,” the white cat said, panting heavily. “Cramps my style.”
Chase directed a worried look at the foursome in the backseat. “You think they’ll live?”
“We’re gonna die!” Dooley cried. “I knew it! We’re dead meat!”
“They’ll live,” Odelia said, stomping on the accelerator. The car jumped away from the curb and then they were on their way to Vena—for the second time that day.
“Thank God,” said Chase. “I love the little suckers to death. Especially Max. He’s such a special cat, don’t you think? I don’t think I’ve ever felt like that about any animal. Truth.”
She frowned. He was laying it on a little thick now. “Max is great,” she said curtly. When he wasn’t getting into a pill-swallowing competition with Brutus.
“Oh, he’s fantastic,” said Chase, slapping his thigh. “I love the little guy to death. Never thought I could ever love a cat again, I mean—after what happened to Smokey.”
“I thought your cat’s name was Blackie?”
“That’s what I meant. Blackie. Dear, sweet Blackie.”
She cut a quick glance sideways. Damn, the man looked good in profile. “Did you and Uncle Alec happen to talk about Max, by any chance?”
“Nope,” he said, feigning innocence. “Not a word. Me and Alec? We talk about the Yankees and the Mets, about work, and that’s it. Not a word about cats. Why would we?”
She had the distinct impression that this sudden fondness of cats didn’t come out of nowhere. Alec had probably told Chase that the surest way to his niece’s heart was through her cats. Why else would he be all over Max all of a sudden? “You know? Now that you and Max have developed such a strong and powerful bond, maybe you can do me a favor?”
“Sure. Anything. Anything for sweet, sweet Maxie.”
“Ugh,” Max groaned from the backseat, then retched some more.
“With Grandma giving us all such a hard time, I feel I should spend some time at my parents’ house. Try to talk some sense into the old lady. Can I rely on you to catsit for me?”
He seemed taken aback. “Catsit?”
“Yeah, just, you know, make sure they’re fed and cleaned—Vena gave me a flea comb to apply with a little bit of soapy water—and don’t forget to clean out their litter box.”
He made a face. “Litter box?”
“You know, remove the old litter, scrape out the clumps of pee stuck to the bottom, wash it out with soapy water—I like to add a little bleach, too. For some reason Max loves the scent of bleach, don’t ask me why. Take a fresh sponge and a fresh pair of gloves—I hope they’re not too small for you. It’s one size fits all, though, so you should be good. Towel the box dry—use paper towels, not kitchen towels—and fill it up with about three to five inches of litter and you’re done.” She shrugged. “I don’t know why I’m telling you, though, seeing as you’re an even bigger cat person than I am. You’ve probably done this a million times.”
For a moment, Chase didn’t speak, then he said, a catch in his voice, “I may not be a bigger cat person than you, though, babe.”
“Oh?”
“The thing is—Alec told me to be extra-nice to your cats.”
“Now why would he say a thing like that?”
He turned to her. “The thing is, I like you, Odelia. I like you a lot. In fact it’s not too much to say I like you a whole damn lot—probably more than I’ve liked any woman.”
Her face flushed, as she realized four cats were holding their breaths in the backseat.
“I like spending time with you. I like coming home to you. I like sleeping with you. Heck, I’ve never felt happier than these past few months we’ve spent together.” He took a deep breath. “I like your cats, but I like you a lot more. I know you’re a package deal, babe. One woman and a litter of crazy cats. And that’s fine. In fact it’s more than fine. What I’m trying to say is…” He lowered his voice. “How do you feel about moving in together?”
She smiled and darted a quick look in the rearview mirror at her menagerie. They were still holding their breaths, or so it seemed. “Breathe, you guys,” she said. “Deep breaths.” She applied the same advice to herself, then looked over at Chase and spoke a single word. “Yes.”
Chase pumped the air with his fist. “One catsitter, free of charge, at your service.”
She laughed. “You don’t have to catsit. I was just joshing you.”
“Oh, thank God,” he said, throwing his head back.
“I thought you were so busted up when Blackie died? Or was it Smokey?”
“I was busted up when Blackie and Smokey died. Both of them. I had Blackie when I was six. And my folks got me Smokey when I was twelve. Those two were with me for many wonderful years. Only Smokey was a Lab and Blackie was a Golden Retriever. Best dogs a man has ever known. I still miss ‘em every day.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry, Chase. Maybe we should get a dog?”
There was a collective intake of breath behind Odelia.
“Four cats and a dog? Don’t you think that’s a bit much?”
She patted his leg. “We’ll figure it out.”
Can a cat person peacefully coexist with a dog person? She had no idea, but she was willing to try.
“A dog,” Harriet said, a whining note in her voice. “She’s getting a dog. I hate dogs.”
“He’s moving in,” said Dooley, sounding shell-shocked. “He’ll eat all her pills and then there will be babies!”
“Oh, relax, you guys,” said Max. “Chase is okay. He saved us from that wild cat.”
“That’s true,” said Dooley musingly. “There may be hope for us yet.”
“My pee-pee,” said Brutus suddenly, interrupting the others. “It hurts.”
“Jeezus, Brutus,” said Max. “What is that thing?”
“Is that…” Harriet began, then cried, “Brutus, it’s huge!”
“And painful!” he cried. “Owowowow!”
“Didn’t you take the same pills, Max?” asked Dooley.
“I did.”
“Yours is tiny,” Harriet said with distaste. “Miniscule. Almost non-existent.”
Max sighed, the sigh of a long-suffering cat. “Why me?” he said.
“Are they all right?” asked Chase, turning in his seat to look back.
“They’re fine,” she assured him. At least she hoped they were.
Chapter 19
That night, we were all sufficiently recovered to attend cat choir, which is just about the biggest social event for cats in Hampton Cove. Cat choir is all about letting our inner cat out and sing to its heart’s content. The only drawback is that the neighbors of Hampton Cove Park are cultural barbarians who don’t appreciate the finer points of cat-produced art.
We don’t care, though, and carry on regardless of the catcalls and shoes thrown.
That night the meeting was a sad affair, though. All members were wearing their flea collars—perhaps the rest of the world had abandoned the terrible practice of outfitting cats with collars when the first flea reared its ugly head, but here in Hampton Cove the collar still reigned supreme, or so it seemed. There’s nothing to put a good cat down like the collar does, and we were all suffering the indignation. Even Shanille, our conductor, was downcast.
Brutus, recovered from his vitamin poisoning, for that was what he had apparently suffered, Dooley, the consumption of Odelia’s pill having had as its worst effect a slight case of diarrhea, and Harriet, vowing never to ingest flea-repellent ever again, were all present and accounted for. On me, those vitamin pills Vena had prescribed for Brutus merely had the effect of boosting my energy levels to such an extent that I was feeling fit as a fiddle.
So when suddenly Princess, the Most Compelling Cat in the World, showed up, along with a troupe of other cats I’d never seen, I felt oddly complacent. In fact I would have told the black cat to ‘bring it on!’ had it not been for my innate sense of self-preservation. Also, that scratch across the left butt cheek still hurt, and I wasn’t looking to turn the other cheek.
“Who are those cats?” asked Harriet as she stared in abject fascination.
And I had to admit that the small troupe of cats looked absolutely amazing.
For one thing, none of them were wearing flea collars, which made them stand out. And for another, they entered the scene with a marked swagger, as if they owned the place. You cannot own a park, of course, but it was obvious nobody had told them.
“Isn’t that…” Dooley said, his voice dying away. “Max, it’s Princess!”
Princess raised her paw. “We come in peace!” she declared, loud enough for the entire gathering to hear. “And we come bearing gifts!” she added, gesturing to her friends.