Софи Келли - Faux Paw

Maggie walked me down to the back door after lunch. She pulled a tiny brown paper bag from the Grainery out of her pocket.

“Ah, Mags, you didn’t buy Owen another funky chicken, did you?” I asked, frowning at her.

“He likes them,” she said. “And you’ve been so busy at the library for the last month he deserves a little treat. Hercules, too. There are some of those little crackers he likes in there.” She studied my face. “You’re not going to give me the ‘They’re cats, not people’ speech?” she asked.

I shook my head. “Uh-uh. But I am going to call you the next time your furry little friend spreads chicken parts all over my kitchen.” I took the bag from her.

She hugged me. “I’ll see you at class tonight,” she said, and then she headed back up the stairs to her studio and I walked back to the library to get my truck, stopping in at Eric’s long enough to return the spoons—and get a cinnamon roll.

Hercules was sitting on the bottom step by the back door when I got home. I reached down and picked him up and he nuzzled my face.

“Have you and Everett been solving all the town’s problems?” I asked as I juggled the cat, my purse and my briefcase and tried to fish my keys from my pocket.

The cat wrinkled his nose. I was pretty sure that meant no.

I managed to get the key in the lock and the door open without dropping anything. “So if you haven’t been eating bacon, why are you in such a good mood?”

It seemed bizarre to say it—especially since generally it was Owen who was scheming—but I knew Hercules had done something. I just didn’t know what. The moment I opened the kitchen door I had my answer.

I could hear “Bandstand Boogie”—Barry Manilow—coming from the living room. Had some Barry Manilow–loving burglar broken in? Or was it a furry Barry Manilow fan?

Hercules was wiggling in my arms. I set him down and dropped the rest of my things on the floor beside him. Then I went into the living room. My iPod was in the dock. The song changed to “Ready to Take a Chance Again.”

Hercules had followed me and his head was bobbing like he was grooving to the music, which he was, because the little black-and-white cat loved Barry Manilow just about as much as I did. His brother, on the other hand, didn’t get the attraction of the man who makes the whole world sing. In fact, Owen loathed every Barry Manilow song ever recorded.

“Where’s your brother?” I asked.

Herc gave me a blank look.

“I know you did this,” I said, pointing a finger at him.

I had no idea how Hercules had managed to turn on the music. It certainly seemed to be a skill beyond the average cat’s capabilities, but then again neither cat was exactly average.

I turned the music off and went looking for Owen. I finally found him hiding in the back of my closet, his head stuffed in one of the fuzzy Bigfoot slippers my brother, Ethan, had given me at Christmas.

I crouched down on the floor next to him, pushing my shoes aside. “It’s okay,” I said. “I turned it off.”

He lifted his head, the big fluffy bootie still stuck in place. I pulled it off and he shook himself. His gray fur was sticking up on one side and matted down on the other. He put his two front paws on my knee and meowed loudly.

“I know,” I said, reaching over to smooth his fur.

He kept up a steady stream of meows and murps. I had no idea how long Barry Manilow had been playing, but for Owen any amount of time was too long.

I picked him up and got to my feet, dodging clothes and hangers as I backed out of the closet. “I’m sorry,” I said, continuing to stroke his fur. “What Hercules did was wrong.”

“Merow!” Owen said with as much indignation as he could muster.

“But you haven’t exactly been a paragon of cat virtue the last week or so.”

He grumbled under his breath.

I had no idea what was going on between the two of them. It felt a bit like being caught in a squabble between a couple of middle schoolers. Maybe Roma would have some insight.

I kissed the top of his furry head and set him down on the floor. “Stay away from your brother,” I said firmly.

His gaze slid off my face and he suddenly became engrossed in a spot on the bedroom floor.

I changed for tai chi, retrieved the iPod from the dock in the living room and then went into the kitchen to get some supper before class. Hercules was sitting under the coat hooks. Owen had followed me downstairs, and he stopped by the table and glared at his brother, his tail twitching.

I stepped into the space between them. “I don’t know what’s going on between the two of you, but I want you both to cut it out,” I said, feeling a little foolish that I was having this conversation with two cats. I needed a little incentive, I decided, to force détente, even temporarily. I went over to the counter and grabbed the container of sardine cat crackers I’d made on the weekend.

“See this?” I said.

That got their attention. “If you two don’t cut it out, I’m taking all the crackers to Marcus’s house and leaving them for Micah.”

Owen immediately started grumbling. Hercules came over to me and wound around my ankles. I leaned down and gave the top of his head a scratch. “Sucking up is not going to work,” I said. I set the container of crackers on the table and reached over to give Owen a little scratch on the side of his face. “Neither is complaining.”

I picked up the container of crackers and put it in my canvas tote on top of my towel. “Behave yourselves or I’ll be swinging by Marcus’s house on the way home,” I warned.

Maybe they understood the words. Maybe they didn’t, but they definitely understood the tone and the actions. This clearly was a much better warning than my previous threat to feed their treats to Harry Senior’s German shepherd, Boris.

When I left for class, Owen had disappeared down into the basement and Hercules was upstairs in my bedroom. When I pulled on my jacket I found the Grainery bag Maggie had given me. It didn’t seem like a good time to give her gifts to Owen and Hercules. I didn’t want to reward bad behavior.

I was the first person to arrive at tai chi. I found Maggie sipping a cup of mint tea and looking out the window.

“You’re early,” she said. She held up her cup. “Would you like a cup of tea?”

“Yes,” I said.

She frowned at me. “Seriously?”

I linked my hands behind my neck and tipped my head up to the ceiling. “I’d like something hot and I’ve had way too much caffeine today.”

Maggie patted my arm and headed toward the table where she always set up the tea supplies before class. “Margo?” she asked.

I shook out my arms and followed her. “And Gavin,” I said. “She called me four times while I was eating supper—she doesn’t text, which I probably should be grateful for. But Gavin sent me two texts.”

“Do you want to put your phone in my office during class?” she asked.

“Could I?” I asked. I reached into my pocket. The phone wasn’t there. I remembered setting it on the table while I went to get my hoodie from the living room closet. I didn’t remember picking it up because I hadn’t. I closed my eyes for a second and sighed. “It’s sitting on the kitchen table.”

“Good,” she said. “There isn’t anything that Margo or Gavin is going to need that can’t wait. You can take an hour for yourself.”

“I’ll probably have a dozen messages by the time I get back.”

“The world can turn without you for a little while.”

Maggie made the tea and added a little honey to the cup before she gave it to me.

I took a tentative sip. It was hot and just a little sweet and the aroma of mint swirled around me.