Leann Sweeney - The Cat, The Professor and the Poison

“She has become Dame Wiggins’s protector and groomer, and a second mother to those kittens. That’s how I found the microchip. Chablis thinks she can lick the thing out of Dame Wiggins.”

Shawn laughed, and after he’d given both cats an equal share of attention, he stood and said, “Tell me there’s enough coffee for me, ’cause it smells good enough for me to wade across a cold river to get some.”

I filled a large mug and handed it to him.

“This might just get me through the day,” he said.

I picked up a stack of cat quilts-I always have quilts squirreled away for emergencies. “These are for your new rescues. They’ll need some comfort. I’ll set them by the door so you don’t forget them.”

Shawn smiled. “Every cat goes home with a quilt since I met you. Thank you, lady.” He held up his scanner. “Now lead me to Dame Wiggins.”

I set the quilts by the small table at the back door, and we went downstairs with Merlot and Syrah leading the way. But cats learn quickly, and the boys stopped in the middle of the game room and sat down.

“What’s with them?” Shawn said as we went to the bedroom.

“That’s as far as they’re allowed to go, according to their boss, Chablis,” I said.

He smiled. “Your cats have the craziest personalities, Jillian,” he said as he went into the bedroom. He had brought his coffee and took a hefty swig.

“They are the best cats on the planet,” I said.

Chablis was curled up with the kittens, and Dame Wiggins was napping. Wiggins lifted her head and meowed when we came close. But Chablis wasn’t sure she liked this invasion and was on her feet and between Shawn and Dame Wiggins in an instant.

We both knelt, and all it took was a few strokes from Shawn and Chablis started purring. She even plopped down and turned over on her back. Yup, all the cats loved Shawn.

Before scanning Dame Wiggins, he scratched her under her chin, and she, too, began to purr. I took this opportunity to gently pet the kittens Chablis wanted all to herself.

Shawn searched with his fingers and found the small lump. “Yup. She’s got one all right. This might be good news for someone.” He held the scanner over the area, pressed a button and then looked at the display.

And appeared totally confused.

“Something’s wrong,” he said.

“With your scanner?” I asked.

“Maybe. I should get a number, one we can match in a database. But there’s no number. Just a bunch of computer gibberish.” He felt around again. “This is bigger than any chip I’ve ever implanted, too.”

“All the chips are the same?” I said.

“Not exactly the same, but never this big,” he said.

“So what do we do now?” I said.

“Like I mentioned, Doc Howard is due in this afternoon to help me immunize and test the new cats that have arrived. Mind if we come back? He’s more up on this microchip system than I am,” he said. “I just know how to put them in and do the paperwork.”

“That would be great. I had another question, though,” I said.

“About Dame Wiggins? She looks great, and those kittens seem healthy just by looking at them, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he said.

“It’s not that. It’s about animal activist groups,” I said.

“Oh.” He held up his mug. “Then that information can only be bought with more coffee.”

I laughed, and we went upstairs.

Once Shawn and I were settled at the kitchen table, both of us with fresh coffee, I said, “Tell me what you know about these groups.”

“Um, that might take all day, and I’ve got to get back to the sanctuary.” He held the mug between both his hands, looking distracted now.

“There are some who believe animals shouldn’t be domesticated at all-shouldn’t be kept by people, right?” I said.

“Very true. Those are the worst kind. You know why?” His tone was harsh now.

“Why?” I said.

“Because they just want to dump them. They don’t really care about the animals. It’s all political. They think they know how all of us should live our lives. Man, do not get me started on those types.”

“Are there any of those types around here?” I said.

“Probably. But you know, when I saw that meat in the professor’s house, I was thinking this was about the raw-food movement. That’s what he was feeding them, right? Raw food?”

I shook my head, confused. “What?”

“You have to know about the raw-food people, Jillian. You’re smart about everything that has to do with cats,” he said.

“Well, I do know a little about that. I know some folks think animals should eat unprocessed and raw food, like they would in the wild. But that’s not anything radical. I mean, some advocates of raw food go a little overboard, but it’s become a commercially viable-” I put my hand to my mouth, felt my eyes widen. “That’s what VanKleet was doing. That’s why he thought he was going to hit the jackpot. Because he thought he was making a commercially viable raw pet food.”

It was Shawn’s turn to look confused. “What are you talking about?”

“I just figured something out, thanks to you. Anyway, back to these activists. Do they have names for their groups?” I said.

“Only the big umbrella organizations. But I can tell you one unique way they operate. Actually, Allison figured this out. She’s the computer geek.” He sipped his coffee.

“So tell me,” I said.

“They use the Internet to communicate. Ever heard of Twitter?”

“Yes, but I don’t know much about it,” I said.

“Well, Twitter isn’t the only game in town. There’s another thing like it-can’t remember the name right now. Anyway, Allison says they send each other these little coded messages about where animals are being held and if they don’t think it’s a good situation. Like in a lab, or even like what was going on at the professor’s place.”

“Coded messages? Like Morse code?” I said.

“Almost, really. I guess on these sites you can only use so many words. Allison’s the expert on this, but she says she’s followed some of these messages, and they give addresses. Send out the alarm. Like, ‘Anyone in the area of such and such address. Ten chimps need help.’ Stuff like that. Of course, sometimes the messages are good. There are people who inform about cats or dogs that are about to be euthanized and plead for people to go adopt.”

“Oh, that is a good thing,” I said. “I guess these people are networked and ready to act when called on. But you’re saying the problem can be what they decide to act upon?”

“Exactly.” Shawn drained his mug. “Wish I could tell you more, but I got to get back. Thanks for the jump start with the coffee. Doc and I will be here later today about that chip. And I’ll ask Allison if she knows anything more about this activist stuff on the Internet.”

I thanked him and gave him a big hug before he left.

Kara, I thought, as I locked the back door. Kara could show Candace and me how this network thing works.

I made a fresh pot of coffee, hoping a second round of that wonderful aroma would rouse the sleeping beauties. It worked, at least for one of them.

Candace stumbled into the kitchen, rubbing sleep out of her eyes. “You get up way too early, Jillian. I’m supposed to be watching you, so you need to stay in bed until I get up.” She grabbed a mug from the cabinet and poured herself some coffee.

I grinned. “Shawn came to scan the chip. Someone had to be awake.”

“Oh yeah. You’re gonna miss Dame Wiggins when he takes her to her owner, huh?” she said.

“His scanner couldn’t read the number,” I said.

“Broken equipment?” It was Kara. Chablis was supposed to be the stealthiest one around here, but Kara had her beat.