Shirley Murphy - Cat Playing Cupid

"He's done very well," Firetti said. "I think he's out of danger, barring something unforeseen. Dulcie helped a great deal to reassure him when he came out of the anesthetic. She didn't have to give blood," he said, smiling, "though I used most of what I had.

"With the metal plate and pins in, the leg should heal just fine. The thing now is to avoid infection." Firetti lifted Kit into the open cage beside the patient, so she could visit. "I'd like to keep him another day, to watch him. Isn't the wedding today?"

"Yes, it is," Wilma said. "I can pick him up tomorrow morning, early. Shall I call first?"

Firetti nodded. "Please. When you come for him, I'll give you instructions and show you how to change the dressings."

Wilma was a stranger to Sage, and the young, bleached calico looked up at her warily; but Dulcie and Kit were obviously comfortable with her, and soon he relaxed.

"Was it very bad?" Kit asked him, glancing around uneasily at the wire cage. She did not like to be inside a cage, even with the door open, and she didn't like to see her friend there. Didn't like to see him all bundled up in those heavy bandages, either.

"The doctor is very kind," Sage said sleepily. "Very kind and good." And he laid his head down beside his empty bowl. "I don't hurt anymore…," he said, and he was asleep again, still groggy and worn out.

Wilma gave Dr. Firetti the custards she had brought, and she and the two cats left, Kit looking back at Sage until the office door closed and she could no longer see him; and in the car the tortoiseshell hunched down miserably, thinking only of her friend. "I just wish…," Kit said forlornly, "I wish…I wish Stone Eye could die all over again, slowly and painfully!"

"This is Clyde and Ryan's wedding day," Wilma said. "Are you going to feel all sour and grumpy and make them feel bad, and spoil their happy day?"

"I'm not," said Kit. "I mean to smile and purr. But right now I mean to feel bad just for a little while." And she turned over on the seat with her back to Wilma and Dulcie and said not another word as Wilma headed home to dress for the wedding.

F ROM THE CRACKof dawn, Clyde and Joe's house was a turmoil of prewedding excitement that made the tomcat laugh, but that he wouldn't have missed. Mike left early to help Max pick up the folding chairs. Max called later to see if Clyde needed any assistance, and Clyde snapped that he could still dress himself, thank you. Max told him, "Don't forget the rings," and Clyde and Joe argued fiercely about which pocket to put the rings in, which was arguing stupidly about nothing. And then at last they were in the sleek Cadillac Escalade that Clyde had borrowed for the honeymoon trip-borrowed because Ryan had said that, if they were going to be tooling around the wine country with all those great antiques stores, they'd better take her pickup. And Clyde said he wasn't going on their honeymoon in a pickup. "So," Ryan had said, "if you're such a snob, borrow an SUV," and Clyde had gotten a two-year-old, top-of-the-line loaner from the dealership where he had his automotive shop.

Dulcie had come over the rooftops to ride to the wedding with Joe and Clyde. She had, after her long night at the vet's, a great need to be close to Joe. Waiting for Clyde, the two cats leaped into the front seat of the pearl-colored Escalade hoping the groom wasn't going to be late. "I never want to see you in the hospital," Dulcie said, snuggling against Joe. She didn't say, Please take care. But Joe winced because that was what she was thinking. He hated being told to be careful, that kind of female meddling made him feel totally caged. But then he looked at her, saw how tired she was, and tenderly licked her ear.

The luxurious SUV had creamy leather upholstery, an OnStar GPS system, and, best of all according to Ryan's assessment, it had a good strong trailer hitch-if she found some irresistible architectural pieces that wouldn't fit inside, they could haul them home in a rental trailer. Clyde had scowled at that. This was a borrowed and like-new vehicle, as pristine as the day it came off the floor. Now, in the back of the vehicle, besides the couple's two suitcases, were half a dozen thick blankets, presumably to protect the interior, and two coils of rope.

"Some honeymoon," Joe said, "hunting for dusty old stained-glass windows and distressed paneling with spiders in the cracks."

"They're happy," Dulcie said. "Who knows, maybe they'll come home with some ancient car Clyde can't resist."

"Just what he needs, another deteriorating Packard or Maxwell. Some pitiful wreck just crying out for loving attention."

Dulcie laughed. "They're a couple of nutcases. They're not planning a honeymoon, they're off on a treasure hunt." But, watching the groom lock the front door and head for the car, looking very nice in his new tan suit, white shirt, and the first tie he'd worn in months, the cats smiled with tolerance for their crazy human friends.

W HAT A JOYOUSwedding it had been, with all the friends gathered on the Harpers' bright patio, the sun glinting off the far sea, the smell of spring in the air, and the lilting Irish music reflecting the bride and groom's shy excitement. Joe and Dulcie and Kit had crowded among their human friends at the edge of the makeshift aisle, watching Ryan slowly approach the minister, looking radiant in her soft red suit; the joyous ceremony stirred tears among the guests, and then stirred happy laughter. But now the wedding toasts and good-natured ribbing were over, the bride and groom had long ago departed to drive up the coast in their borrowed chariot, and the bright day was slipping toward evening.

Most of the guests had left, many of Harper's officers reporting to the station for second watch. Dulcie had left with Wilma, and Kit with her elderly couple. By eight o'clock, only Ryan's dad and her two uncles remained with Charlie and Max-and of course Joe Grey and Rock, dozing before the fire, waiting for Mike to take them home.

Joe, full of buffet treats, watched Dallas and Scotty shrug on their jackets, both men quiet and reflective, heavy with fatherly nostalgia. As if each wished, for a moment, that they could go back in time, that Ryan was small again, still their feisty little girl learning all over again to ride, to train the hunting dogs, to cook and keep house and to use properly Scotty's carpenter's tools. As the two men swung out the door, Scotty's red beard catching the light, behind them Mike Flannery, muttering that he'd have to buy a car soon, pulled on his coat and fished out the keys to Clyde's antique yellow roadster, in which Ryan had driven to her wedding, Rock sitting tall and dignified beside her.

Charlie picked up Joe, holding him against her shoulder, and she and Max walked out to the car with Mike, where she set Joe on the front seat. As the silver Weimaraner leaped obediently into the backseat, Mike looked at Joe and then at Charlie. "Where's the cat carrier?"

"Doesn't have one. He'll be all right," Charlie told him.

"A cat can't ride loose like that. This is an open car. I don't-"

"He'll ride just fine," Charlie said, stroking Joe. "He likes cars. He'll mind you just as well as Rock will. Watch," she said, turning a sly green-eyed look on Joe.

"Get in the backseat, Joe," she said, tapping the backseat beside Rock. "Backseat! Now!"

Joe gave her a Just-you-wait, you'll-get-yours look, but hopped obediently into the back.

"Lie down, Joe."

Joe lay down beside Rock's front paws, glaring at Charlie.

"Stay, Joe. Stay until you get home."

Mike stared at Joe and stared at her. He shook his head and had nothing to say. Both cat and dog turned the same expectant expression on him, as if willing their human chauffeur to get a move on, making the tall, sandy-haired Scots Irishman swallow a laugh. "That," Mike said, "is a pretty unusual cat."