Джанет Кантрелл - Fat Cat Spreads Out

“I’ll bet he wishes it were football. He’d rather be here on a Saturday, believe me. Anyway, I’m here to see if you need me today, since I’m not working this weekend.”

Anna put her to work. She had her granddaughter stand right outside their entrance with a small paper plate of samples to tempt passersby and lure them into the booth.

It must have worked because she and Anna did a booming business, especially during lunchtime. Fairgoers seemed to want dessert as much as they wanted meals. That was fine with Anna and Chase. The visitors to the booth slowed to a trickle in the early afternoon, and Chase told Anna and Julie she wanted to try to find Daisy and ask her about the cat contest.

Anna had saved the brochure, and handed it to Chase.

“Didn’t you have your turquoise ring on this morning?” Anna asked.

Chase was dismayed to find that her ring was missing. “It must have slipped off. I’ve been planning to get it resized forever.”

“We’ll keep an eye out for it,” Julie said, already bending down to check beneath the table covering.

The brochure on the fair contests was thick, and Chase leafed through it. Daisy was apparently in charge of all of them. A hamster run was about to begin, from what the schedule said. The pet competitions were held in the large permanent building, beyond the midway with its many booths.

Chase walked through the open double doors into a large entryway that led to a wide central aisle. A big room on the right held homemade quilts and jars of pickles, fruits, and vegetables. A table near the door held dozens of baked goods. Chase nearly detoured into the space, drawn by the aroma of apple and pecan pies, but held her course for the next one, the animal contest room.

A long table, surrounded by cheering people, dominated the right side of the room. Chase wormed her way close enough to see a plastic track with five lanes that ran the length of the table, about fifteen feet long. Each lane held a transparent plastic ball, and each ball held a hamster. Most of the balls were whizzing down the track, but one held a sleeping white hamster, curled up in the bottom. A red-faced man screamed at the stationary ball. “Snowball! Wake up! We’re losing!”

A woman with a stopwatch presided over the finish line made of yellow tape. She was rather short, with frizzy bleached hair and a large, bulbous nose. Her head swiveled from hamster to hamster, ignoring poor Snowball, and her huge silver hoop earrings swung back and forth. After a moment, Chase recognized her as the person who had been at the Bar None booth early in the morning, chatting with Anna.

Another hamster, a black-and-white one, decided to quit, and its owner started screeching at her pet.

The frizzy-haired woman clicked her watch and held up her arms as the winner crossed the line. “We have a new champion. Wiggle Piggle wins!”

After the owners had retrieved their furry contestants, the winner toting along a large bag of hamster pellets, Chase approached the timekeeper.

“Are you Daisy?”

She nodded, sending her hoop earrings swinging and her hair dancing on her head.

“So you’re Jay Wright’s aunt?”

“And you must be Chase Oliver, Julie’s friend. I’m pleased to meet you.”

After the greeting, Chase asked her for more information about the Fancy Cat Contest. “The brochure doesn’t say much beyond the time and place.”

“It’s a fancy-dress contest,” she said with a grin.

“People dress cats?”

“It’s not easy. Sometimes the winner is the one who keeps the costume on. We’re so fortunate this year. The Picky Puss Cat Food Company is sponsoring the contest. You’ll have to take a good look at the cat collar they’re using for the winner.”

Chase wasn’t sure she wanted to enter Quincy in that competition. It sounded like it might be torture.

“You’ve seen bags of Picky Puss cat food, haven’t you?”

Chase had seen them in the pet food store and even the grocery store and had often noticed the lovely felines pictured on them.

“The winner here will be photographed with the collar and will be featured on their bags, all over the nation. They’re even offering a television commercial appearance. We’re so lucky,” she gushed. “The owner of the company grew up in this county and decided to do this for the fair.”

That would be fun, Chase admitted to herself. If Quincy would cooperate with the photographers. “Can I ask you another question? My business partner and I have a booth out on the midway and I’m bringing my cat with me every day, in his crate. Is there a place I could let him out a bit? Keep him from being so cramped all day?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. No, I don’t know any place you could turn a cat loose. We’ll have a high wire pen for our contest next Sunday, but people just usually bring their pets that day. You might want to check with the veterinarian, though.”

Chase thanked the woman and left the room as a Frisbee-catching contest for dogs was being set up. She stepped aside to let a woman lead a handsome Weimaraner into the room. A sign at the far end of the hall caught her eye: “Veterinarian.” It had an arrow pointing left. That’s where Mike was!

She nipped around the corner and into the room. No one was in the small anteroom, but she could hear Mike’s deep voice behind the closed door before her. She sat in a plastic chair and waited for him to finish with his current patient. There was a neat stack of printed cards on the corner of the desk. She tilted her head to read what was on the top one. It was the recipe for Kitty Patties. How nice! Mike had asked for the recipe when she first concocted the treats. He had said he might hand those out, but she thought he meant only in his own clinic, not here at the fair. Mike had told her he had plenty of cat patients that were overweight and could use her recipe.

The red-faced man who had yelled at Snowball came out in a few minutes, carrying Snowball himself—or herself—in a small cage. Snowball lay curled up at the bottom, much as he—or she—had done during the race. The familiar disinfectant smell of a vet’s office wafted from the room.

“Chase, what are you doing here?” Mike asked after the man left. “Is Quincy all right?”

“Yes, he’s fine. How’s Snowball?”

“You know Snowball?”

“I just watched him lose the hamster race.”

“Her. There’s nothing wrong with her. She’s pregnant and doesn’t feel like racing today.”

“I thought I’d stop in and say hi. I came over to ask Daisy about the Fancy Cat Contest, and if she knew where I could let Quince get some exercise.”

“He’s in his crate, isn’t he?”

“Yes, his new plastic one. If he hasn’t figured out how to get out of it yet.”

“Come on back here.” He motioned her into the next room. Besides an examining table, a small metal desk, and two shelves full of equipment, eight large cages were stacked against the wall to the left. Several even larger ones sat against the back wall. They were all empty. “Do you want to keep him here for part of the day? It would give him more room.”

“What are the cages for?”

“I’m not sure.” Mike smiled, crinkling his brown eyes. “They came with the space. Maybe if an animal gets hurt, I could put it here until it’s transported somewhere.”

“This might be good. He could move around a lot more.”

“If I should get a noisy dog, it might not work, but I don’t anticipate that. I can give him a big cage and some cat toys.”

Chase left to get her cat. As she opened the door from the reception room to the hallway, she nearly collided with a woman coming in. Chase apologized for nearly knocking her over—the woman was quite short—then blinked, trying to remember where she had recently met her. The other woman responded first.