Моника Шонесси - The Tell-Tail Heart

When Precious snarled, I resisted the urge, barely, to whack her. “No other vet in Texas would come out weekly to attend this monster.”

Odell rapped on the arm of his chair and the gargoyle wheeled him close to the exam table. “New vet, young lady,” Odell growled, “new vet.”

“More money, old miser, more money,” I growled back.

“Hmph!” He blew his stale coffee breath my way.

I felt all around Precious's abdomen. She didn't exactly flinch, but she did squirm, so I cradled her close trying not to get skewered. Didn’t work. Vampire cat, I rubbed my bleeding hand.

“Look, she's fine,” I said. “What are you feeding her?”

Odell glared. “I’ve told you, she needs real food.”

I shook my head. “Nope. She's a cat. She needs cat food. She’s off her diet, isn’t she?”

The old man smiled. “She eats what a warrior cat needs.”

“Warrior cat?” Why did I bother to ask? “So, what does a warrior eat?”

Halyn spoke up. “Bacon. And squab.”

I planted my fists on my hips. “Squab? Bacon?” I should add an idiot surcharge to my fees. “Are you really that ignorant?”

“She’s depressed,” Odell said. “She needs to hunt, and she feels bad when she can’t.”

Hunt, my foot. Mercy killing, that’s what she needed. I rubbed my head. Now a headache to go with ringing ears and bleeding hand. “So that’s what’s been happening to the birds in your backyard. I’m sure you know the neighbors have complained.”

“She needs meat, I tell you.” Odell rapped on his chair again. The gargoyle pulled it back to the room’s center. “Makes her feel strong.”

“She can’t take it, Odell. She needs cat food that’s gentle on her digestion. She’s as far from a warrior cat as is felinely possible. She’s a retired Best in Show, that’s all. She does not need to eat birds.”

Already late for my next house call, I knew I should have skipped this stop. I must love pain, that’s why I’m a vet.

Kento put in his two cents’ worth. “Great-Uncle Odell bought some baby pigeons.”

I raised my eyebrows at him, a silent question

He nodded, smiling. “Uh-huh, he lets them go and shoots them for Precious.” He was rubbing his picture frame. Waiting for a genie to appear? “He says killing birds makes her feel young again.”

Ye gods and little fishes.

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