Миранда Джеймс - Arsenic And Old Books

“Well, hello, kitty,” I said. “You look wet and unhappy. How about you let me come closer? Would that be okay?” I kept up the soft patter as I moved clumsily forward in a crouch.

The cat didn’t run off. Instead he—or she—watched me intently. I got as close as three feet from him, and still he hadn’t moved. I stopped and held out my hand.

“Why don’t you come over and say hello? I’m not going to hurt you, I promise. I bet you’re really wet and cold by now, and I’ve got an old towel in the backseat of my car. I can wrap you up in that and you’ll be all nice and warm. How does that sound?”

The cat regarded me for a moment, and I had the strangest feeling he understood every word. He meowed, rather loudly, and took a couple of steps toward me. I held still, but kept murmuring to him, and finally he came close enough for me to touch his head gently.

His bedraggled coat dripped water, and he looked to be a year or so old. He must weigh a good ten pounds, I reckoned. I couldn’t see a collar, and I wondered whether he had gotten loose from a nearby house or if someone had dumped him here. The latter thought made me angry, because I despised people who abandoned their pets. If they couldn’t care for them for some reason, they should at least have the decency to turn them in to a shelter. I knew Athena had a no-kill one.

I shouldn’t be so pessimistic, I realized. He was probably only lost. If that were the case, perhaps an ad in the local paper would help locate his family.

The cat rubbed his head against my hand and then looked up at me with sad eyes. He chirped at me—at least, that was what it sounded like. I’d never heard a cat make such a sound before. When my children were young, we’d had a pair of cats, littermates. Both of them were chatty, but I’d never heard either of them chirp.

What should I do next? I wondered. Should I try to pick him up and put him in the car? Or open the car door and see if he would jump in? I might scare him off if I tried to pick him up. I certainly didn’t want to get clawed. My coat would protect my arms, but I didn’t have gloves with me.

While I debated what to do, the cat solved the dilemma for me. He turned toward the car and put a large paw on the rear door. Then he stretched up on his hind legs and touched the handle.

I was so surprised I almost lost my balance and fell back on my rear on the wet pavement. This was one smart cat, I realized. I steadied myself and got to my feet, wincing at the stiffness in my knees.

“Okay, kitty, I’ll open the door and you hop in, okay?” I unlocked the doors, and the cat moved back to allow me to open the rear door. I closed my umbrella and stuck it on the floorboard. The cat jumped inside, and I leaned in to grab the towel I kept there and wrap him in it. I rubbed him with the towel, and he rewarded me with a deep, rumbling purr.

“You sound like a diesel engine.” I laughed. He kept up the purring while I continued to dry him with the towel. By this time the back of my raincoat was dripping, and I decided I had better get in the car myself. I left the towel around him, shut the door, then opened the front door and climbed in.

I twisted in my seat to look at the cat. He chirped at me again, all the while keeping his eyes focused on my face.

“What should we do now?” I said. “You don’t have a collar, so I have no idea where or to whom you belong.” I thought for a moment. “Maybe you have one of those microchips. I’ll need to take you to the vet to find out.”

The cat meowed, then started licking his right front paw. Had he just agreed with me? I wondered.

I pulled out my cell phone and tapped the icon for the browser. I did a search for veterinarians in Athena, and the first one who came up was a Dr. Devon Romano. Her clinic wasn’t far from the library, so I decided to head there.

A few minutes later my passenger and I pulled up in front of the clinic. There were three other cars in the parking area. I hoped I wouldn’t have to wait long. I still felt damp and chilled, and I was ready to get home for a hot bath.

Deciding that trying to handle the umbrella and the cat at the same time would be a recipe for disaster, I resigned myself to a wet head. I climbed out of the car and opened the back door. The cat eyed me with what seemed to be a suspicious glare as I stuck my head and shoulders inside the car.

“Everything’s going to be okay,” I said in a soothing tone. “We’re going to go inside and talk to the nice people here, and they’re going to help us find out who you belong to, and then you’ll get to go back home and be warm and dry.”

As I talked, I reached toward him, and for a moment I thought he was going to slap at me with one of his large front paws. He held still, however, and let me check to make sure the towel was secured around him. He shivered suddenly, but then seemed content to let me pick him up and tuck him close to my chest.

I looked down at his face, and he stared up at me. His eyes seemed to be saying, “I trust you, human. Don’t let me down.” I got a funny feeling in the pit of my stomach. Then I decided I was simply imagining things. I shut the door and locked the car. Then we dashed for the clinic.

The only person in the waiting room was a redheaded woman who had a rabbit in her lap. She smiled at me, and I smiled back. I stepped up to the receptionist’s window.

“Good afternoon, sir.” The young woman at the desk gave me a brief smile. “How can I help you?”

“I found this cat in the parking lot at the library. He doesn’t have a collar, and I wondered whether y’all could check to see if he’s been microchipped.”

“Why don’t you have a seat, and I’ll let Dr. Romano know you’re here. Your name, sir?”

“Charles Harris,” I said.

“Thank you, Mr. Harris,” she replied.

I nodded and turned away. The cat had been calm all this time, and I glanced down at him. He appeared to be asleep. He certainly was a trusting creature.

I took a seat opposite the lady with the rabbit. We exchanged smiles again. Before I could speak to her, however, a young man in scrubs opened a nearby door and took a step into the room. “Mrs. Kendall, the doctor is ready for you.”

The redhead rose from her chair, the bunny in her arms. “Good luck with your cat,” she said.

I started to reply that he wasn’t my cat, but she had already turned away and walked toward the door. The young man ushered her inside, and the door closed behind them.

Once again I looked down at the cat cradled in my arms, still snug in the damp towel. My arms were tiring from the weight. I settled him gently on my lap. His eyes opened, then he yawned and began to purr.

“Don’t get too cozy with me,” I said. “I’m betting that you’ll soon be back where you belong. Although I can’t say I think much of someone who would let you get loose in weather like this.”

The cat made a sort of warbling sound, almost like a bird, and I blinked at him. What kind of cat was he, to make all these odd noises?

The clinic waiting room was nicely heated, so I decided to unwrap the towel. The cat should be warm enough without it now. I examined him when he was uncovered. He was dark gray and white, with some black markings. A tabby with tiger markings, I guessed. The fur around his neck was rather thick, no doubt part of his winter coat, and there were little tufts of hair sticking out from the points of his ears. He was a handsome fellow, and he had an uncanny way of looking at me as if he knew exactly what I was thinking.

“Mr. Harris, Dr. Romano is ready for you.”

I looked up to see the young man in scrubs standing in the doorway. I got up from the chair, the cat in my arms, and walked through the door.