Ширли Мерфи - Cat Chase The Moon

Giving Ryan a lick on the cheek, Joe hissed smartly at Clyde and headed away up the stairs. Up onto Clyde’s desk. A leap to the rafter. Out his cat door and across the darkening roofs to the Seavers’ where he had a feeling that, with Fay home, some kind of change was about to begin. He felt that time was running short, that they had to find awayout for Courtney even if their humans had to storm the place, even if they had to call 911 and claim the building was on fire. Galloping over redwood shingles to the Seavers’, he wondered if Dulcie and Kit and Pan had returned and were once more clawing at that small bathroom window, fighting for a way in . . . To do what, when his daughter was so damn stubborn?

20

Peering over from Seaver’s roof, Joe looked down at Dulcie, working awayat the powder room window.She should have been inside, this was her night to stay with Courtney. When he hissed softly, she looked up. She was standing on the tallest crate digging away at the window screen—even as he watched, the screen flew to the ground ripped aside, lay tilted atop the fallen dead branches and tall grass.

The evening was nearly dark, the antiques shop had been closed for some time. At this angle, from the shop’s roof, Joe could see only the softly lit sidewalk, a reflection from the display windows; he couldn’t see into the windows themselves, not without hanging by his hind feet. As Kit and Pan appeared, from the higher roof of the apartment, Joe leaped into a shaggy stone pine and to the ground, the golden tom and Kit behind him. They stood looking at the screen and at Dulcie.

“ I pulled the screen off,” Dulcie said proudly. “That woman is back, her name is Fay. I think she’s his wife, the way she acts. Courtney’s upstairs with them. When Fay and Ulrich came in, with her suitcases, Courtney and I were asleep. Courtney didn’t stir, she just slit her eyes open. She belongs here, or they think she does. The minute I heard them I flew into the powder room, pulled the window open a few inches, dove through so fast the whole screen went flying. I’d closed the glass and I’m sure I left it unlocked but I was in such a fright. Bert was still in the back. I guess he heard me, he looked out, saw the screen off but didn’t see me. Maybe he thought it just fell off, it was that old. He put it back. Maybe he found the window cracked open and locked it.” She looked at Joe and Pan. “I came back when he left and listened at the glass, that’s how I know her name. If we can open the window again, just a crack, maybe he won’t notice when he puts a screen up?”

And maybe he will, Joe thought. Pan thought the same. They could see inside where already a box of tools sat on the tile counter.

For a while, all claws dug fiercely at the window latch. If they could only open the glass, they could get in and Courtney could get out, and this time they’d make her come with them. Pan had a dry stick in his mouth, he was forcing at the edge of the latch. They had loosened it before, but now it had been made tighter. Pan looked at Joe, looked down at the towel they had left behind the crate. Wrapping it around the outside of the latch, they tried again. It took a long while before they knew they couldn’t open it. Together, the three of them headed for the roof, to make sure Courtney was all right and to get a look at Fay Seaver.

One would think that all the times they’d passed this shop, and the few times Dulcie and Kit had slipped in to admire the lovely relics, they would remember seeing Fay. The tomcats weren’t big on antiques; and all Kit had remembered was Ulrich Seaver, and the clerk. Maybe she’d thought Fay was one of the customers, or an interior designer; they came in here often, bringing their clients; the cats, staying in the shadows, had paid no attention to them; most interior designers were handsome, well-turned-out women.

Climbing the stone pine to the roof again, they made their way across the roof of the shop to the upstairs apartment. On the other side of that smaller structure they eased down onto the fancily sculpted edge of the overhang, its pie-crust décor iced with pigeon droppings. They arrived just as a woman was closing the draperies.

Was this Fay Seaver or someone else, maybe his lover? A handsome, auburn-haired woman about Ulrich’s age. As the draperies closed they left a little tiny slit at the end where a bookcase jutted out. The cats, crowding close, could just see through—and Joe Grey swallowed back a hiss.

Just look how Courtney had taken to this woman. Fay was gently holding his grown kitten, sweet-talking and cuddling her. Neither Dulcie nor Joe could bear to see Courtney smile up at her, they could both see that the calico was purring and they watched her lift a paw with delight. Joe was so disgusted he nearly bailed over the edge and left the scene.

When Fay turned to speak to Ulrich, he nodded and left the room. With both preoccupied, Courtney looked from Fay’s shoulder directly across to the slit in the draperies. From out on the ledge, four pairs of eyes looked in at her. Courtney, draped over Fay’s back, let her claws come out in fighting mode, long and sharp, not touching Fay but catching the light like rapiers, and she gave her family a wicked cat laugh. But when Ulrich returned with a large hoop such as a child would play with, and with a ball and a box, her expression changed to one of dismay.

Fay hugged her and set her down by the hoop. “Let’s start our training, shall we?”

Courtney didn’t run off, she waited patiently, but as Joe watched Fay try to manipulate his grown kitten, rage flared deep within him. He tried to think, What harm can a few tricks do? But the idea sickened him, to make his beautiful child into a slave cat. He wanted his girl out of there, and when he looked at Dulcie, she had a cold snarl on her tabby face—but now, as Fay tried to get her to jump through the hoop, the calico looked across into her daddy’s eyes with sly cunning.

It wasn’t easy to watch Fay try to teach Courtney, at this first lesson. The cats could see, from across the room and into the bedroom, Fay’s unpacked suitcase open on the bed; she seemed so eager to get started that she hadn’t even taken time to unpack. She called Courtney her “little prize,” her “shining star.” Courtney, seeming not to get the hang of this, again peered behind Fay not only scowling but sticking out her tongue, showing her hidden audience her real feelings.

Fay put Courtney down on the carpet in a better position and held the upright hoop at floor level. She held a little treat on the other side to get Courtney to walk through. Such a simple beginning; but Courtney seemed not to get it. She walked around the hoop to Fay’s side and tried to accept the bit of salmon from her hand. Fay withdrew it.

Fay tried again, and again, until at last she had Courtney stepping through. But when she lifted the hoop four inches, she never did get Courtney to hop or even step through. All four cats knew Courtney could have leaped to the ceiling, could have done all Fay’s tricks as slick as a circus tiger. Fay, frowning more and more, at last turned away looking as sour as spoiled pickles. “Is this what you brought me? Your famous exhibition cat?”

“She’s afraid, it’s something new for her, give her time. Or,” he said, looking intently at Courtney, “she’s bluffing, she doesn’t want to do tricks. Maybe . . .”

“Well, she’s not going downstairs to entertain herself, with that attitude. She can sleep up here.” Turning, she marched away to the bedroom. Ulrich joined her, just as annoyed, shutting the door behind them.

Courtney sat in the middle of the room looking at both doors. She turned to look at her cat family. She was half laughing, half weeping with frustration.