Лилиан Браун - The Cat Who Smelled A Rat

Koko was obviously pleased with his performance. He lounged full-length on the mantel and surveyed the clutter with satisfaction. And where was Yum Yum? Huddled in the spectator gallery on the stairs, guarding a treasure that the police had left behind: a stick of chewing gum, probably the first she had ever seen.

Qwilleran had survived enough catfits to know what to do: Stay calm; don’t scold; clean up.

As he worked, he considered the status quo. The catfit marked the advent of the Big One - but also the closure of the Three Bad Apples case. He knew by experience that Koko would now lose interest in apples, robins, carved boxes, and letters to the editor. It proved one of two theories: Either Koko was consciously exposing evil … or he was just a cat, briefly interested in this or that, and the connections were all coincidental. There were no absolute answers. Scientists, having heard of the cat’s aptitudes through a police lieutenant Down Below, had wanted to study Koko’s brain, but Qwilleran flatly refused. He preferred to attribute Koko’s gifts to his sixty whiskers.

For the cats’ dinner Qwilleran diced turkey from Toodle’s deli; for himself he opened a can of soup. Then he read aloud, with Yum Yum curled on his lap and Koko sitting tall on the arm of the chair. At one point, both small bodies tensed, and heads turned toward the front windows. Then both cats raced to the kitchen window. All was silent outdoors, and the night was dark, but light from the kitchen revealed the first few snowflakes fluttering lazily to the parched earth.

A deep gurgling sound came from Koko, and a faint mewing from Yum Yum. It was the prelude to the Big One!

Qwilleran grabbed his jacket and wool hat and went out the front door. The flakes meandered earthward like a gentle blessing. No neighbor was around to share the magical moment. Two delicate snowflakes came to rest on his moustache. And then-why not? He stuck out his tongue.