Анна Керн - A Paw-sible Theory

“It’s a shame about Ethan,” she said. “I do hope he didn’t have anything to do with what happened to his mother. Of course, no one in the neighborhood believes he did.”

“Well, let’s hope the jury believes it too or he’s looking at possibly spending the rest of his life in jail.”

“What about Alyx, how is she?”

“She’s the same. Her doctor is still hopeful she’ll wake up soon.”

“I hope you’ll let me know when she does; I’d like to send her a card.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you. I’ll be here every day and have a lot going on. I’ll try to remember to tell you, but feel free to ask me when you see me.”

Maggie walked around the house once and went back to ask Mrs. Leary if she had seen Pooky––a longhaired, domestic black cat with different color eyes.

“Isn’t that the stray that was going door to door begging for food a while back? The one that charmed Alyx into taking her in?”

“Yes, that’s the one. Have you seen her?”

Mrs. Leary said she hadn’t seen that particular cat in the yard but would be glad to keep an eye out for her.

I had given a lot of thought to Pooky’s disappearance. I didn’t know exactly why she ran away but I was convinced she knew something important. I thought I had caught a glimpse of her the previous day, and in the early hours of the morning, I formulated a plan. However, I needed Maggie’s help to carry it out, and since I couldn’t directly communicate what I wanted her to do, I had to rely on my knowledge of human behavior.

I wasn’t surprised when Maggie came back inside with the treats but no Pooky. Something had made Pooky leave the safety of home and she wasn’t going to be enticed by a few treats. I sniffed the treat Maggie offered from the bag in her hand, savored it in my mouth, and thought it was disgusting. Misty agreed and tried to bury it.

“I take it you don’t like it,” Maggie said, amused. “Let’s see what else we can find.”

She threw the treats in the trash and looked in the pantry for something else; my loud purring guiding her to pick just what we wanted.

Snack time over, Misty and I complied with Maggie’s wish to play by chasing after the paper wads she tossed at us. Misty dragged her string over to play tug-of-war, and I joined in the game, pulling at the string, occasionally swatting at Misty until she decided she didn’t want to share anymore and took it away.

Misty was obsessed with a thick, long shoelace from one of Ethan’s athletic shoes. He had given her the shoelace after unsuccessfully trying to keep her away from his shoes. She would not let it out of her sight; if she wasn’t laying on it, she was dragging it with her. She loved to play tug-of war. Sometimes she tossed it in the air, pouncing on it when it came down. When it fell on her, draping itself around her neck, she went about her business of keeping track of everyone, perfectly happy with it that way.

When she was really bored, she pretended she wasn’t the one flicking the tip of her tail and would try to catch the rascal, rolling head over tail all over the floor, and I usually ended up playing a game of hide-and-seek with her––I hid and then attacked her as she walked by.

I chased after her with no intention of catching her. A few minutes later, she was back, her second favorite toy in her mouth––a sock tied in a knot.

She dropped the sock at Maggie’s feet and waited for her to toss it, readying herself to retrieve it, low to the ground, her rear wiggling. She did this a few times then she sauntered over to her string and fell on it, protecting it from any predator.

Finally, tired of the games and anxious to begin the investigation, I decided it was time for Maggie to leave. I signaled Misty, and by previous arrangement, she ran in one direction, I in another.

Relying only on my knowledge of human behavior, unseen behind a large potted plant, I watched Maggie tidy up the living room and as she made her way to the front door, she picked up and tossed the toys in a basket by the couch. She was almost out the door, when she turned back and did just what I had been desperately willing her to do––she put food and water out on the screened porch and used a small empty pot to prop open the outside screen door a few inches.

Now I had another decision to make. Should I tell Misty? I concluded it would be better if she knew; less chance of her getting frightened and unwittingly messing things up, I reasoned.

“A cat has nine lives. For three he plays, for three he strays, and for the last three he stays.”

–– English Proverb

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: Witness Interviews

As soon as Maggie locked the door behind her, I was ready to question Misty as to where she was and what she was doing when she heard the crash. While she thought about it, I paced about the kitchen, in the style of Alyx’s favorite detective, Agatha Christie’s Hercule Poirot. I stopped in front of her, and my whiskers twitched involuntarily as I listened to her story.

She recalled bit by bit that she was in the guestroom, reclining on the back of the wicker daybed watching the silly squirrels chase each other up and down trees, insinuating that cats would never waste their time in such trivial pursuit. She was sure that she saw Ethan’s car in the driveway but when she went to the front door, it was gone. She went back to the guestroom and when she heard the crash, she saw Pooky running down the hall but didn’t see where she went.

The part about seeing Ethan’s car in the driveway was disturbing. As Misty suggested, it was possible that he realized he forgot something and left, but what if someone saw his car, and didn’t see him leave without getting out of the car. The thought made it more important than ever to bring Pooky in and find out what she knew. I didn’t want to jump to the wrong conclusion, so it was important that I convince Pooky to come in, if she didn’t do it on her own. My thinking revolved around the fact that there had to be a reason why Pooky ran away. She had spent two horrible weeks outdoors and nearly died when her humans abandoned her, it didn’t make sense that she would go back out there.

Eager to pin something on Pooky, Misty remembered that before the loud noise, she saw Pooky making her way to the kitchen, chasing after something, adding that maybe Pooky was the one responsible for what happened to Alyx. Didn’t I see her running from the kitchen when I heard the crash? True, but Misty was right behind her, I noted. Also true, Misty contributed; she rarely jumped on anything higher than three feet.

I thought it best to let Misty know that I was going to try to talk Pooky into coming back in the house. Misty didn’t understand how that was going to happen with the door locked. I awed her to the point of embarrassment on my part when she learned that I knew how to unlock the cat door, and that Maggie had propped open the outside screen door. I explained my strategy, and she gladly agreed to stand guard and alert me if she saw any sign of Pooky while I slept in preparation for my outdoor adventure.

I believed my mother when she told me that according to legend, the M on my forehead was the mark of the gods. That had to mean something. Mother also told me about the great gift given to all cats––nine lives. This, I understood, was to reassure me that if I ever ended up in one of those so called humane places, where most animals never came out of, I would be courageous and not lose hope. Personally, I was happy with my first life and didn’t particularly care to find out if there was a second.

I slid the latch over with my paw and was quickly out on the screened porch. Just a few steps and I cautiously slipped out the screen door, crouching low. I leaped blithely in the air and disappeared into the tall ferns surrounding the small brick patio just outside the door.