Анна Керн - A Paw-sible Theory

“Did the store get the name of the person who turned it in?”

“The store manager said it just appeared on the Customer Service counter; the clerk behind the counter didn’t see anyone put it down.”

“Whoever took your purse could have had another key made during that hour that it was missing.”

“At the time, I thought whoever took it had a change of heart and decided to return it.”

“And now?”

“Now I’m not sure. You think someone had a key made and tried to rob me Saturday morning?”

“That may have been the original intent of the thief, but it seems unlikely that he/they would have tried to rob you in broad daylight, key or no key…I’m going to look further into this, and I’ll call you if I need any more information. In the meantime, I strongly suggest you have the lock changed immediately, before you go home, in fact.”

“I like to believe the best of people, but I know there are criminals out there. I’ll ask Maggie to take care of that.”

“Good.” He reviewed his notes once more. “There is just one more thing that needs clearing up. Do you remember specifically locking both locks on your door when you retrieved your paper Saturday morning?”

She bit her lower lip, deep in concentration. “I don’t remember. I’m in the habit of always locking the door when I’m home, but I don’t remember specifically if I locked either lock, or any for that matter. I’m sorry.”

It sounded like David Hunter was out of questions. He put his notebook away, and stood to leave. “I’m meeting with a private investigator I use for tough cases, and I’ll have him look into this also. I’ll be in my office for the next couple of hours if you have anything else.”

“If cats could talk, they wouldn’t.”

–– Nan Porter

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX: Star Witness Returns

Thursday, five days after Pooky disappeared, low clouds grounded the flight school students at the nearby airport, making it a quiet day over Beachside. Mindful of the fact that no one can force a cat to do anything he doesn’t want to do; I simply had to wait for Pooky to make the decision to come in. The way I figured it, she was probably ready to do that anytime now.

Misty had the watch, and she confessed as soon as it happened that she had dozed off and missed Pooky’s return. She said the rain made her tired and she closed her eyes for just a minute, and when she opened them, she saw a flash of black fur sliding out of the screened porch.

I was disappointed, but my comment was positive. “It’s good that she showed herself. Maybe if it keeps raining she’ll call it quits.”

As I predicted, later that morning, a bedraggled Pooky slid through the partially-open screen door. I motioned to Misty to slip away as we had previously discussed. Pooky looked a little thinner and dirtier, but okay otherwise. I watched unobtrusively from inside as she hungrily ate––pausing to look around before she took a drink. Familiar with the handicap, I knew how hard it must have been for her to catch anything to eat outdoors without claws.

I lay on my side, facing her, my non-aggressive stance signaling that I wouldn’t harm her. When it appeared that she was finished, I slowly got up, slipped through the cat door, kept a comfortable distance between us, and allowed her time to rest. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Misty edging closer and I gave her a look. A slash of my tail confirmed I was serious. Misty moved away, but not too far.

I stayed crouched by the cat door, and kept my eyes on both Pooky and Misty. As soon as Pooky woke up, Misty rushed out. Believing she was under attack, Pooky followed her natural instincts and ran. I charged after her.

With no destination in mind, Pooky zigzagged across the yard, slithering under bushes and around trees, until she suddenly stopped. A raccoon––bigger and heavier than us––slowly traversed the yard just a few feet away, maybe on his way to or back from searching garbage cans, or pets’ food bowls left outside.

For a few tense moments, we stared at one another trying to gage the degree of threat each presented. With razor sharp claws on human-like hands, raccoons are vicious fighters who do attack pets. I didn’t see any reason to prove that point. I backed up slowly and recommended Pooky do the same, allowing the raccoon to pass through. She trotted back to the house, and I followed at a quick pace, frequently looking over my shoulder, ready to stand and fight, if necessary. Apparently, the raccoon didn’t intend to detour from his course and continued on his path.

It was much later, after everyone had calmed down, that I found out what had happened on Saturday morning before Pooky ran away.

Her story was that she was relaxing on the floor behind my chair when a lizard crossed in front of her. She was bored and thought it would be fun to chase it around for a bit. She was right behind it as it scuttled into the kitchen. Alyx was sitting at the kitchen table with her back to the dining room doorway––she may have heard Pooky, but she didn’t see her. I asked Pooky to demonstrate what she did and ushered the girls into the kitchen.

Pooky looked up to where the pot had been. She demonstrated that she had jumped up on the counter and leaped to the top of the wall cabinet, lost her balance, and knocked the pot down. Then, she had run back into the dining room, hid under the hutch and stayed there until she had the opportunity to run out.

As far as I was concerned, what had happened was an accident. I still didn’t understand why Pooky had run away. She explained that when her former humans first brought her home with them as a kitten, they were very understanding of cat behaviors, but as she got older, they became more intolerant. They became very angry when she scratched their brand-new coffee table and ruined their sheer drapes. She knew they didn’t want her climbing on things, but she couldn’t help it and a few of their items got broken.

At that point, she seemed unsure if she should continue, and I encouraged her to go on; I wanted to hear the rest of the story.

She thought her former owners were playing a game with her when they let her out of the car. She thought they wanted her to play in the tall grass, but the car left just as she bounded away. She ran back to the spot where her humans had left her and waited for them to come back for her. They never did.

That first day out in the unfamiliar setting was very scary and unsettling for a young cat that had only known a cage at an animal shelter, and then a comfortable home. Pooky had no idea where she was or what she should do. Tired and hungry, she moved away from the road and found a sheltered spot under a palmetto bush. She couldn’t stop trembling as she tried to remember some key points about being outdoors and hunting for food, but there wasn’t much to remember. Separated from her mother at a very young age, she had not received any of the training a cat usually gets from its mother. All she knew about hunting was what she had heard from some of the cats she had lived with before her adoption.

She fondly remembered one sage tiger cat talking about what it was like living outdoors. He had belonged to a colony of feral cats. That was the only way of life he knew and he missed it terribly. The tiger cat liked to re-live the good times by telling the younger cats about his hunting expeditions, making it sound easy and fun. Pooky decided while she was out there in the open, that she would try some of the tactics that Mr. Tiger had told them about the next morning. In the meantime, she would stay put––maybe by then the trembling would stop. Morning came and went and she still had not moved. When her body was finally still, the hunger pangs stirred her to explore the area. As she skulked about, she munched on leaves of plants that looked okay to eat, although she didn’t know much about that either. She hoped she wouldn’t eat anything that made her sick––or worse––poison her.