Анна Керн - A Paw-sible Theory

She haltingly moved through the vegetation, hiding every time she heard an unfamiliar sound. Her long luxurious fur started tangling, and eventually pulled out as she slid through dead branches and thick bushes.

She did catch a few insects––one baby lizard during the day––but by evening, her stomach was growling, and her mouth was dry. She heard some chirping up ahead, and silently approaching, she saw three small birds feeding on the ground. She tried the hide-wait-pounce method Mr. Tiger had described, but it didn’t work; the birds flew out of reach.

And so it went for the rest of the night and the following day as she trekked through what she thought was a never-ending jungle, but knew from the sounds and smells that she was not far from human habitats.

She looked around for a sheltered place to rest and found a hole created by a pile of debris, supported by two large branches. Some mice were exploring the area nearby and this time her hide-wait-pounce method netted her a baby mouse for dinner, and on her meandering walk back to the hideout, she found a ditch that still had a trickle of water left from the rain earlier in the week which allowed her to quench her thirst.

Full for the first time in days, she began to think that maybe she would be okay after all. Safe in her hideout, she thought how nice it would be if she could find a clowder to join as Mr. Tiger had found.

The lively meowing in the distance tempted her to cautiously venture out of her hideout. She approached quietly and kept out of sight, observing the small group of cats. They didn’t look as well kept or well fed as Mr. Tiger had led her to believe outdoor cats would look like. They didn’t look any better than she did––and she knew she looked awful. As soon as the feral colony became aware of her presence, the cats tensed and the biggest of the group––a tortoise male––stepped forward and turned in her direction. Apparently, Mr. Tiger had forgotten to mention that feral cats didn’t accept stray cats into their colonies.

Pooky slowly backed up, her heart beating in her ears, and when a safe distance away, ran as fast as her weakened body would let her until she was safe back in her hole. She curled her body tight, and buried her face in her paws, blotting out the harsh reality.

Things didn’t get any better over the next two weeks. She had trouble catching anything as her clawless paws made it almost impossible for her to hold on to anything but the smallest mammals. The insects and vegetation she ate weren’t enough to sustain her and the water supply was gone. She became weaker and weaker to the point where even the parasites she had acquired, left her body, because there was less and less for them to feed on. She kept losing weight and was literally skin and bones.

Eventually, she did find some kind humans who gave her food and water when she appeared at their door but not enough to sustain her ravaged body and by the time she found Alyx, she was dying. She knew she owed Alyx her life and was profoundly sorry for what had happened.

Saturday, when she heard the pot break, she feared that Alyx would want to get rid of her and bring her to one of those humane places that no one ever wants to talk about, even if someone does make it out alive. When she heard that Alyx was hurt, she thought she might have a better chance outdoors on her own.

I let her know that it didn’t bother me so much what she thought of Misty and me, but she should have known better than to think Alyx would get rid of her because of the accident; she wasn’t like that.

Pooky lowered her head, and apologized again. Pooky said she couldn’t let Ethan be locked up for something he didn’t do, and insisted that she wanted to do something to make up for the problems she had caused. She was sincere, and I sincerely needed help; I couldn’t be in two places at once and some places not at all.

Pooky said she could help with that. While living on the street, she’d made some friends in the neighborhood. She suggested that since the weather was so nice, most windows would be open and it would be no problem for a cat to hear a conversation going on inside.

I kept pacing, frustrated to have solved the case and not be able to free Ethan. In reality, what human was going to take me seriously? As Pooky stated, humans have limited imagination and since I couldn’t read, write, or talk, I was just a cat who looked and behaved like any other cat. Chances were that the expensive lawyer David Hunter would keep doing what he did, spinning his wheels and coming up with nothing. Hunter had said that putting Alyx on the stand was Ethan’s best chance, even though she hadn’t seen who had hit her. He said her testimony would weigh heavily with the jury, but would it be enough to keep Ethan from serving jail time?

I had no choice. I had to show Alyx what had happened, even if it might make me look guilty––which the girls were quick to point out.

There was an audible silence while I paced, thinking that I had to know what Hunter had uncovered so I would know what to do next––what information to communicate, to whom and how, and most important, I needed to know if there was anything immediate going on that threatened Alyx or Ethan’s safety.

I told Pooky I welcomed anything she could do to help.

“I have studied many philosophers and many cats. The wisdom of cats is infinitely superior.”

–– Hippolyte Taine

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN : The Defense Stumbles

David Hunter lived in another city but his office was on the peninsula right across the old Broadway Bridge, currently closed to traffic. Pooky was right about open windows in good weather. One particular window in Hunter’s office was low enough for me to see inside if I stood on my hind legs, and the shrubs up against the foundation were large enough to hide me.

The well-appointed, large corner office had plenty of light from the two windows in the room. The plush carpet was a dark shade of green. A mahogany desk faced the door, with two green leather armchairs in front of it, the low credenza for the coffeemaker and coffee mugs behind the desk. A brown leather couch sat against one wall. Bookshelves filled with law books lined the rest of the wall space. The total effect was one of order and success.

Hunter arrived soon after I had positioned myself on the window sill, with a man––lean and muscular with eyes so dark they were almost black. He was handsome, in a rough sort of way, or at least Hunter’s assistant thought so judging from the way she was acting. The scar over his left eye, enhanced, rather than detracted from his good looks.

He stopped at her desk for a moment. “Hi, Dorinda, nice to see you again.”

She smiled at him in a peculiar way. “Hi, Tim, it’s nice to see you too. I’m still waiting for you to tell me how you got that scar. Will you ever tell me?” Dorinda wanted to know.

He winked at her, “Maybe one day I’ll tell you.”

Hunter, waiting in the doorway to his office, rolled his eyes and groaned. “Will you stop flirting with my assistant and come in my office?”

“So what’s up?” the man asked. “Am I here to discuss the case as a professional or as the only friend you have?”

“Both. I want your professional opinion and possibly your help, and I want you to remind me what a great lawyer I am because, frankly, I’m baffled.”

Hunter pulled a file out and set it on the desk in front of him. My guess was that the file was Ethan’s. “Take a look at this and tell me what I’m missing.”

Tim poured himself a cup of coffee, and sat down to review the file while Hunter stepped out to the outer office.

When he walked back in, Tim was refilling his cup. “What about Alyx’s ex-husband? I don’t see anything on him.”