I smiled at him. Like I’d said before, I couldn’t imagine him doing anything other than police work. It was in his blood.
• • •
Rebecca was waiting for me at the second-floor landing when I got to tai chi. She was holding a small brown paper bag from the Grainery that held a catnip Fred the Funky Chicken for Owen and some organic fish crackers for Hercules so he wouldn’t feel left out. Roma had told her what had happened to Owen.
“Is there any point in me telling you that you’re spoiling my cats?” I asked as I tucked the paper bag in my canvas tote.
“Not in the slightest, my dear,” Rebecca said, reaching over to pat my cheek.
I heard Maggie call, “Circle.” It was time for the class to start, which meant I had no time to argue with Rebecca. Not that I would have won anyway.
When I turned around after finishing the form at the end of class Marcus and Eddie were standing in the doorway. Marcus smiled at me but made his way toward Maggie. I knew that Brady was still out of town. Marcus had mentioned on the drive down that he wanted to talk to Maggie.
“Call me if you want to work on Push Hands on the weekend,” Ruby said on her way out the door.
I nodded, reaching for my towel. Roma came across the floor fastening the buttons of a cranberry cardigan that went well with her dark hair and eyes. “I’ll see you and Owen in the morning, about nine thirty,” she said.
“We’ll be there,” I said.
“Owen’s okay?”
I blotted the back of my neck with the towel. “If he was a person I’d say he’s milking this whole thing. He spent most of the day lounging on a chair watching Marcus paint the ceiling in my spare bedroom and I’m pretty sure someone”—I tipped my head in Marcus’s direction—“gave him more than cat food at lunchtime. Plus Rebecca got him another chicken because he had to have stitches.”
Roma smiled. “I think I’m going to be a cat in my next life.”
I grinned back at her. “Me too.”
• • •
The collar was still in place around Owen’s neck when I got up the next morning, much to my surprise, although I noticed some threads hanging along one edge probably because he’d been chewing or clawing at it. He sat at my feet while I started the coffee.
“You’re fine,” I said, reaching down to stroke his fur. He sighed and went over to his dish.
My cell rang then. I reached for it, noticing it was Roma.
“Kathleen, I’m sorry but I’m going to have to cancel Owen’s appointment because I have an emergency with a horse.”
“It’s all right,” I said. “I don’t see any sign of infection around the stitches and he’s kept the collar on.”
“That’s good,” Roma said, “but I’d still like to see him. I know Fridays are your late day, but is there any chance you could bring him over on your supper break?”
“I could do that.”
“Okay, I’ll see you around five thirty?”
I nodded even though she couldn’t see me. “We’ll be there.”
Since I didn’t have to take Owen to see Roma until later, I spent the morning cleaning and doing laundry. I took the canvas drop sheet that Marcus had used while he was painting and hung it outside on my clothesline. Not a good idea. The wind caught it before I’d even gotten it clothespinned to the line and it sailed across the backyard and over the fence into Rebecca’s yard before I could manage to grab even an end of the tarp. All I could do was give chase.
I was wrestling with the drop cloth, trying to keep it from blowing away again, when Sandra Godfrey from the post office came around up Rebecca’s driveway.
“Hang on,” she called. “Grab that end and I’ll get this one.” She shifted the heavy mailbag on her shoulder to one side and hurried across the grass, putting her foot on the edge of the tarp before the wind lifted it again. Together, the two of us managed to get the big piece of canvas folded into something a lot more manageable.
“Thanks,” I said, hugging the bulky, folded drop cloth against my body. “If you hadn’t come along I could have ended up in Red Wing.”
Sandra grinned at me. “Well, for a moment I wasn’t sure if maybe that’s what you were trying to do.” She pulled a padded envelope out of her mailbag. “Is Rebecca around? She needs to sign for this.”
I shook my head. “She isn’t.” I looked at the package she was holding. The return address was Rebecca’s son, Matthew’s. “Could I sign for it?”
She shrugged. “Sure. It would save me having to take this back to the post office and it would save Rebecca a trip to pick it up.” I signed where she showed me and tucked the small parcel under my arm.
“Thanks for your help, Sandra,” I said.
“No problem, Kathleen,” she said with a smile, shifting the heavy mailbag back onto her hip. “Try to keep your feet on the ground.” With that she headed back down the driveway and I made my way back to the house.
Before I left for work at lunchtime I went looking for Owen. He wasn’t hard to find. He was in the living room, sprawled on his back on the footstool, lazily staring up at the ceiling. With the collar on he looked like he was having some kind of spa treatment.
“You don’t belong on that footstool,” I said.
He rolled over awkwardly onto his side.
“Nice try, but I think you’re fine,” I said.
“Mrr,” he objected.
“Well, it’s a good thing we’re going to see Roma at supper time.”
Owen narrowed his eyes at me and his tail thumped the top of the ottoman.
“Same deal as before,” I said, stroking his soft fur. “You go, you behave—more or less—and you get sardines when we get home.”
He made a sound that I thought of as muttering like an old man. “For the record, behaving means no biting and no clawing. You can hiss if you want to.”
He seemed to think about my words for a moment, then rolled onto his back again in the November sunshine streaming through the window. I took that as a yes.
• • •
Owen was waiting in the kitchen when I got there at supper time. He was in a bit of a cranky mood. When I tried to settle him in the carrier he yowled loudly and twisted in my arms and I could see that it wasn’t going to work anyway with the collar in the way.
“Fine, you win,” I told him. “This time!”
I grabbed Rebecca’s parcel and my keys and headed out to the truck. Owen didn’t even make an attempt to try not to look smug.
Roma was waiting for us at the clinic. She checked Owen’s ear as well as the scratches on his nose and paw. “He’s healing incredibly well,” she said to me. “Keep the collar on for the weekend, but it can come off on Monday.”
Owen looked up at her from the examining table, giving her his best I-am-so-pitiful look. Roma reached into her pocket and pulled out a small plastic bag about half full of star-shaped cat crackers. She set four of them in front of Owen. He meowed a thank-you before bending his head to carefully sniff the treat.
“Now who’s spoiling my cats?” I teased.
“He deserves something,” Roma said. “He behaved really well.”
I didn’t say a word. I just continued to look at her.
“He behaved well for him,” she amended. “Hey, he didn’t even try to bite me.”
That was true, although Owen had hissed several times and his claws had come out. However, considering how much he loathed a visit to Roma’s clinic, that was progress.
I gave her a hug. “Thanks for taking such good care of the little furball.”
“Anytime,” she said with a smile. “Owen and Hercules are kind of like family. Does that sound odd?”
“Not to me,” I said, smiling back at her.
I carried Owen out to the truck and set him on the seat. He looked expectantly at me.
“You just had a treat. You don’t need another,” I told him.