“You know, remove the old litter, scrape out the clumps of pee stuck to the bottom, wash it out with soapy water—I like to add a little bleach, too. For some reason Max loves the scent of bleach, don’t ask me why. Take a fresh sponge and a fresh pair of gloves—I hope they’re not too smallfor you. It’s one size fits all, though, so you should be good. Towel the box dry—use paper towels, not kitchen towels—and fill it up with about three to five inches of litter and you’re done.” She shrugged. “I don’t know why I’m telling you, though, seeing as you’re an even bigger cat person than I am. You’ve probably done this a million times.”
For a moment, Chase didn’t speak, then he said, a catch in his voice, “I may not be a bigger cat person than you, though, babe.”
“Oh?”
“The thing is—Alec told me to be extra-nice to your cats.”
“Now why would he say a thing like that?”
He turned to her.“The thing is, I like you, Odelia. I like you a lot. In fact it’s not too much to say I like you a whole damn lot—probably more than I’ve liked any woman.”
Her face flushed, as she realized four cats were holding their breaths in the backseat.
“I like spending time with you. I like coming home to you. I like sleeping with you. Heck, I’ve never felt happier than these past few months we’ve spent together.” He took a deep breath. “I like your cats, but I like you a lot more. I know you’re a package deal, babe. One woman and a litter of crazy cats. And that’s fine. In fact it’s more than fine. What I’m trying to say is…” He lowered his voice. “How do you feel about moving in together?”
She smiled and darted a quick look in the rearview mirror at her menagerie. They were still holding their breaths, or so it seemed.“Breathe, you guys,” she said. “Deep breaths.” She applied the same advice to herself, then looked over at Chase and spoke a single word. “Yes.”
Chase pumped the air with his fist.“One catsitter, free of charge, at your service.”
She laughed.“You don’t have to catsit. I was just joshing you.”
“Oh, thank God,” he said, throwing his head back.
“I thought you were so busted up when Blackie died? Or was it Smokey?”
“I was busted up when Blackieand Smokey died. Both of them. I had Blackie when I was six. And my folks got me Smokey when I was twelve. Those two were with me for many wonderful years. Only Smokey was a Lab and Blackie was a Golden Retriever. Best dogs a man has ever known. I still miss‘em every day.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry, Chase. Maybe we should get a dog?”
There was a collective intake of breath behind Odelia.
“Four cats and a dog? Don’t you think that’s a bit much?”
She patted his leg.“We’ll figure it out.”
Can a cat person peacefully coexist with a dog person? She had no idea, but she was willing to try.
“A dog,” Harriet said, a whining note in her voice. “She’s getting a dog. I hate dogs.”
“He’s moving in,” said Dooley, sounding shell-shocked. “He’ll eat all her pills and then there will be babies!”
“Oh, relax, you guys,” said Max. “Chase is okay. He saved us from that wild cat.”
“That’s true,” said Dooley musingly. “There may be hope for us yet.”
“My pee-pee,” said Brutus suddenly, interrupting the others. “It hurts.”
“Jeezus, Brutus,” said Max. “What is that thing?”
“Is that…” Harriet began, then cried, “Brutus, it’s huge!”
“And painful!” he cried. “Owowowow!”
“Didn’t you take the same pills, Max?” asked Dooley.
“I did.”
“Yours is tiny,” Harriet said with distaste. “Miniscule. Almost non-existent.”
Max sighed, the sigh of a long-suffering cat.“Why me?” he said.
“Are they all right?” asked Chase, turning in his seat to look back.
“They’re fine,” she assured him. At least she hoped they were.
Chapter 19
That night, we were all sufficiently recovered to attend cat choir, which is just about the biggest social event for cats in Hampton Cove. Cat choir is all about letting our inner cat out and sing to its heart’s content. The only drawback is that the neighbors of Hampton Cove Park are cultural barbarians who don’t appreciate the finer points of cat-produced art.
We don’t care, though, and carry on regardless of the catcalls and shoes thrown.
That night the meeting was a sad affair, though. All members were wearing their flea collars—perhaps the rest of the world had abandoned the terrible practice of outfitting cats with collars when the first flea reared its ugly head, but here in Hampton Cove the collar still reigned supreme, or so it seemed. There’s nothing to put a good cat down like the collar does, and we were all suffering the indignation. Even Shanille, our conductor, was downcast.
Brutus, recovered from his vitamin poisoning, for that was what he had apparently suffered, Dooley, the consumption of Odelia’s pill having had as its worst effect a slight case of diarrhea, and Harriet, vowing never to ingest flea-repellent ever again, were all present and accounted for. On me, those vitamin pills Vena had prescribed for Brutus merely had the effect of boosting my energy levels to such an extent that I was feeling fit as a fiddle.
So when suddenly Princess, the Most Compelling Cat in the World, showed up, along with a troupe of other cats I’d never seen, I felt oddly complacent. In fact I would have told the black cat to ‘bring it on!’ had it not been for my innate sense of self-preservation. Also, that scratch across the left butt cheek still hurt, and I wasn’t looking to turn the other cheek.
“Who are those cats?” asked Harriet as she stared in abject fascination.
And I had to admit that the small troupe of cats looked absolutely amazing.
For one thing, none of them were wearing flea collars, which made them stand out. And for another, they entered the scene with a marked swagger, as if they owned the place. You cannot own a park, of course, but it was obvious nobody had told them.
“Isn’t that…” Dooley said, his voice dying away. “Max, it’s Princess!”
Princess raised her paw.“We come in peace!” she declared, loud enough for the entire gathering to hear. “And we come bearing gifts!” she added, gesturing to her friends.
One by one, the cats stepped to the fore, tapping their chests and introducing themselves.“My name is Princess,” said Princess. “The Most Compelling Cat in the World.”
“My name is Beca, and I’m the Most Attractive Cat in the World,” a fit red cat said.
“I’m Chloe,” said a pretty striped cat. “And I’m the Most Intriguing Cat in the World.”
“I’m Aubrey and I’m the Most Iconic Cat in the World,” said a strapping white cat.
“And I’m Fat Amy, and I’m the Sexiest Cat Alive,” a well-rounded cat said.
“And together we’re the Most Interesting Cats in the World!” Princess yelled.
And suddenly, before our very eyes, the cats started performing the kind of routine one habitually sees on the stage of some Broadway musical. Or in those funnyPitch Perfect movies. They launched into a song-and-dance routine that had us all staring in abject awe.
They started off with a bit of Taylor Swift’sShake it Off, shaking their tails provocatively, flawlessly segued into Beyonc?’sCrazy in Love, synchronized dancing to the beat, then it was on to Gwen Stefani’sHollaback Girl before finishing off with a rousing rendition of Pink’sGet The Party Started, really blowing up the scene, dancing up a storm.
When the show was over, we all blew out a collective gasp of appreciation, then the entire cat choir burst into a loud and raucous applause.
The interesting cat collective stood panting for a moment, basking in the admiration, then took a slight bow, with Princess declaring,“Now it’s time for you guys to blowus away!”
I gulped, and so did some of the other members of cat choir. Truth be told, our repertoire is a little limited. Cat choir isn’t so much about putting on a compelling show but more about giving local cats a chance to shoot the breeze and sniff each other’s butts. And that’s what some of the members now did, approaching the Most Interesting Cats in the World and sniffing their butts. I could have told them this was not a good idea, but some cats can’t be told and need to be shown. A few harsh words and well-aimed lashes of razor-sharp claws later, five cats were racing away into the tree line with their tails between their legs.