1 A Paw-sible Theory (6 page)

“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.

When I landed in the ferns, my natural instincts took over, and my vision immediately adjusted to the darkness of the moonless night. The gnarled branches of the live oak trees took on a menacing appearance, the lush landscaping in daytime was a jungle at night, and I was no longer a domestic house cat; I was a wild jungle cat.

Since I had prepared for the task, I wasn’t afraid, even though it was my first venture outside after dark. A firm believer in the adage, “Hope for the best, and prepare for the worst,” I had anticipated my fears; having seen raccoons in the backyard from time to time, and heard the frightening noises they made fighting each other. I was also fully aware of the stray cats that occasionally roamed the yard. But most important, I was confident of my abilities; I felt I had overcome the handicap of not having any front claws. I had sharpened my skills using my back feet for fighting by practicing on Misty. Still––I hoped I would not have to fight.

There were shadows and noises all around me as I stealthily made my way to where I thought Pooky was hiding. I recognized two sounds: the hooting of the great horned owls in the distance, and the whining of a screech owl––a tremulous descending wail coming from right above me where the bird made its home in the cavity of an old tree. Owls are nocturnal hunters and fearless in defense of their nest and it was unsettling when I looked up and she turned her head the full range of her ability. I was prepared to defend myself but sensed she was no threat, just curious.

Pooky was nearby, I sensed it; but she stayed out of sight. In fact, I knew exactly where she was and could have pounced on her at any time, but since I didn’t intend to hurt her, I didn’t want to chance her running out of the yard. I let her know that Alyx had been hurt, that she was alive but in a coma and that Ethan had been arrested for trying to kill her, and needed help to prove his innocence.

To my consternation, she stubbornly remained hidden. I sat for a long time, all the while explaining how important it was for me to know exactly what had happened Saturday morning. I let her know that the doors were open, there was food and water in the lanai if she decided to do what she knew was right. My last plea was to remind her that Alyx had saved her life and deserved her help. On that note, I cautiously headed back to the house. The moon continued to hide but it didn’t matter, I could see just as well without the moonlight.

It felt good to be outside; the freedom was exhilarating. My senses heightened; I stopped abruptly and crouched to leap. Someone else had entered the yard––several others, in fact.

Suddenly, a scruffy, gray cat brazenly stepped directly in my path, making loud, guttural, screeching noises as if I was the one trespassing rather than the other way around.

I immediately recognized him as the bully often seen hanging around the yard when no one was home. I answered with a few choice words of my own and stood my ground––fur puffed up, ears back, crouched low to the ground, and ready to spring, if necessary.

Engaged in a stare-down match with the stray, I heard rustling noises in the bushes and caught flashes of fur, alerting me to the stray’s friends gathering around for the fight. At the same time, there was another sound behind and to my left, between me and the other cats. In my peripheral vision, I saw Pooky surreptitiously making her way towards me. I let out a low growl, warning her to stay out of it. To my right, I heard Misty pawing at the screen, itching to get out. I had enough to worry about and hoped they would both stay put.

Clearly aware of my handicap, I knew I had to act quickly. Letting out a surprisingly loud screech, I leaped into action, my clawless paws smacking the gray cat into confusion. I pounced like a football player defending the last touchdown and quickly had the cat pinned down on its back. Having no claws, I had to rely on teeth and back legs, biting the cat’s neck repeatedly while shredding his stomach with my back feet.

The quickness of my actions had the cat disoriented. I savored the win, and then slowly released my hold. The intruder started to back off but not before taking one last swipe, catching me on the nose with his claws. I wanted to tear him up but allowed him to run away, as all bullies do when confronted.

When I was sure the intruder and his friends were all out of the yard, I made my way back inside. Misty rubbed against me, checking for injuries. She licked the gash on my nose, and inspected the chunks of missing fur on my ears.

“Prowling his own quiet backyard or asleep by the fire, he is still only a whisker away from the wilds.”

––Jean Burden

CHAPTER FOURTEEN
:
 
A Ploy Well Played

Curled up tight, paws over my eyes, tail wrapped around myself securely, I winced slightly as I uncurled and saw Misty looking down on me from her perch on the back of my chair. Arching my back first, and then stretching languidly and yawning, I reminded her that, according to cat etiquette, it wasn’t proper to stare. I was hungry and headed for the kitchen, happy to see there was enough food and water for breakfast. When I finished, I approached Misty with an idea I had worked out during the night when it looked like I was sleeping. She quickly agreed, without questioning my instructions, to watch for Pooky and to report to me if she saw her come in, and do absolutely nothing else––strongly emphasizing the latter, explaining that I didn’t want anything to scare Pooky away.

I was sure that Pooky had the answer, and if I could get her to tell me what happened, I was certain I would be able to communicate it to an appropriate human.

Misty was on duty at her post in front of one of the tall windows looking out to the back yard, not moving a muscle. Maggie walked past her and came to me curled up in a ball on Alyx’s bed. When she called me, I opened one eye briefly, but didn’t move.

“What’s the matter, Murfy? You miss Alyx, don’t you?” she asked as she inspected the slash on my nose and the tufts of fur missing around my ears.

“What happened to you, fur-baby? You look like you’ve been in a fight. I told you the other day not to mess with Misty or someone was going to get hurt, and it looks like Misty won. Come on; let’s get you something special to eat.”

The police were through with their investigation, and the yellow tape closing off the kitchen was gone. Maggie opened my favorite can of food and emptied it on a paper plate. I just collapsed in front of it, stretching out my front paws, placing my chin flat between them, giving the impression that I was sad and depressed.

The ploy worked. She joined me on the floor. “Ethan is all right,” she said reassuringly. “His Dad’s been to see him, and he hired David Hunter, the best defense lawyer in the county who’s working hard on his case.”

She shook her head and ruffled my fur. “Listen to me,” she said. “I must be losing my grip on reality. I’m actually talking to a cat.”

Nevertheless, she continued to talk, saying not to worry, Alyx was fine, and she would be home soon. “Before you know it; your family will be back.”

I couldn’t exactly say she was lying, but she wasn’t telling me everything either. Earlier that day, I had overheard Mrs. Leary tell a neighbor in the backyard that they had charged Ethan with first-degree attempted murder, denied him bail, and transferred him to the County Branch Jail.

Maggie then commented on the fact that according to the wife of the judge who had denied Ethan’s bail, Judge Terrence Stoner, a pillar of the community and due to retire in four months, her husband wanted nothing to mar his record. The rumor was that Judge Stoner had been elected to err on the side of caution. He had concluded that Ethan was financially irresponsible, emotionally unstable and could be a danger to his mother.

As far as I could tell, the only good news was that Bob Hille had hired a good defense attorney. He had finally come through for his son––being there when Ethan needed him.

Always a gentleman, I ate my portion and then relieved Misty at her post so she could share the special treat. Maggie, in the meantime, took care of our other needs. A while later, I heard her tell someone on the phone that she was heading to the hospital. I thought about hitching a ride, making sure that she didn’t see me this time, but decided to walk instead. Measuring the journey a
s the crow flies
; it was a shorter distance.

“It is in the nature of cats to do a certain amount of unescorted roaming
.”

––Adlai Stevenson

CHAPTER FIFTEEN:
 
The Awakening

Maggie must have taken a detour. She wasn’t at the hospital when I arrived. I found out I wasn’t heavy enough to open the automatic doors and I had to wait for someone who was. I picked two teen girls, both busy talking on their phones, confident they wouldn’t notice me slide in behind them. After that, I had to be careful, ducking behind open doors and corners.

Just as I arrived in her room, the monitors were blinking wildly, and several medical staff members hurried into the room. Alyx sat up with a jolt. I ducked behind a screen near the door, and peeked out so I could hear and see everything that happened.

Dr. Casey introduced himself to Alyx and asked her if she knew where she was, where she lived, and what year she was born. He explained that they would be doing a lot of testing to make sure everything was functioning as it should. Luckily, I went unnoticed in all the confusion,

A bit later, Alyx’s ex-husband Bob, Detective Smarts and his partner walked in and took a stand at the foot of the bed. Behind the drawn curtain, I could hear Alyx ask the nurse taking her vitals if she could have something for her headache.

“This dreadful headache is making it impossible for me to string two thoughts together; they disappear as quickly as they come. Why am I here?”

“You were hit on the head and have been in a coma for two days.”

The nurse pulled open the curtain around the bed Alyx looked confused, and for a moment, the confusion rendered her silent. She glanced to her left hand, probably to confirm that she wasn’t married to Bob anymore. Perplexed, she turned to him for an explanation, and he said he’d explain later.

Smarts stepped up to her bedside. “Are you Alyx Hille?”

“Yes, I am.”

“I’m Detective Smarts, Beachside Police, and this is my partner, Detective Albright.”

Albright nodded his acknowledgement.

“Ms. Hille, do you know why you’re here?”

She brought two fingers to her temple in a useless gesture, as it didn’t seem to ease her pain.

“Yes, the nurse told me I was hit on the head.”

“Can you tell me what you remember about Saturday morning?”

At that moment, Doctor Casey came back into the room and interceded on her behalf.

“Excuse me, Detective Smarts. I understand it’s your job to ask questions, but Ms. Hille’s not ready to be questioned, and I’ll have to ask you to do it another time.”

“All right; but can I just ask one question before we go?”

“One question and only one.”

The detective turned back to Alyx. “Did you see who hit you?”

She shook her head and shrugged. “The last thing I remember is sitting at the kitchen table, then sudden blinding pain followed by an abyss of darkness.”

“Thank you, Ms. Hille; we’ll talk again when your doctor gives his permission.”

Bob stepped back as the others left, but he didn’t go out; then he stood in the doorway for a moment as if he didn’t want whoever was out there to see him. Alyx waited for the room to empty, before she asked, “So why are you here, Bob?”

He shifted from one foot to the other. “I’m not staying long. You have other company here to see you.”

“Did something happen to Ethan? Why are you here instead of him?”

“Ethan is fine...but...Alyx, I don’t know how else to say this other than just say it. He’s not here because he’s been arrested for attempted murder.”

Her body went limp so she could barely speak. “Attempted murder of whom?”

“You.”