The Cat Who Ate Danish Modern (19 page)

"I hope they'll be happy together," said Cokey.
"I think we're all going to be happy together," said Qwilleran. "I'm going to change her name to Yum Yum. I've got to change your name, too." The girl looked at him dreamily.
"You see," said Qwilleran, "Koko doesn't like it when I call you Cokey. It's too close to his own name." "Just call me AI," said Alacoque Wright with a wistful droop in her voice and a resigned lift to her eyebrows.
It was Monday when the news of Harry Noyton's Danish enterprise appeared on the front page of the Daily Fluxion under Qwilleran's by-line. In the first edition a typographical error had substituted "devious" for "diverse," but it was a mistake so customary that the item would have been disappointing without it: "Harry Noyton, financier and promoter of devious business interests," said the bulletin, "has acquired the worldwide franchise for a Danish scientist's unique contribution to human welfare - calorie-free beer with Vitamin C added." On the same day, in a small ceremony at the Press Club, Qwilleran was presented with an honorary press card for his cat. On it was pasted Koko's identification photo, with eyes wide, ears alert, whiskers bristling.
"I took his picture," said Odd Bunsen, "that night in David Lyke's apartment." And Lodge Kendall said, "Don't think I had an easy time getting the police chief and fire commissioner to sign it!"
When Qwilleran returned to the Villa Verandah that evening, he entered the apartment with his fingers crossed.
He had brought Yum Yum home from the hospital at noon, and the two cats had had several hours in which to sniff each other, circle warily, and make their peace.
All was silent in the living room. On the green Danish chair sat Yum Yum, looking dainty and sweet. Her face was a poignant triangle of brown, and her eyes were enormous circles of violet-blue, slightly crossed. Her brown ears were cocked at a flirtatious angle. And where the silky hairs of her pelt grew in conflicting directions on her white breast, there was a cowlick of fur softer than down.
Koko sat on the coffee table, tall and masterful, with a ruff of fur bushed around his neck.
"You devil!" said Qwilleran. "There's nothing neurotic about you, and there never was! You knew what you were doing all the time!" With a grunt Koko jumped down from the table and ambled over to join Yum Yum. They sat side by side identical positions, like bookends, with both tails curled to the right, both pairs of ears worn like coronets, both pairs of eyes ignoring Qwilleran with pointed unconcern. Then Koko gave Yum Yum's face two affectionate licks and lowered his head, arching his neck gracefully. He narrowed his eyes, and they became slits of catly ecstasy as the little female recognized her cue and washed inside his ears with her long pink tongue.
The End