A Paw-sible Theory

“Thousands of years ago, cats were worshipped as gods. Cats have never forgotten this.”

––Anonymous

CHAPTER TWELVE: Decision Time

I ran ahead to see who was pounding on the door, and what was so urgent. I knew Ethan was in trouble as soon as he opened the door, and I saw Detective Smarts and his partner standing there with stern expressions on their faces. Maggie hurried to the door when Smarts asked Ethan to step off the porch. Ethan did as instructed and so did I.

“What’s this all about? Do you have a suspect?”

“We’re here to arrest you for the attempted murder of your mother, Alyx Hille.”

Ethan laughed defiantly. Maggie’s hand flew to her mouth in a gesture of disbelief.

Detective Albright read Ethan his rights. The laughing stopped once he was hand cuffed, his face devoid of any emotion, his eyes empty of feeling. I brushed against his legs offering him unconditional love and support. Ears back, tail bushed, doing my best to look as fierce as possible, I stalked over to Detective Smarts and snarled.

“Ms. Broeck, that cat is a menace and he’s not on a leash. Please take him inside or I’ll have to call Animal Control.”

Maggie didn’t comply right away; she placed a comforting hand on Ethan’s arm before Detective Smarts led him to the squad car.

“Don’t worry, Ethan; I’ll call a lawyer and get you out as soon as possible, and I’ll take care of things around here and with Alyx until you get back,” Maggie said.

“Thanks, Maggie,” was all he said.

As soon as the police had driven away with Ethan, Maggie sat heavily on the bench in the foyer, and I found a spot next to her. She buried her face in my abundant fur. I didn’t mind; she needed a hug.

“You’re lucky you’re a cat and don’t understand what’s going on,” she whispered. “Alyx in a coma, now Ethan arrested for attempted murder; what am I going to do?”

She stood abruptly. “I know one thing I’m going to do. Alyx isn’t going to like it when she finds out, but it’s for the best. His father has had a free ride for too long, if you ask me. It’s time for Bob Hille to get involved in his son’s life, whether he likes it or not.”

I also made a decision. I’m no detective, but my human family was in trouble and I was the only one who could get to the truth. Based on a hunch, I decided to conduct my own investigation. I knew there was no way Ethan had anything to do with hurting Alyx, and I was going to prove it.

The fact that Pooky had run away bothered me. I couldn’t think of any reason why she would do that––unless she saw something that might have panicked her. Maybe, I thought, Misty saw or heard something I missed. But first, I needed a snack; the shredded chicken Maggie had left on two paper plates in the dining room would do just fine.

When we were alone, Misty bombarded me with questions, some of which I couldn’t answer such as why they took Ethan away, where did they take him, and when was he coming back. I didn’t want to scare her, but I was just as bewildered by the events as she was.

As a rule, cats don’t talk but have always been able to communicate with each other, and rumor has it that some uncommon cats have the ability to communicate the same way with humans. I told Misty I had something important to discuss with her and guided her to the dining room. I jumped up on the maple dining room table surrounded by four birdcage-back chairs all refinished by Alyx. I circled the centerpiece, a large white pitcher filled with wilted, yellow roses from the yard. I accepted that what had happened was beyond my control, and explained that if Ethan went to prison it wouldn’t only ruin his life, it could damage Alyx to a point from which she might never recover. We had to help Ethan. Misty didn’t see what we, being just cats, could possibly do to help since we weren’t’ even allowed to go outside.

I thought I had been patient enough with her. I jumped off the table with fur flying; landing softly on all fours, nose to nose. There was history to prove that the Egyptians once worshipped cats as gods. True, as Misty said, that was thirty-five hundred years ago in Egypt, give or take a few hundred years, and cats didn’t have that kind of power any more but as individuals, cats still had humans in their service. Misty argued the point using Pooky as an example, how her humans abandoned her in the woods, miles from home.

Contrary to popular wisdom, a cat’s brain is structurally similar to the human brain, and I could process vital information as quickly as any animal, the only difference being that what I considered vital was not necessarily what a human would consider vital. So sometime later, safe under Alyx’s bed, I did some thinking.

From the beginning, the other two felines looked to me to explain things that they didn’t understand and generally went along with what I said, not only because I was bigger and stronger––my sixteen-pound size did help––but because I seemed to have greater knowledge of the laws, rules, and regulations that governed humans.

My decision to prove Ethan innocent didn’t surprise me when I thought about what my mother had told me when she learned that I was adopting Alyx and leaving soon. There wasn’t much she could tell me about my father. All she knew about him was that he came from a long line of great tabbies and that made me a pedigreed cat. The M on my forehead was proof of it. Unfortunately, not having the mark herself, she didn’t know exactly what it meant. My feeling was that it was just a legend, but then again, who knows?

I fell asleep with that last thought in mind and woke up hours later to Misty’s wet licks on my face, the earlier disagreement forgotten. I crawled out from under the bed on my belly, stretched front to back, sat back and washed my face. Misty helped by grooming my left ear. I sauntered to the food bowl with Misty trotting at my side. I wasn’t happy to see an almost empty bowl but I didn’t worry. Maggie had told Ethan she would take care of us, and I was sure she would, mostly because that’s what Alyx would want her to do, but also because she was getting to know our personalities and I sensed she was starting to like us.

On Monday morning, the lawn service people were busy at their work, making the usual racket associated with lawnmowers, trimmers, and leaf blowers. The commotion outside kept Misty and me on the alert inside as we ran from one side of the house to the other side.

I wasn’t expecting Maggie so early and didn’t hear her car pull up, so I was somewhat unnerved when I heard the key slide in the lock. Maggie had lied; she had let Ethan assume that she didn’t have a key when she did. I wasn’t so sure I should trust her anymore and I deliberately took my time responding when she called.

The expression on Maggie’s face was one of guilt when Misty and I showed up without Pooky, and she finally realized that Pooky was missing.

She began a search of the house; Misty following her around, helping her look in and under things. By the time she finished searching the house, the lawn service people had left. Maggie refilled the food and water bowls and went outside, a bag of cat treats in her hand. I hoped Pooky had not been terrorized out of the yard, if she still happened to be there, when the noisemakers arrived earlier in the day.

Mrs. Leary was sitting on her porch waving to Maggie, “Hold on a minute, dear, I want to talk to you,” shouted Mrs. Leary walking across the lawn towards her.

“It’s a shame about Ethan,” she said. “I do hope he didn’t have anything to do with what happened to his mother. Of course, no one in the neighborhood believes he did.”

“Well, let’s hope the jury believes it too or he’s looking at possibly spending the rest of his life in jail.”

“What about Alyx, how is she?”

“She’s the same. Her doctor is still hopeful she’ll wake up soon.”

“I hope you’ll let me know when she does; I’d like to send her a card.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you. I’ll be here every day and have a lot going on. I’ll try to remember to tell you, but feel free to ask me when you see me.”

Maggie walked around the house once and went back to ask Mrs. Leary if she had seen Pooky––a longhaired, domestic black cat with different color eyes.

“Isn’t that the stray that was going door to door begging for food a while back? The one that charmed Alyx into taking her in?”

“Yes, that’s the one. Have you seen her?”

Mrs. Leary said she hadn’t seen that particular cat in the yard but would be glad to keep an eye out for her.

I had given a lot of thought to Pooky’s disappearance. I didn’t know exactly why she ran away but I was convinced she knew something important. I thought I had caught a glimpse of her the previous day, and in the early hours of the morning, I formulated a plan. However, I needed Maggie’s help to carry it out, and since I couldn’t directly communicate what I wanted her to do, I had to rely on my knowledge of human behavior.

I wasn’t surprised when Maggie came back inside with the treats but no Pooky. Something had made Pooky leave the safety of home and she wasn’t going to be enticed by a few treats. I sniffed the treat Maggie offered from the bag in her hand, savored it in my mouth, and thought it was disgusting. Misty agreed and tried to bury it.

“I take it you don’t like it,” Maggie said, amused. “Let’s see what else we can find.”

She threw the treats in the trash and looked in the pantry for something else; my loud purring guiding her to pick just what we wanted.

Snack time over, Misty and I complied with Maggie’s wish to play by chasing after the paper wads she tossed at us. Misty dragged her string over to play tug-of-war, and I joined in the game, pulling at the string, occasionally swatting at Misty until she decided she didn’t want to share anymore and took it away.

Misty was obsessed with a thick, long shoelace from one of Ethan’s athletic shoes. He had given her the shoelace after unsuccessfully trying to keep her away from his shoes. She would not let it out of her sight; if she wasn’t laying on it, she was dragging it with her. She loved to play tug-of war. Sometimes she tossed it in the air, pouncing on it when it came down. When it fell on her, draping itself around her neck, she went about her business of keeping track of everyone, perfectly happy with it that way.

When she was really bored, she pretended she wasn’t the one flicking the tip of her tail and would try to catch the rascal, rolling head over tail all over the floor, and I usually ended up playing a game of hide-and-seek with her––I hid and then attacked her as she walked by.

I chased after her with no intention of catching her. A few minutes later, she was back, her second favorite toy in her mouth––a sock tied in a knot.

She dropped the sock at Maggie’s feet and waited for her to toss it, readying herself to retrieve it, low to the ground, her rear wiggling. She did this a few times then she sauntered over to her string and fell on it, protecting it from any predator.

Finally, tired of the games and anxious to begin the investigation, I decided it was time for Maggie to leave. I signaled Misty, and by previous arrangement, she ran in one direction, I in another.

Relying only on my knowledge of human behavior, unseen behind a large potted plant, I watched Maggie tidy up the living room and as she made her way to the front door, she picked up and tossed the toys in a basket by the couch. She was almost out the door, when she turned back and did just what I had been desperately willing her to do––she put food and water out on the screened porch and used a small empty pot to prop open the outside screen door a few inches.

Now I had another decision to make. Should I tell Misty? I concluded it would be better if she knew; less chance of her getting frightened and unwittingly messing things up, I reasoned.