A Paw-sible Theory

“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.