The Girl with the Cat Tattoo

Chapter 2

Max was a cat of action. The very next day after Melody left for work, he moved forward with his plan. He would go out into the world and return with a man for Melody. Leaving home was easy. All he had to do was slip out the doggy door that had been installed by the previous homeowners. When Melody and David moved into the place, there had been some discussion about the door.

“Max won’t leave the yard,” David had predicted.

He’d been right. In fact, just thinking of what might dwell beyond the solid fence scared the beejesus out of Max. Now, as he sat in the safety of his backyard kingdom, doubt crept in and he briefly wondered about the practicality of his matchmaking plan. But the trepidation didn’t last long. His spontaneous nature kicked in and he scaled the fence, then perched casually on a post, fake-licking a paw to give the impression that he had all day and was not on a mission. A cat, especially a cat like him, had to retain an outward appearance of cool at all times.

Upon occasion, he’d had the misfortune of spending time with cats that cried and begged and generally made fools of themselves. He would never be one of those cats.

With a vague plan in mind, he dove headfirst off the post, the pads of his feet contacting the rough surface of the fence boards, the ground rising to meet him. A fraction of a second later, he was upright in a clump of the neighbor’s yellow flowers.

They smelled heavenly.

He briefly forgot his mission. He touched the tip of his nose to the soft petals and sniffed, the flower’s sweet scent filling his head with the dreamiest of sensations that left him so transported that he collapsed in the deep grass.

His head gradually cleared, his awareness expanding beyond the gently bobbing yellow flowers. Daffodils? Were they daffodils? Melody had mentioned something about spring, but Max hadn’t paid much attention. He’d just been glad he could go outside without freezing his claws off, or without being greeted by a wall of snow and ice. But he had to admit if this was spring it was delightful.

Harsh sounds intruded. Those were followed by new, unpleasant odors. Terror came out of nowhere, and he almost ran back the way he’d come, but he controlled the urge to split.

He hadn’t been prepared for the sensory overload of the world beyond the fence. Foolishly, he’d thought it would be like the backyard, only bigger. But it was nothing like the backyard. Nothing.

He made his way down alleys and across streets. He stopped and sniffed, taking a reading. He could smell Como Zoo to the north. He could smell the eateries and fast-food joints on University Avenue. He could even smell his vet’s office, and, at one point, he almost thought he caught a whiff of his long-lost brother.

Focus.

But it was hard when every sight and sound and smell was a distraction. As he continued on his way, he tried to divert himself from a growing sense of panic and his inability to understand why anybody would ever leave home. He tried to calm himself by redirecting his attention to the qualities he would look for in a mate for his mistress.

The new guy had to have a nice voice. Nothing deep or scary. And he couldn’t move too fast either. He couldn’t smell funny. That was a big one-smell. Nice hands. Yes, hands were important. Maybe that was selfish, but so be it. They were a family, and the new person had to fit into both Max and Melody’s life.

Max was just beginning to calm down, to think that this world beyond his backyard wasn’t too bad and that it might even be exciting and fun and he might like to come here again even after he found a guy for Melody, when suddenly all hell broke loose. Sirens shrieked, almost shattering his delicate eardrums. Tires squealed, cars pulled to a stop in the middle of the street, lights flashing. Doors slammed, people shouted, and uniformed officers threw a skinny girl against the hood of a police car while she screamed and cussed.

From off in the distance came the sound of an ice-cream truck. Max recognized the distinctive music because sometimes Melody would buy what she called a drumstick, and she would let Max lick ice cream from her finger. The happy music relaxed him a little, but instead of running, he sat frozen on the sidewalk, watching the drama unfold. Like he’d done when David was killed. He’d been unable to move. Unable to help.

Cops.

So familiar. The shoes, the pants, made from fabric that was too thin, in Max’s opinion. He much preferred jeans. Easier to sink his claws into. The belt with a gun that, if shot, would be louder than the sirens.

Melody told Max a lot of things, the big one being she would never again date or marry a cop.

As quickly as it had come, the scene in the street dispersed. The cops stuffed the woman in the car, and soon there was nothing left but the ice-cream truck.

And Max got back to his mate list.

Nice voice.

Nice hands.

Not a cop. Definitely not a cop.

Max continued on his quest.

He liked to think he was one cool cat and everybody who was anybody knew him, but in truth he had very little street cred since he wasn’t known outside the walls of his own home. Call it antisocial, but Max preferred humans to the company of cats. Cats seemed…well, kind of stupid. That was the only way to put it. Stupid and selfish. All they thought about was their own personal comfort. A patch of sun. Favorite food. Sure, those were all good, but a cat had to look beyond that sometimes.

It didn’t take long for Max to realize that without the confines of his home his internal clock was messed up. It seemed like he’d been walking for a long time, but maybe it would be equal to a nap on the front porch, followed by a snack, a little exercise with a cat toy, and another nap. He was pondering the passage of time when the houses dropped away and an expanse of green opened up. He heard high-pitched squeals that he knew belonged to kids.

Max hated kids.

Yes, there was Melody’s librarian gig, but Max and Melody had a silent agreement. He wouldn’t talk about his day if she didn’t talk about hers. Much. That was important in a relationship.

A man sitting on a bench caught Max’s eye.

He had wild gray hair and a gray beard, big black shoes that were untied, long strings that would have been irresistible had Max been home. Although nobody else was around, the man seemed to be talking to someone.

He had a nice voice. Soothing, and not scary in the least.

Max stepped closer.

The man spotted him.

“Well, hey kitty. Look at you with them yellow eyes and that black-and-white coat. You are one handsome bastard.”

Max smiled, and for a moment he felt the uncontrollable urge to make the clicking noise he sometimes made when he saw a bird.

“Come over here and see old Jerry.” The man held out his hand in a way that wasn’t threatening. Max stepped closer until the man-Jerry-was able to touch him, patting him awkwardly on the head. Not a cat person, but he could be trained.

The man smelled like everything Max had passed on his way to the green space. The bus exhaust, hamburger grease, cigarettes. Like the organic, rotten odor that drifted from the holes at the street corners where the rats played. Like the sweet sour smell that came from the bottle in the paper bag beside the man.

Was this a mate for Melody? Had Max found him already?

“I’m getting hungry. How about you?” Jerry asked.

Now that Max thought about it, he was hungry.

The man tried to pet him again, but Max dodged the hand and circled his new friend’s legs like a nervous fish.

Jerry replaced the screw cap on his paper-bag bottle, stuck it in his grocery cart, and hefted himself to his feet. “I know a good place to eat,” he told Max. “Free food.” Jerry moseyed off.

Max couldn’t figure out if Jerry was pushing the cart or using the cart to prop himself up. Melody needed a healthy mate, not someone who drank from a paper bag and needed a cart to support himself.

Should he ditch this guy?

But he was hungry.

A mother and two kids approached.

“Kitty!” One of the children ran at Max. She was all pink clothes and red cheeks, and he knew her breath would smell like sour milk and Gummy Worms. Mom grabbed her hand and pulled her back, whispering something about a homeless man.

Max’s head shot up. Homeless? Melody had a home, so maybe a homeless man would be a good mate. But something told Max this guy, while having many of the requirements on Max’s list, might not be right for his mistress.

“Coming?” Jerry shouted over his shoulder.

Max followed, his tail with the bump in it pointing skyward, the tip bent in an awkward question mark.

He couldn’t help but notice that they were moving farther away from Max’s kingdom, and that made him nervous. He still had a strong bead on home, but the sensation of vast distance was growing, gnawing nervously at his belly. He had the overwhelming urge to stop in the middle of the sidewalk and make strange noises. He restrained himself, but it was only a matter of time before he began yowling like a baby.

The man didn’t move very fast, barely shuffling along the sidewalk, a smart technique for keeping his feet inside his shoes. Once again Max considered ditching him, but he found it hard to let go of an idea once it took hold. He also had to admit that he felt a little safer wandering around the city now that he’d found a friend. He noticed that people gave Jerry a wide berth, some even crossing to the other side of the street when they saw him coming. Max was impressed.

They turned down an alley where a cluster of people waited at a green door. Above the door were letters, and not for the first time Max wished he could read.

Melody read to him sometimes. Maybe she was reading aloud to herself, but he liked to think she was reading to him, telling him stories like the Cat in the Hat, Alice in Wonderland, and Pippi Longstocking.

“That your cat, Jerry?” The question came from a man who looked a lot like Max’s new friend.

“It’s a kitler,” someone else said.

“Kitler?” Jerry asked.

“A cat with a mustache. Kitler cats are crazy. My mother used to have a kitler and it shredded her furniture.”

Everybody had to get in on the conversation.

“I saw a kitler jump on a dog’s back and ride it like a monkey on a bicycle.”

“My aunt had a kitler, and it stole her baby’s breath,” a woman contributed. “Kid almost died.”

Oh, the garbage people believed. But Max couldn’t deny that many cats were a little high-strung. Truth be told, Max came from a family of weirdasses. When Max was still on the teat, someone told him he was a descendent of Cleopatra’s favorite cat. He didn’t know if it was true. Most of the cats he’d run into claimed the same heritage. Regardless, he and his two surviving littermates were a bit unusual. His sister, a psychic, was living somewhere in Wisconsin, and his brother…well, Max had lost touch with him a long time ago. He’d once told Max that he could read minds, and Max believed it. All things considered, Max was the slacker of the bunch with no real talent.

Before Max knew what was happening, before he could run, Jerry scooped him up and held him against the rough fabric of his baggy coat. “Egyptians worshipped cats.” He looked into Max’s eyes. “Maybe I’ll worship you.”

Okay, this was getting too weird, and Max regretted the time he’d wasted on Jerry.

Max squirmed away, his feet hitting the ground with a thud. He was feeling uncomfortable with all of the attention, when the green door opened. The crowd let out a sound of approval, and people surged forward, cat forgotten.

Max stepped lightly inside the doorway, moving to the left in order to hide behind some stacked boxes. He watched Jerry make his way to a counter where a man with rolled-up sleeves and a white apron smiled and handed out steaming bowls that smelled like chicken. Max licked his lips and felt his stomach growl. If he’d been home, he would have noshed down several small meals by now.

He focused on the man behind the counter. Not as hairy as Jerry. Not as sad. And he was handing out bowls of food. What could be better? Jerry suddenly dropped completely off Max’s radar. This new guy had food. Lots of food.

Food hadn’t even been on his list, and now Max could see the error of his novice, matchmaking ways. And Jerry-well, he’d felt uneasy about Jerry from the beginning, which was days ago in cat time. Food should have been a priority. If this man could feed all of these people, he could easily feed Max and Melody.