Cat In A Leopard Spot

“Unnecessary,” Temple said. “You will see from the videotape that Midnight Louie’s handsome coat of hair hides any presumed flaws.”

The judge was uninterested in Temple’s testimony. She was more interested in Dr. Mendel’s.

“So you did not remove anything from the cat?”

“I merely snipped segments from his vas deferens and siphoned some ugly excess fat from the abdominal area. The incisions were so tiny they didn’t require stitches.”

“Impressive. I think you may have happened on a profitable two-fer for your human clients. I know more than a few gentlemen who would like to get fixed and lipo-ed at the same time. Why did you bother with the tummy tuck? That wasn’t in Miss Ashleigh’s instructions.”

He shrugged. “I am a plastic surgeon, a perfectionist by nature. If I see something ungainly that’s easy to fix, I do it.”

Louie growled again and showed his fangs at Dr. Mendel’s hand. The surgeon quickly moved both hands back to his pockets, out of Louie’s snapping range.

“Some would say that Dr. Mendel, and Miss Ashleigh, had done you and Louie a favor, Miss Barr.”

“Louie is a television star, Your Honor. Who is to say his breeding potential is not valuable? Not only that, the pain and suffering I underwent when he was missing, and then returned in such a savage manner, in a drugged and altered condition—”

“Pain and suffering are not awardable conditions, Miss Barr.” The judge turned to Savannah. “All right. What’s your defense? It appears you had no evidence but prejudice and contact to blame your cat’s pregnancy on Midnight Louie. It also looks like you abducted the wrong Romeo. This Maurice fellow seems the far more likely suspect for Yvette’s delicate condition.”

“Well, later on, Your Honor, it did. But at the time…besides, I know my Yvette would never participate willingly in such an event.”

“Wait a minute. We are talking cats here. Female cats who are not neutered—and the evidence is clear that Yvette was not and still is not neutered—do go into heat, don’t they? You do know what heat is, don’t you, Miss Ashleigh? Haven’t you portrayed a human variation of that condition on film often enough?”

“Your Honor has seen my films?”

“Seen them? I’ve had them presented in evidence.”

“Surely not as evidence of violating the ratings system? They are clearly marked ‘R.’”

“No, Miss Ashleigh, I’ve seen them as evidence of fraudulent filmmaking. Some investors said the films were made with no intentions of being distributed, but merely to divest them of their money. But that was a while back, when I was a Hollywood judge, not a TV judge. Luckily”—the judge showed clean white teeth but did not smile—“I am not hearing that kind of case anymore.”

Temple was trying to keep herself from jiggling up and down in triumph, even though it wouldn’t have the gelatinous effect of Savannah Ashleigh’s jiggles. Things didn’t sound good for the Tinseltown floozy.

Judge Jones swept all the papers and Temple’s videotape into a pile. “I’ll adjourn to view all the evidence and then return with the verdict. “Ladies. Control your…cats.”

The admonition was well deserved. Both Louie and Yvette, unobserved by their distracted human chaperons, had each come to their separate table edges and now leaned over the brink of space that kept them apart, sniffing futilely at the unkindly air that separated them.

“Get back in your carrier, you sssshaded ssssilver sssslut!” Savannah hissed. “Issssn’t one mongrel litter enough?”

“He’s fixxxxxed, thankssss to you,” Temple hissed back. “And poor Yvette isssss only a victim in all thissss. She would have never chossssen Maurissse over Louie.”

The kindly silver-haired bailiff stepped into the space between the cats.

“Ladiesssss, pleasssse,” he hissed so that the microphones wouldn’t pick up the catfight.

They each grabbed a peacefully purring cat and moved them back to the center of their tables, as if separating enemies.

The judge’s “few moments” for the viewing audience was twenty foot-tapping, nail-nibbling, cat-herding minutes for the combatants.

The biggest problem, Temple found, was trying to keep the two cats apart. Louie and Yvette, that is.

Chapter 16

Hissy Fit

What an exercise in frustration.

Not allowed to testify on our own behalves.

Treated like nonpersons—okay, this is not new.

And kept apart like rabid monkeys.

I do not think much of human justice!

So I decide to take matters into my own mitts.

While Miss Savannah Ashleigh is busy inventing stage business for the camera, huffing and puffing and tapping her tiny toe and pushing her fat hair off her shoulders, she has neglected to fully zip shut the Divine Yvette’s carrier.

I glance at my Miss Temple. She is fussing over her various papers, no doubt looking for the key piece of evidence she forgot to give the judge. She obviously is counting on me to be the little gentleman I have been for the past hour or so.