Cat Trick

I waited for Owen to reappear. He didn’t. Was he trying to see if I was bluffing? Maybe I’d used Boris as a negotiating tool one time too many. Maybe I was giving the cat way too much credit. Maybe he hadn’t understood a word I’d said. I was on the fence about how well Owen, and his brother, Hercules, could follow a conversation. On the other hand . . . I leaned along the seat again, opened the glove compartment and pulled out a small, plastic Ziploc bag about half-full of my homemade sardine-and-cheese cat treats. “I’ll keep them with me so I don’t forget to stop at Harry’s,” I said.

That did it. Owen yowled his objections. Maybe he did understand what I was saying. Silently, I counted to three and he appeared on the seat again.

I held up the bag. “You can have the whole bag if you stay here.”

He glared at me, eyes narrowed.

“Your choice,” I said.

I had started to back out of the truck when Marcus spoke behind me. “Did you find it?” He was wearing his usual citrus-scented aftershave—much nicer than Owen’s sardine breath.

I shot the cat a look and made a small motion with one hand, both of which meant “Disappear, now.”

One thing all cats know—whether or not they have superpowers—is when they have the upper hand. Owen sat up straighter, looked around me and gave a pitiful meow.

“Kathleen, is that Owen?” Marcus asked.

I sucked in a deep breath, blew it out slowly and twisted to look at him over my shoulder. “I guess he hid in the truck,” I said. “He does that sometimes. I was just going to give him a few crackers, and then hopefully he’ll take a nap.” I turned back to look at the cat. He’d closed his eyes and hung his head. His shoulders were slumped. If they gave Academy Awards for cat acting, Owen would win. He looked pathetic.

“You can’t leave him out here,” Marcus said. “Bring him inside.”

I could see the gleam of one golden eye as Owen watched to see what I’d do. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I started.

“He can’t hurt anything in the house.”

I gave Marcus a half smile because I already knew I’d lost. I’d been bested by a small gray cat. And not for the first time.

Marcus put a hand on my back and leaned around me. “Do you want to come inside?” he asked.

Owen looked up all long-faced and meowed softly again.

“See?” Marcus said. “He doesn’t want to stay out here by himself.”

I reached over and picked up the little tabby, who immediately nuzzled my neck, a self-satisfied gleam in his eye.

I followed Marcus back around the side of the house. Watching his long legs move made up—a little—for the fact that I was now going to be sharing the rest of my visit with a devious, sardine-loving cat. “This is not over,” I hissed at Owen as we stepped into the kitchen.

“It’s okay,” Marcus said. “You can put him down. I’m serious. He can’t hurt anything in this house.”

“You have no idea what he could do if he set his mind to it,” I warned. I set the cat on the floor and whispered, “Behave yourself,” in his ear, not that I really thought the warning would do any good.

Owen made a show of looking around as though he hadn’t been in the room a few minutes earlier.

“You want some sardines?” Marcus asked the cat, who licked his whiskers again at the word “sardines.”

I sat back down at the table. Marcus gave me a small plate with more crackers and some sliced mozzarella.

Owen waited patiently while Marcus got a bowl of the little fish ready and set it on the floor. He was careful not to touch the cat. Owen and Hercules had been feral kittens when I’d found them over a year and a half ago at Wisteria Hill, the abandoned Henderson estate. I’d come to town to be the new head librarian at the Mayville Heights Free Public Library and supervise its renovation. The cats happily draped themselves all over me, but it was hands-off with almost everyone else. Just last winter Owen had had a run-in with a police officer who had tried to pick him up. It hadn’t gone well—for the officer. Luckily Marcus had been there to rescue the cat.

Owen did his suspicious sniffing routine; then he picked up a chunk of one sardine, set it on the floor and started eating.

“Does he do that with everything?” Marcus asked, dropping into the chair opposite me.