Cat Trick

Maggie arrived about quarter after six. Owen was waiting for her by the back door.

“Hey, Fuzz Face,” she said, bending down to smile at him. As usual, he got all twitchy and started to purr. “Mmmm, something smells good,” she continued, stepping into the kitchen with the cat three steps behind her. “Is it that beef dish you made before with onions and mushrooms and tomato sauce?”

I nodded. “It is.”

She looked down at Owen. “This is going to be good.” Then she looked at me. “What can I do?”

Just then Roma knocked on the back door.

“You could put the knives and forks on the table,” I said as I went out into the porch to let her in.

Roma was carrying a string grocery bag and a bottle of wine. “This is Ruby’s latest vintage,” she said. “I’m driving and I see Maggie is, but I thought you could save this to enjoy with . . . someone else.”

I took the bottle and mock-glared at her. I knew she meant Marcus. Then again, maybe I could share the bottle with him as a peace offering.

I hung up Roma’s coat while she said hello to Maggie. I knew it was only a matter of time before she outed me on kissing Marcus. For a moment I considered turning around, flinging out my arms and announcing it, but that seemed a tad melodramatic.

When I did turn around, Hercules was sitting in front of Roma. She opened the top of the string bag. “Hello, Hercules,” she said. “I need your opinion on these cat food samples.”

“I think the word you’re looking for is ‘bribe,’ not ‘samples,’” Maggie said. She looked down at Owen and raised her eyebrows conspiratorially. She’d pulled out a chair and was sitting, one leg tucked underneath her, not unlike the way Owen was sitting on the floor beside her, his tail curled around his feet. He was sneaking little looks in Roma’s direction, I noticed.

Roma pulled a cardboard box stamped with paw prints out of the string bag and opened the top flap. “This isn’t a bribe,” she said to Maggie. “I need an honest opinion. Another vet I know is developing a line of all-natural, organic cat food. It’s not as though I can try it and decide if it’s any good.”

Maggie leaned forward, snatched a piece of star-shaped kibble out of the box and popped it in her mouth before Roma could react.

She chewed and then wrinkled her nose. “Needs salt,” she said.

Hercules’s head swiveled from Roma to Maggie and back again. Roma shook her head with a wry smile. “Maggie Adams, I can’t believe you just ate cat food,” she said.

Mags pointed at the box. “It’s not like the stuff is made of bug parts,” she said. “Which wouldn’t be so bad because I have eaten a bug once.”

Owen gave her a look of pure, unadulterated adoration. I had no idea how much of the sentence he understood, but he definitely knew the word “bug.”

Hercules, who also knew the word, dropped his eyes. I think he would have blushed if he could have. Hercules had eaten a bug once too—a very hairy caterpillar. It hadn’t exactly lain well on his stomach.

The light on the slow cooker went from red to amber as the heat went from “cook” to “warm.” I grabbed a spoon and lifted the lid for a taste. It was Lise’s recipe, and as usual, it tasted as good as it smelled. The sauce was perfect. I didn’t even need to adjust the seasonings.

“Roma, it’s in her hand,” I said, turning on the oven light so I could peek in to see if the roasted potatoes looked done. They did.

“What’s in her hand?” Roma asked, frowning. Hercules was frowning too and sniffing in Maggie’s direction. Unlike Roma, he knew what I meant.

“The cat kibble thing.”

Maggie laughed and looked at me. “How did you know?”

I gave my best impersonation of Mr. Spock from Star Trek, complete with one raised eyebrow. “No crunching,” I said. “You did a very good fake chew, but I didn’t actually hear you eating.”

She looked down at Owen and nodded. “We have to remember that for next time,” she said. She turned her gaze to Roma again. “And why is it okay for you to bring them treats, but you give me a hard time when I do it?”

Roma folded her arms over her chest. “Eric’s sausage-filled panzerotti are not a suitable treat for cats.”

With exquisite timing, Owen yowled his objections. Even Roma laughed. Then she shook a few of the star-shaped bits of cat kibble onto the floor near the cats’ food dishes and took a couple of steps back. Hercules gave her a long, thoughtful look. Then he went over to the pile and sniffed. “Salmon,” Roma said helpfully.