Lilian Jackson Braun - Cat 12 Who Knew A Cardinal

Another woman visitor arrived in the afternoon while he was regaling the Siamese with the devious exploits of Sir Edmund Backhouse. Lulled by his mellifluous voice, they were lounging dreamily in relaxed postures when a sound inaudible to human ears suddenly alerted them. Ears perked, heads lifted, necks craned, bodies raised on forelegs, hindquarters prepared to spring, they raced to the front door as if to greet a shipment of fresh lobster. Moments later, Qwilleran heard what they heard: the rumble of a car that had not recently had a tune-up.

It was Lori Bamba's vintage vehicle - Lori, his part-time secretary and adviser on all matters pertaining to cats. She had long golden hair, which she braided and tied with ribbons, and these tempting appendages held a hypnotic fascination for the Siamese, who greeted her with enthusiastic prowling and ankle rubbing.

"A pleasant surprise, Lori," said Qwilleran as he admitted her to the barn. Her husband usually delivered her finished work and picked up the week's correspondence.

"Nick told me what miracles you've done with the barn, I had to come and see for myself. I'll bet the cats love those ramps and balconies."

"May I show you around? The five- dollar tour on Saturday limits visitors to the main floor; as an intimate of Koko and Yum Yum you're entitled to go up on the catwalks and visit their loft."

"First let me give you your correspondence. There are forty-seven letters for you to sign. On the less personal ones, I forged your signature. The crank letters were chucked into the wastebasket."

Qwilleran and Lori walked up the ramps, followed by e Siamese with erect tails, then down again. As soon as she sat down, both cats piled into her lap.

Qwilleran said, "I wish I could get Yum Yum to walk on a leash. With Koko it's no problem; he walks me on a leash."

"Just let her wear her harness around the house until she gets used to the feel of it," she suggested. "And do you realize, Qwill, that you have a perfect setup here for blowing bubbles?"

"Bubbles?" he asked dubiously.

"Soap bubbles. Stand on the balcony and let them float own to the cats below. They'll have a wonderful time - jumping and trying to catch them."

"Hmmm," he said, stroking his moustache. He could imagine the town gossips peeking in the window and carrying the news back to the coffee shops: "Mr. Q has started blowing bubbles!"

"The best thing for blowing bubbles," Lori advised, "is the old-fashioned clay pipe. They have them at the hardware store in Wildcat."

At that moment Koko leaped from her lap and bounded to the window, and they all heard the clear-toned who-it? who-it? who-it?

"That's a cardinal," Lori said. "He's Koko's buddy."

"They're a couple of aristocrats," she said.

"Yes, they act like two potentates at a summit meeting. The orchard is full of other species, but somehow Koko is attracted to the cardinal. I don't know whether he appreciates the bird's regal demeanor or just likes red."

"I've read conflicting opinions about a cat's ability to see color. I'm inclined to believe they feel color. They get different sensations from different hues."

"I'll buy that," he said. "Koko is equipped with a lot more senses than the basic five. He's an especially gifted animal."

Lori said, "Let me tell you something interesting. I have an elderly aunt who lost her sight totally a few years ago, but she still recognizes red. She claims she can feel it! And she likes to wear red. She says it restores her energy."

"I'd like to meet her. It would make an interesting topic for my column... Would you like a glass of cider, Lori?"

"No, thanks, Qwill. Just give me the week's mail. I've got to dash. I've got a baby-sitter."

Later, he was signing the forty-seven letters when a black van with gold lettering on the panels pulled into the barnyard, and a young blond giant leaped out. He opened the rear doors and hoisted to his shoulders - with apparent ease - a large paper-wrapped cylinder, eight feet in length and about a yard in diameter. Fran Brodie was with him, and she directed him to the back door.

This is Shawn, our world-class installer," she said to Qwilleran.

"Hi!" said the giant with an amiable smile.

She guided him through the kitchen to the great hall, four stories high, and told him to put the tapestry on the floor at the foot of the ramp. Going down on one knee, like Atlas with the world on his shoulders, Shawn dropped the cylinder on the floor with a thud. Then he stood up and gazed at the balconies, the triangular windows, and fireplace cube with its three stacks.

"How much did this job cost?" he said in awe. "It's sure ferent!... Is this where the guy hung himself?"

"Shawn!" Fran said sharply. "Bring in the toolbox, the tack-strips, and the rope." To Qwilleran she said, "I want unroll the tapestries down here for inspection. This is the moment of truth!"

The wrapping was carefully removed, and the eight-by-ten-foot wall hanging was spread out on the floor.

"Beautiful!" said Qwilleran.

"Gorgeous!" Fran said.