Lilian Jackson Braun - Cat 18 Who Said Cheese

"That's right! You're a baseball fan! I clip and save all your columns on baseball - for old time's sake. My father never missed a World Series, and he started taking me along when I was seven. My mother didn't care for spectator sports, so he and I flew allover the country, and I learned to keep a detailed scorecard and figure batting averages. I believe it gave me a knack for math and a taste for minutiae."

Qwilleran glanced at her with admiration. "Minutiae" was a word he had never heard on a blind date. He said, "Do you remember the historic game in 1969 when the Mets took the series from the Orioles?"

"I do! I do! In 1968 the Mets had ended in ninth place, and since Father and I always rooted for the underdog, we were strong Met supporters. When they won - after that last exciting game - I remember the Met fans running out on the field and digging up the grass.... Do you have any particular ball club allegiances, Mr. Q?... I mean, Qwill?"

"Well, I was a Chicago Cubs fan before I could walk, but I seldom see a big league game these days. Do you still follow the sport?"

"No," she said sadly. "Not since Father died. It was baseball that killed him. The 1975 Series between Cincinnati and Boston was unbearably suspenseful. It ran seven games. There were delays because of rain. Scores teetered back and forth. Incredible performances! Surprises and twists of fate! It was too exciting for Father. He had a heart attack." She sighed, and Qwilleran mumbled consolations.

When the two baseball fans arrived at the Old Stone Mill, they were shown to the best table - one with a bouquet of fresh flowers - and there was applause from other diners; everyone in Pickax knew about the $1,500 dinner date. Sarah blushed, and Qwilleran bowed to the smiling faces at other tables.

The waiter served them one dry vermouth and one Squunk water, and Sarah said, "When you write about Koko and Yum Yum in your column, Qwill, you show a wonderful understanding of cats. Have you always been a cat fancier?"

"No, I was quite ignorant of feline culture when I adopted them, but they soon taught me everything I needed to know. Now I'd find it difficult to live without them. What attracts me is their secret energy. It makes a cat a forceful presence at all times."

He was interrupted by the forceful presence of Derek Cuttlebrink, presenting the menus and reciting the specials: "Chicken breast in curried sauce with stir-fried veggies... roast rack of lamb with green peppercorn sauce... and shrimp in a saffron cream with sun-dried tomatoes and basil, served on spinach fettucine."

Sarah said, "I developed a taste for curry when we traveled in India, so that would be my immediate choice."

Derek asked Qwilleran, "You want a sixteen-ounce steak and a doggie bag?"

"You don't happen to have any turkey, do you?"

"Come back on Thankgiving day. The soup du jour is oxtail."

"I had oxtail for lunch at the Spoonery. Who stole the recipe from whom?"

"You wanna know the truth," Derek confided, "our chef got the recipe from Joy of Cooking."

When the waiter had left the table, Sarah said, "He's rather outspoken, isn't he? But he's refreshing."

Qwilleran agreed. "He gets away with it because he's six-feet-eight. If he were five-feet-six, he'd be fired...

Now, where were we? Speaking of cats, I assume you like animals."

"Very much. I volunteer my services at the animal shelter every Saturday."

"What do you do?"

"I wash dogs."

"Small ones, I hope," Qwilleran said. "All sizes. Every dog gets a bath when he arrives at the shelter, and not one has ever given me any trouble. They seem to know we're doing something nice for them. Last Saturday I bathed a Great Dane. He jumped right into the tub. I put cotton in his ears and salve in his eyes, then wetted him down with the hose, applied shampoo, talked to him, hosed him off, and dried him. He loved it!"

"Apparently you're accustomed to dogs."

"Yes, we always had them at home. Now all I have is Sir Cedric. When I go home at the end of the day, he greets me, and we have some conversation, rather one-sided, I'm afraid... I wouldn't tell this to anyone else, Qwill."

"I understand exactly how you feel," he said with sincerity.

When the entr‚es were served, he took a deep breath and asked, "Didn't you have a display of buttons at the library a while ago?"

"You remembered! How nice!" she exclaimed.

"How, why, and when did you start collecting?"

"My father had a valuable collection of historic military buttons, and when we went to large cities for ballgames, he would search for Civil War buttons in the antique shops, and I would look for pretty glass ones. Now I have over a thousand - all kinds. My miniature paintings on porcelain are small works of art that I can hold in my hand. I also specialize in animal designs on ivory, silver, brass, copper, and even Wedgwood. I have a shell cameo of a dog's head carved from the Cassis Tuberca from the West Indies. You may remember it in my exhibit."

"Yes," he murmured vaguely.