THE CAT WHO SAW STARS_

“Barb assured me she’ll finish it on time,” Elizabeth said. “And thank you, Qwill, for sending me that delightful Dr. Bunker. She loved everything in my shop and bought several things: goofy socks for her cousin and her cat-sitter, skewers for herself, and a Thai caftan for her grandmother in Horseradish, who’s celebrating her hundredth birthday.”

“Did she talk about crows?”

“Enthusiastically! We discussed the possibilities for crow-oriented souvenirs. I said I would relax my rule against Tshirts and would be willing to sell one like hers if the proceeds went to scientific research.”

“Good for you!”

“Come and see a new item that a friend of yours brought in - Janelle Van Roop.”

“Oh?” What else could he say?

In the craft section there was a display of small stuffed creatures called Kalico Kittens and made of rosebud-patterned cotton. Eight inches long including tail, they were primitive but appealing, having splayed legs, a spike of a tail, and oversized ears. Eyes, whiskers, and tiny mouth were embroidered, not too carefully.

Elizabeth said, “Their lopsided features make them amusing and rather lovable, don’t you think? Dr. Bunker called them contemporary folk art and bought several for gifts.”

“Who makes them?”

“The elderly ladies at Safe Harbor. I’m handling them without commission. It was my idea to give each kitten a name - nothing cute or faddy but traditional and dignified - like Clarence, Martha, Spencer, Agatha, and so on. Why don’t you buy one for the cats?”

He knew they would be quickly vetoed by the Siamese, who ignored velvet mice, rubber frogs, and tinkling plastic balls. They preferred a necktie with a man on the other end… “Okay,” he said, “I’ll take this one. Gertrude.”

Tess would be returning to the cabin to prepare dinner - she knew where to find the key - and Qwilleran intended to stay out of sight lest he be asked to peel potatoes. He sat on the hotel veranda to read Friday’s paper and consider the crow scenario. He was definitely cooling off. The question was: How to break the news to Tess? She was a nice woman - the cousin of a good friend. If he reneged, it should be done with grace: a few ideas, a little advice, a lot of encouragement.

He would conclude the matter after the play. Then she could leave after breakfast, and he could return to Pickax after the dogcart races.

All went well that evening: Qwilleran thought the lamb shank superb; Tess loved the play. Afterward, he served sangria on the lake porch and said, “Tess, your visit has been memorable! I only wish I could work on your project. Unfortunately, I have other commitments. But I can visualize the possibilities - and the problems - and the decisions to be made.”

“I understand,” she said, with less disappointment than he had anticipated. “What kind of decisions do you mean?”

“In regard to the plot: Who or what will provide the conflict? Other species of birds? Other wildlife? Humans? Mechanical equipment? Scarecrows? … First of all, will it be an all-bird cast? I would think not. Crows seem to hang around cow pastures; do they have any relationships with cattle other than scatological? Who are the crows’ friends, and who are their foes?”

Tess asked, “What about dialogue? How “anthropomorphic do we want to get?”

“Well… you might have all the animals in the cast speak in their own voices - with a human voice - over translating their caws and clucks and woofs.”

“What language do you suppose scarecrows, speak?”

Qwilleran said, “That’s one for the language department at your university.” He smoothed his moustache as an idea began to form. “The scarecrow’s job is to protect the crops from the crows - right? Suppose he makes friends with the crows and starts an underground movement in their behalf. His collaboration is discovered, and he’s condemned to death. If he’s made a sympathetic character, this could be a highly emotional situation.”

Tess said, “I’m getting the weeps already.”

They discussed names for the characters. The breeding pair could be Queen Croquette and her consort Prince Chromosome.

“I love it! I love it!” she cried.

“May I refresh your drink, Tess?”

It was a happy corvidologist who took the electric lantern and found her way to the Snuggery. Before saying goodnight, she said, “Do you realize you have thimbleberries behind the tool shed? I could pick some and make thimbleberry pancakes, for breakfast.”

“Splendid idea!” Qwilleran said. “And Grott’s Grocery had some beautiful rib-eye steaks. I bought two, thinking we could have steak au poivre tomorrow night - with skewered potatoes.” Before Qwilleran could react, she said, “Do you realize one of the skewers is missing? There were five.”

-15-