Cat Red-Handed Read online

  Fat Bobby stared at me for a long time, the milky coating on his lousy eye seeming to evaluate me with the same fervor as his good one.

  “Fine,” he said at last, turning away to look along the row of shops on the main street—the cafe, the barber, the pizza parlor, and the ice-creamery. “I’ll give you what you need, but you’ll have to satisfy me first. How many cans you got?”

  I quickly thought of how many I could easily carry and subtracted two for negotiating room. “Three.”

  “Six.”

  “Four.”

  “Five. Or you can seek your answers someplace else.” Fat Bobby turned back to me with a grin, then. He knew very well that there was nowhere else in town for me to go. Only one cat kept an eye on everything. The rest spent too much time with their eyes peeled for the council worker to pay enough attention.

  “Five it is. Give me an hour. The can’s are a bit hard to wrangle.”

  “Take all the time you need, Wilber. I’ll be waiting right here.”

  The automatic retort to his jibe about my name sprang to my mouth, but I swallowed it back down. There’d be time enough to debate who was called what when I had the energy. Until my food bowl emergency was sorted, though, everything else had to take a back seat.

  Even my pride.

  It didn’t take nearly so long to fetch the remaining cans as I’d spent with the first one. My technique with the plastic bags was now down to a fine art, and Beamer hadn’t shown his face again.

  Apart from a few hitches as I got used to the increased weight and the drag that caused with the dips and rises of the sidewalk, I got the bag to Fat Bobby intact.

  “Here you go. Five cans.”

  He nosed and pawed at the contents for so long that I thought he was reneging. That fear came out of nowhere and raged through me, setting every hair on edge.

  Bobby noticed. “No need to get all fluffy, Wilber. I’m just checking that everything is as we agreed.”

  He patted the top of the bag back down over the cans, greed walking openly across his face. “Your delivery van is…”

  I didn’t know whether the pause was for dramatic effect or I was about to be very disappointed. Please the former, please be the former. If I’d had fingers, I would have crossed them so hard.

  “How do I get these things open?”

  The question caught me off guard. My mouth fell open, hoping that words would fill it while my brain danced away leaving my mind blank.

  “Can opener?” The words came out of me as a feeble question. If Fat Bobby had been waiting to sense weakness, here it was on full display.

  “Do I look like I have a can opener?” he growled, lowering his body as he stalked two steps toward me. “Does Fat Bobby seem like the kind of cat who has appliances stuck up his wazoo?”

  The smirk his words provoked, probably wasn’t the best response I could have come up with.

  As his face turned to thunder, I backed off a step, the spike of adrenaline through my system forcing my brain to rejoin the party.

  “We could throw it against something hard,” I said, my words tumbling over each other in their eagerness to appease and avert a catastrophe. “If we can get enough force, then it’ll burst the cans open, and you can eat them, just fine.”

  Fat Bobby sat down, staring at the cans as though they’d challenged him to a fight. “Okay. How do we do that? Roll them?”

  I started to scoff at the idea, then backtracked. Actually, that wasn’t a bad idea. However…

  “If I help you get these cans open then I want an assurance that you’ll tell me what I need to know. I’ve already fulfilled my part of the agreement to the letter. If I help you even further, then I can’t have you backtracking.”

  “Fine.” Fat Bobby sat back and glared at me again. “The delivery van comes from Christchurch, and that’s where it heads back to at the end of every run.”

  A smile lit Bobby’s face up as my mouth dropped open.

  “Yep. It’s a ninety-minute drive, so I’d guess it’ll take you—oh, I don’t know—three or four days to walk it. Better tell your owner that you’ll be gone a long time, Wilber.”

  As the impossibility of the situation fell down around my head, I managed to find the energy to correct him. “My name is Thor!”

  Chapter Three

  I wasn’t a welcher. However bad the information that Fat Bobby had for me, that didn’t mean that I would skip out on what I’d promised.

  Still, this time I made him drag the cans.

  “Halfway up Conical Hill Road should do us just fine.” I skipped ahead, then sat down in a relaxed pose as Fat Bobby fought to close the distance with his heavy burden. “If we aim it at the side of the cycle shop, that should easily pop them open.”

  “What do you got there, kitty?” a voice boomed out from above us. As we both froze, ready to jump away from the danger if need be, an elderly woman with the largest nose I’d ever seen, bent her head down to our level.

  “Have you been naughty kitties?” she said, this time in a sing-song voice. Teasing us, it sounded like. “Have you been shoplifting from the store?”

  I backed off a few steps, but Fat Bobby couldn’t do the same without relinquishing his prize. He didn’t get to be in the toughest gang in town without knowing how to stand his ground.

  “Oh, aren’t you a little fighter,” the woman continued, reaching out a fearless finger to chuck Bobby under the chin. To my complete surprise, he purred.

  The woman laughed and sat down on the footpath beside us. She stroked Fat Bobby until his body began to elongate in ecstasy. His reaction made me feel a bit small. Although I dismissed Fat Bobby as a thug, it must be hard to live without the constant pampering offered up by humans. With a flush of shame, I realized that I should count my lucky stars I sorted out my own home life and give Fat Bobby a break.

  “Now, let's see if we can’t get you a decent meal,” the woman said. She discontinued her affections to lift up the side of the bag.

  Quick as a flash, Fat Bobby’s possessive paw clamped down on it. Instead of purring, his tail started to wag from side to side in anger.

  “Don’t worry, I’m not about to steal anything. I may be on a limited income, but I’m still not reduced to eating cat food just yet.” The woman pushed aside Fat Bobby’s paw as though it didn’t contain the sharpest claws in town.

  While both Bobby and I looked on in trepidation, the lady picked up one of the cans. She inserted her finger somehow into the top of it, lifting up a ring that definitely hadn’t been there before. With a sharp jerk, she pulled it back toward her, then rotated the can and tugged away the entire lid.

  “There you go,” she said, popping the can down in front of Fat Bobby. He nosed at the food for a second, checked around him to see nobody was looking at him being fed by a human and then scoffed down the contents in three seconds flat.

  “My, you are a hungry boy,” the woman said, stroking his back again. “None for your little friend?”

  I backed up another step, shaking my head, a gesture that made her laugh. “It’s almost like you can understand me.”

  As Bobby nuzzled closer, switching between batting the top of his head against her hand and laying a paw on another full can, the woman nodded. “Okay. One more. But you shouldn’t eat them all at once, it’ll just give you a stomach ache.”

  Considering their toxic contents and the effect they’d had on me, that came as no surprise.

  “Another one,” she said, performing the same miracle again. This time, Fat Bobby took his time with the food, actually stopping to chew all the huge chunks.

  “How about, I take the lids off the rest, but you save them for later?” The woman appeared to be asking her own advice because when Bobby immediately told her that he’d eat when he felt like it and no one could dictate any different, she continued with her plan.

  Once all the cans were opened, the lids pressed back down so that the contents wouldn’t spill, the elderly lady groaned her way
into a standing position again.

  “I wish I could take you home,” she said in a wistful voice. “I’m sure my granddaughter would really enjoy you.”

  Based on the expression of longing that crossed Bobby’s face as he watched her walk away, it seemed that the feeling might be reciprocated.

  My job with Fat Bobby completed, even without my anticipated level of input, I sloped off toward home, my dejection making the journey last twice as long as it should.

  Even if I’d been well-fed for the past couple of days, I couldn’t fool myself that I had the energy to walk all the way to another city. Plus, my sense of direction was average, maybe even a bit less if forced to be honest. Knowing my luck, I’d end up walking for five days only to arrive back here in town.

  Beamer was back in his yard, the yapping that he offered up punctuation to my suffering. I would never eat again. The swill in those cans may be suitable for Fat Bobby, but I couldn’t stomach it. Better get a good view of everything because this might be your last chance.

  I don’t know where the next thought came from. It sounded so alien when it spoke that I was confident it didn’t originate within my own head. Yet, that was where it chose to voice itself, and I grabbed hold of the idea it spoke with all paws.

  The bus station.

  Sure, the place would be full of humans, and the council workers probably trawled through there regularly, looking for cat prey. Still…

  Yes. The idea had a lot of merit. I could be sneaky when I needed to. I put my stealthiness up against the best of them. What I lacked in the sense of direction, I made up for in subtlety.

  All I needed to do was stow away on a bus headed for the big city, and my plan would be half done.

  The bus station wasn’t far from the center of town. Well, obviously, considering that my town was so small that everything was always near. Even I found it easy to cross from one side to the other, and my legs were a lot shorter than some creatures.

  I left Fat Bobby feeling fabulous and full and turned down the alleyway that led behind the central row of shops. No use strolling up the central sidewalk, clear as day, when I was planning on sneaking on board. Rule number one for advance planning of stealth. Stay out of sight from start to finish.

  The noise of people gathering in the outside depot made me think that a bus departure was imminent. I couldn’t see the metal beast in question but the pokes of people, in twos or threes, chattering with the peculiar awkwardness that only a farewell can bring, made me sure it was on its way.

  I hung around the side of the building closest, tucked in behind a small pile of cardboard boxes that had been left outside as rubbish but miraculously had transformed into trash receptacles.

  I immediately dismissed the closest group of humans to me. Young, the only luggage they had with them was flung across their backs. The bright colors and glitter made me think that they weren’t serious about traveling. The bags probably just held snacks for the journey. If that were so, I’d be discovered early in the trip.

  Next along was an elderly couple. The two stood in companionable silence, eyes taking in their surrounds with the peaceful acceptance of old age. They’d be a lovely pair to hitch a lift with, but the large suitcase at their feet would be going straight into the belly of the bus.

  No, thanks.

  Traveling in the stomach of the beast might be a great way to make the journey undetected but I didn’t think I’d last five seconds before claustrophobia and errant thoughts drove me insane.

  Pity. I bet if I spent the journey on the old woman’s lap, she’d feed me little tidbits to keep me occupied. I don’t know if it was her aura or my own stereotyping, but I felt sure that was her nature.

  Onwards, ho.

  The next group was teenage girls. Just, no. They were dressed all in black as though trying to disguise themselves as night. The makeup they worse looked more like bruises than an attempt to brighten their already pretty features.

  Standing near the teens was a woman who appeared very harried, being pulled this way and that by two children. I was about to dismiss her as a possibility when an out of breath man arrived at her side. After a perfunctory kiss on the cheek, he grabbed hold of one child and mounted a chase for the other. The large carpet bag at her feet looked both roomy and comfortable. It also seemed clear that she meant to take it with her on board.

  Considering I was running out of options, I made my decision and ran for it. While the woman’s gaze followed her husband, giggling as their sprightly daughter dashed away from his grip, I pulled at the side of the large, wooden handle and jumped inside the bag.

  Before I could tug the side back into place, hiding me away, she reached down and grabbed the handles together. Lucky she hadn’t been looking down at that exact moment, or she would have stared straight into my alarmed face.

  A second later, I understood the reason. With a hiss of hydraulics, the bus arrived, parking close by on the roadside.

  My view from inside the bag was limited. At first, I stumbled and scrabbled for a hold, being lurched from side to side. Soon, the lady had mounted the bus steps and taken a seat. The bag and I were placed on the floor.

  Phew. I pushed aside a few soft balls of wool and narrowly avoided the business end of a crochet hook as I curled myself into a tight, wee ball. This would do very nicely. I must admit, I was pleased with myself as I listened to the rest of the passengers embarking.

  The engine hummed into life, though the bus continued to sit precisely where it was for another ten minutes. A jolt of impatience ran through me. As it was, I’d expect the journey to take a few hours there, and then I needed to sort out whatever was happening with the delivery driver to stop him providing Old Man Jack’s store with my preferred meal-time choices. Then, I’d still face another couple of hours to get back home.

  I started to face the genuine possibility that I might not make it before my human arrived home. The poor man would be quite distraught. It’s a terrible thing to lose a pet as precious as me.

  Even if it was only overnight.

  Still, that couldn’t be helped. It would be a pity if I faded away to a sliver of a cat before my human’s eyes, finding nothing good to eat in my bowl.

  Even though I’d had quite enough adventure yesterday to last me, here I was again. There was another puzzle to solve, and unless I figured it out, it would remain neglected.

  The bus lurched forward, the engine growing from a hum into a growl of kinetic motion. That was more like it.

  Christchurch city, here I come.

  Between the soft comfort of the wool and the rocking of the bus, I soon dropped into a nap. In my dream, my bowl overflowed with my favorite food and the pantry was lined, floor to ceiling, with the cans.

  I woke with a start when the bag shifted. A hand reached inside, seeming as surprised to find me there as I was to feel it sweep past my back. Before I could attempt to mount an escape, a firm hand grabbed me by the scruff of the neck and pulled me out into full daylight.

  Chapter Four

  The woman and I stared at each other, both aghast. While I struggled to free myself from her grasp, she turned and glanced around the bus. No one appeared to be paying us any attention.

  I gave up my feeble scrabbling for freedom. The woman put a finger up to her mouth, then leaned over to pick up her bag. She placed it on the empty seat next to her and put me gently back inside.

  “You’re sitting on my crochet,” she whispered to me.

  I purred back in agreement that I was, then added that it was lovely and warm. The woman didn’t seem to understand, so I stood up and padded at the wool with my paws.

  She laughed and picked me up around the middle again. “If you keep doing that it’ll turn to felt!”

  Although a ball of felt sounded heavenly to me, I was wise enough to know from her tone of voice that it wasn’t an outcome that she sought.

  “I might have something for you,” she said, holding me against her chest with one hand whi
le she searched in her bag with the other. “Here we go.”

  She pulled out a small foil packet that I eyed with distrust. That looked exactly like the type of food that they sold at the superette in town. If that was the case—no, thank you. I could have stayed put and done nothing if I was happy with bland.

  Except, when she opened the packet a smell so full of flavor came out that I was immediately salivating. I started to hum with anticipation, and she gave another small laugh.

  “They’re prawn flavored,” she whispered into one of my perfectly formed ears. “You’ll love them.”

  She placed the strange, pink curl near my nose so that I could give it a closer inspective sniff. Mm. Pure intoxication. My ears started to feel warm as my pleasure centers fired off a few rounds. I stuck my tongue out in a test lick, then followed it up by biting down.

  Crunch.

  The world spun into a delight of heady fragrances and flavors that caused my jaw to vibrate with every bite. I caught another one from her hand before the woman had the chance to lift it closer. Oh. Delicious.

  If those were in my food bowl every night, I’d have to check that I hadn’t died and gone straight to heaven.

  “What do you have there?”

  The voice came from across the aisle. A young man was staring intently at the bulge I made in the middle-aged woman’s cardigan. His look of suspicion changed to one of delight as I poked my head out to look around.

  “You brought a cat on the bus?”

  “Shh!” The woman put a finger up to her mouth and shook her head. “I didn’t bring him. He’s a stowaway!”

  The momentary distraction might have been entertaining for a second, but I didn’t want it to distract my new human from her tasty food offering. I pressed my paw against her chest and licked her fingers, earning her attention once more.

  She reached into the bag and passed me another few bites. “You do like these chips, don’t you?”

  “Are cats meant to eat chips?” another voice called out from the seat behind. As the woman explained that she didn’t know, I began to feel a bit uncomfortable. Usually, I have no problem with all eyes being on me, but I was starting to think that it could be a liability.