Coon licked himself cleaner, not quite clean, while he eavesdropped at the local gossip mill, Big Barn. Since there was a fresh death in the cat community, it was not necessary to interrogate. Far better to be sneaky and let his fellow felines bring up Sarah’s situation on their own. It was long work for Coon, mostly boring, and he really needed a drink to help all this dust, dander, and loose fur go down.
Coon caught three mice before deciding he really wasn’t hungry anymore, and it was possible that he didn’t feel well enough to catch another. He was afraid to move too much for fear of ejecting an enormous hairball. Instead, he shot baleful looks at the vermin as they scurried by. He was staying very still on a storage shelf under a staircase, nowhere near patches of light or soft napping places, but very satisfyingly sneaky. He even had a gap in the boards to view felines as he spied.
Now he wondered whether the other cats knew that a spot at the floor under the stairs was the main entrance for mice getting into the barn. Long ago, some human was storing equipment and pierced the wall, leaving a hole the size of a quarter. As a result, mice passed one another, shoulder to shoulder, as if the hole were a revolving door. The local cats weren’t particularly observant, it seemed, and yet he was relying on them for information about Sarah. It had all started to sound the same, more or less like the conversation he was stuck listening to now, so Coon resolved to leave as soon as this conversation ended. If it ever would.
“I feel so sorry for her,” a sleek black female cat tried to persuade her friends. It was clear to Coon that this female felt superior, not sorry.
“She sure is a spicy kitten,” a tom said ruefully. He was orange and muscular. Coon did not want to face off with this big oaf.
“Cha-a-ase,” the black lady-cat said his name as a chastisement.
“Are you saving your nine lives for something else?” a gray tiger-striped female asked.
“I just haven’t decided what to spend them on yet,” Chase defended calmly. “And it sure looks like no one gets away from Sarah unscathed. Every guy involved falls in love with her, and then they die. You’d think she’s possessed by a jealous demon, who wants her all to himself. If I’d never met her, I’d assume she’s a serial killer.”
“Maybe she’s just better at covering it up than the average killer. She can hide in plain sight, because no one suspects her at all.” It was the shiny black female again.
The plain jane tiger rolled on her back joyfully, totally at ease with this turn of conversation and apparently in her belief that she was… well, more captivating than Coon found her to be. She was using her patch of sunshine to loll in the sawdust, really working it into her fur. Coon Dog had just worked so hard to get the dust out of his fur, he couldn’t understand such behavior. She was distasteful to him. Perhaps his judgment was biased by the very clean Sarah, whom he would love to pretend to clean, but only because she was already fastidious. He had resolved sometime after that to make himself more presentable. But he was still surprised how repulsive the kitty rolling in filth now was for him.
Chase spoke up, “There’s no evidence for that, and you’ve met her. She’s just … really unlucky. I intend to stay away from her and her whole family, just in case it’s catching.”
Coon had been about to reveal himself in defense of Sarah, having already decided that he’d heard enough for one day. He couldn’t refute Chase’s feeling, though, so he waited until the trio left. Then he licked his paws, taking special care with his claws, while he sorted out his feelings. Everything he’d heard led him to the conclusion that everyone believed Sarah was a good kitty. Good and unlucky. Cursed, just like Toby had said. Coon was done investigating. And he was feeling somewhat… attached to the unlucky lady-cat. He wanted so much more for her. And he wanted to be with her.
Where was that dog? It was about time for another chat. Coon hunted down the apparition by predatory instinct. Toby had always appeared to Coon out in the open, never inside a building, so Coon would wait outside. He didn’t have to wait long.
“Are you ready to find the catnip seeds?” Toby asked, appearing seated on the grass not far from the barn. Coon had nearly forgotten about the seeds. Wow, he was really distracted by the mystery. Or were his feelings about Sarah the true cause of scatter-brain? He felt like he knew her after all this surveillance and just one encounter. Was he already in love? Coon didn’t want to sort that out.
The seeds were important to his father, and yes, he was ready to find them. In fact, it would be far easier to dry off after the impending swim if the sun was still out. Coon really hated getting wet.
“No point putting it off,” Coon responded, giving nothing away. The dog remained blank-faced. He slowly rose and lumbered off, so Coon followed him. No need for conversation either, Coon Dog mused to himself.
***
The river moved briskly along, and it was wide. Coon Dog wondered whether it had been this intimidating when his father deposited the seeds. “What are the chances that the seeds are still here?” Coon asked Toby, not really expecting a response.
“They are here,” Toby replied confidently, “at the bottom.”
Well, of course, Coon Dog groused to himself. “Any idea where I should start looking?” he asked.
‘The center of the river, there,” Toby indicated with a bob of his nose.
This was going to be awful, Coon decided, so it was best to get it over with. On the first disgusting dip of his paw, Coon wanted to run, to shake that leg, to fling the water off, but with steely determination, he forced himself to grow accustomed to the sensation of being wet. Awfully, horribly, disgustingly wet! Suppressing a growl, he submerged another formerly dry paw, making it revolting too. After a few steps, he was up to his chest, and then swimming. The hardest part was keeping his bearings in the current, so that he headed to the spot Toby had indicated, and the grumpy cat soon found himself distracted from revulsion by practicality.
Once Coon Dog was about halfway across the river, he calmed himself, took a deep breath, and dove under. He had to swim against the tendency to float, fighting to stay under the water. The bed was rocky, and colors seemed grayed out beneath the surface. Coon Dog allowed himself to float up for air once… twice… three times. And on the fourth submersion, there it was! The catnip seeds were in a gallon-sized zipper bag within a second larger plastic bag, probably dry, and very well preserved and weighted down by a single large rock. He tumbled the rock using his hind legs. Then Coon Dog took careful hold of the bag in his mouth, taking care not to pierce the waterproof sack with his teeth, and surfaced for the last time.
Gasping for air, he scanned the shoreline for Toby. For at least twenty minutes that dog had been sitting pensively, not helping at all–most of which time it took Coon Dog to simply arrive at the middle of the river. Now the dog had vanished. Coon headed for shore, figuring his work was done, when something downstream caught the corner of his eye. He looked, and there was the back of Toby’s head as he bobbed down the river.
Coon Dog didn’t know much about swimming, but it didn’t look like Toby was going anywhere he wanted to be. Then the dog got tilted back and sucked under the water. Coon’s hair tried to stand on end despite being soaked. He dropped the precious pouch of seeds back into the river and went after Toby. Everything felt like it took forever in the water. Coon Dog could hardly tell whether he was moving. After what seemed like an eternity of swimming without any sign of Toby, Coon’s scrambling paws contacted something unusual. Peering at the river, Coon made out the murky outline of the dog directly beneath him, so he pulled at the collar, dunking himself underwater.
Toby seemed to come to life then and swam for shore with Coon Dog riding on his back, claws dug into the collar. Coon Dog had plenty of questions welling up in him, and he couldn’t wait to reach shore, where he could face the dog and ask what happened. He had dropped his father’s seeds! They were no longer anchored in place by a rock, so he didn’t know whether he’d be able to find them again, either. Coon fumed, wondering what the dog had been trying to do.
Just when Toby gained his footing on the river bed and began to emerge from the water, something big took hold of Coon’s hind paw and pulled. Splash. Coon was pulled underwater again, this time dragged by a fish. He swam awkwardly, trying to get his nose above water. Toby commanded, “Don’t let the fish get away. Drag it to shore.” Coon thought the dog could lend some muscle, since he was the stronger swimmer, but Toby seemed content to watch Coon struggle. And Coon couldn’t explain what he wanted while being dunked under the surface.
Coon twisted himself in the river and sank his claws into the fish, razoring the fish’s back around the dorsal fin, leaving deep, diagonal shreds. He was rewarded when the fish opened his mouth and released Coon’s leg, finally. Docile yet heavy, the fish was merely deadweight while Coon swam ashore with the awkward burden.
There in the mud, Toby stood watch over the catnip seeds, which had miraculously appeared on shore and remained dry. “Because you abandoned these seeds,” Toby said, “in order to save my life, you will be greatly rewarded. You are a good kitty, like your father and like Sarah.” Coon was still laboring to bring the fish completely out of the water, but he noticed the bag of catnip seeds was bigger now, more stuffed than it had been.
“OK,” Coon said. What he really wanted to know was how he would carry that big bag home to his father. If it had been that big in the first place, he surely couldn’t have floated up with it.
Toby instructed, “Remove the heart, liver, and gallbladder. The heart and liver, you will burn to break the curse tonight for Sarah. The demon, Asmodeus, will leave her, and she will be yours then.”
Coon Dog shook his head to get the water out of his ears. Had he heard that correctly? It sounded as if Toby admitted there really was a demon involved! It was a real curse! Sarah was a good kitty. She didn’t deserve to be possessed (as if anyone does). Even if she rejected Coon, he wanted to set her free. He didn’t care so much for the sound of yours, as if he would own her. But he panicked a little over the need to burn something. Could he overcome his fear of fire for her? Toby made it all sound so simple. Flick, flick, his shook water off his paws, simultaneously punctuating the turns of thought as they raced by in no particular order.
“The gallbladder is for restoring your father’s sight. You can bring the rest of the fish to Sarah for dinner tonight.” Toby finished.
“Wait a minute. Tonight? How long is all of this going to take? I have to get home to my dad. He’s going to be hungry. I can’t just leave him to fend for himself like that,” Coon protested, utterly still now. Maybe the dog could deal with the demon by himself, while Coon attended to his father. Coon Dog could always come back for Sarah tomorrow. She’d already been possessed for a long time, and his father would be hungry now.
“I will attend to your father tonight,” Toby responded. Then, the dog picked up the seeds and disappeared with them.
This left Coon to drag the fish to Sarah on his own. Which way was she?
Toby reappeared. “Close your eyes.”
Coon Dog barely stifled an eye roll as he obeyed, and he saw the whole way to Sarah’s little house in his mind’s eye. When he opened his eyes, he tried to discern whether he was annoying the dog, but Toby’s face gave nothing away. Then, the dog was gone again.
***
Coon’s father, Raphael, felt the disturbance, the way air circulated differently under the bush Raphael used for cover, before the dog spoke.
“Raphael, I have come in answer to your prayers. Your son is well and will return tomorrow,” he announced.
Raphael braced himself to endure hunger, not for the first time since becoming blind. He was grateful to hear that his son was well.
“Your seeds are here,” the dog began, but Raphael didn’t let him finish. He darted forward toward the crinkling sound, snagged the bag, and retreated, flinging the bag under himself and settling on top of it. Anyone who wanted these seeds would have to tear him apart, Raphael thought.
“Good,” the dog continued. “You have always been a good kitty, Raphael, and that is why the Lord has heard you. Your prayer will be answered,” he promised, and Raphael’s blind eyes teared up at the confirmation, “But not in the way you asked for. This should be just enough,” the dog mysteriously concluded. Raphael was amazed when he heard the change in airflow again. Suddenly, the dog’s body was no longer there, Raphael mused.
The smell of something delicious, however, had taken the dog’s place. Mice, he thought. More carefully than before, Raphael sniffed his way forward, bumped his nose against a mouse, and dragged the body back to settle himself on top of the bag of seeds, while he ate. It was almost like having a cat bed, as he had enjoyed in his younger days, Raphael remembered. What he wouldn’t do to have a cat bed again! Or his own human to just lay out food for him. It was perhaps a little insane, but Raphael missed crunchy cat food.
When Raphael’s eyes had sealed shut with burns, it hadn’t even been his own house on fire. He’d been hunting under a cloudy night sky. Animals were rushing from one particular direction, and he had made a few tries for them, as they sped by. Curious, Raphael advanced to discover the source of their terror. Then he followed the smell of smoke. Then the crackling sound of it. When he finally had eyes on the house fire, he watched for a moment until he heard the snoring, and he made a decision to save the human. He jumped and clung to the window screen nearest that snoring sound, and he caterwauled as loudly as he could, waking the human despite the disorienting effects of smoke inhalation. The human managed to groggily clamber out the window and drop to the grass safely.
Once the human was up and stumbling about, Raphael rounded the house to identify the cause of a high-pitched hissing. It was then that the gas line blew, shrouding his eyes in endless darkness. His son, Coon, had only been a kitten at the time and couldn’t now remember what an adventurer Raphael had been before he was blind. All this time, Coon had been bringing his father fresh kills every day. Until this dog came with prey. It was strange indeed to have fresh kills delivered by a canine. How had the dog managed any of this? Where had he come from, and where had he gone?
“Hello,” an attractive female voice trilled, piercing through Raphael’s musings. His chewing must have covered up the sounds of her approach. Raphael was alone, he reminded himself, and he had to be more careful when Coon was away.
Not only was Raphael blind and disinclined to talk to strangers, but he was sitting on a treasure. What if this female knew he was lying on top of a cache of catnip seeds? Would he be robbed now that Coon Dog had risked so much to go get the seeds for him? These seeds had been secured at the bottom of a brisk and untame river. Raphael could not fail to protect the seeds until his son returned. He remained silent and hoped the female would leave.
“Hello?” she sang out this time. “I’m an indoor-only cat. My name is Fluffy?” The way she said her name sounded like a question, and Rapael wasn’t sure how to answer. He resolved to remain quiet. She would leave. Everyone could take a hint eventually. “I ran when a human repairman banged something, and his friend was in the doorway.” She paused again, and she did sound scared. Did Raphael dare to believe that beautiful voice? Her name, Fluffy, sounded made up, but weren’t they all? “I need help,” she added, and Raphael’s tail went limp in defeat.
Sighing with the realization that there was only one thing he could possibly say next, Raphael offered, “I have an extra mouse, dear.”
“Oh, thank you!” she enthused. “This will be just like a camping trip now,” which sounded exotic to her, Raphael supposed. “A wonderful story to tell my kittens one day,” she added, nervously filling the air with talk. As she advanced into the bush, Fluffy’s coat snagged several times on the poky branches. Without seeing her, Raphael knew the lady-cat must live up to her name. She snuggled warmly against Raphael, and indeed, yes, she was fluffy. The old tom took a few sniffs of her, just to make sure he’d know her by scent in the future. He’d forgotten how nice female company smelled.
The lady-cat continued in her melodious mew. “You seem like a good kitty, and I can’t go home just yet.” Whispering in her embarrassment, she confided, “I had a hairball today that my owner probably hasn’t found yet. I think I’ll stay away until I’m sure he’s gotten over that. Don’t worry, though. I won’t take up space here for too long.”
Take up space? This moment was so full of miracles for Raphael, he was afraid to speak, in case he accidentally broke a spell. Raphael wondered what color her coat could be. Would it make her uncomfortable if he asked? He decided not to risk it, content just to have the presence of a lady-cat for however long she stayed. It probably wouldn’t be long, but it was nice while his son was away. Just hearing himself think that made him feel how burdensome he was. This was all the more reason, Raphael thought, why praying for death had seemed the only solution. He didn’t want to sadden his son by taking his own life, but he couldn’t bear to live this way anymore, either.
“You’re so warm,” Fluffy commented, really tucking into her mouse. “Have you ever heard of glamping,” she wanted to know. “It’s glamorous camping, where you just imagine you’re roughing it,” she added because Raphael hadn’t answered by the time she swallowed. “This must be what they mean,” she said, and Raphael could hear the smile in her voice and the contented pat of her tail as she ate. She was happy to have found him.
Fluffy treated Raphael as if he were the same as any other tom. She probably thought he’d caught the mouse by himself, and he was warm. Raphael couldn’t imagine why she didn’t comment on his eyes, sealed shut as they were. And he didn’t want to know, he decided. He would simply enjoy this night. God was so good to give Raphael this one last miraculous night of almost normalcy, here at the sunset of his life.
***
Sarah felt like she’d been following Coon for hours. First, he came to her house and got her attention. She’d mewed for Nice Lady to let her out, and she’d been following him ever since. “How much further?” she asked.
“Almost there,” he answered, nimbly climbing a rocky incline. He turned to watch her do the same, and then he took the next incline to a landing.
“No seriously, how much further?” Sarah asked again.
“This,” he paused to run up another incline, “is,” then turned to watch her join him, “it.”
Sarah almost fell back with surprise. There was an opening to a cave not one body length ahead of her. Sarah’s eyes adjusted to reveal that Coon had already been here and had prepared the space. There was a generous fish for dinner. The makings of a fire had been assembled in the center of the space, and a slightly flattened corduroy pillow would serve as a cuddly bed for two. “You thought this through, you dirty dog.”
Coon snickered appreciatively at the joke. “I wanted to get catnip for the bed, but I couldn’t find any on short notice. I promise to make it up to you. You’ll never go a day without it once we get our crops going.”
Exhilarated, Sarah couldn’t help but be swept off her paws again. No one had ever gone to such efforts for her, she thought. But she couldn’t blithely condemn him to death. Her paw hesitated, not quite crossing into the cave, and her eyes slowly pulled themselves up to meet his.
“I’m sorry, Coon. If I do this, you will die. You are a charming, sweet tom–”
“Don’t worry. There is a demon we have to chase away, but I know how to do it. And even if you choose to leave me then, at least you’ll know that you’re free,” Coon pleaded. “Come inside. Let me help you.”
Sarah thought it couldn’t hurt just to see what he was talking about. The idea of a demon fit, and no one yet had offered an explanation, much less a practical solution. Curiosity might be the death of her–or Coon, rather–but Sarah wanted to believe that she could have a life. Sarah stepped into the darkness of the cave.
“This is a fish heart and a fish liver. We just have to light the fire,” Coon announced triumphantly in the time it took Sarah’s eyes to adjust. She made out the rest of the fish body, set aside for dinner she assumed, to one side.
“OK.” Sarah said. But Coon didn’t move. “Go ahead,” she encouraged.
Coon shifted his weight from side to side. “Well, I’d hoped that you would help with this part. My father was blinded by a fire, and … I could use some help.” He explained lamely.
Sarah was too curious for this to get in her way. Besides, he was so sweet to ask for help. “We just light this up, and the demon goes away?” she asked incredulously.
“That’s what the dog told me,” Coon confirmed.
“What dog?”
“The hound named Toby,” Coon answered, and immediately, Sarah thought of the hound from the vet’s office. The one by the creek had looked so similar. Could it be the same one? If the dog knew how to help, why hadn’t it done so long ago?
All Sarah could do was try. But how to light the fire, now that was a problem for a creature with no thumbs. Coon’s best answer appeared to be a matchbook. Sarah kept her claws honed to perfection, but she’d never seen this done before.
She dragged one claw across the matchbook. Nothing, not even a spark, and her claw had been filed down to a blunt tip like a spoon. She tried again, more forcefully this time, with another claw. Same result, more blunted, and she had scuffed the pad of a digit. On the third try, she felt something extra hard catch and heat up. Instead of giving in to curiosity, she dragged it with all her might, and a spark jumped onto a greedy match head.
An unseen force seemed to be pulling the flames outward to engulf the whole matchbook. Sarah stood enthralled. Coon leapt to her rescue, skewered the matchbook with a single claw, and flung it toward his kindling with the liver and heart perched atop. The matchbook easily slid from his claw, and the dry wood blazed to life. So, he was brave when someone else was at risk, Sarah mentally noted. He was a very good kitty, she thought.
Sarah examined her paw and found an embarrassing rock stuck in the crevice of the underside of a claw. She worked a tooth into the space and eased out the rock, wiping it away from her mouth with the back of her paw. Then she looked to see whether Coon had noticed her little problem.
“That was handy,” he said, apparently complimenting her for the rock. The look on his face was one of admiration. They had started a fire together, after all, which was amazing. So Sarah let go of her embarrassment and simply enjoyed the moment.
Coon dragged fish dinner to Sarah, and the felines nestled close, taking comfort in feeling one another’s heartbeats and watching the fire side-by-side until the flames reached and took hold of the entrails. Sarah took a deep breath of the fishy smoke, and she felt something shift inside her, something roughly chest level. It was that old weight she had grown accustomed to and forgotten about. The oppression fluttered, spasmed, and finally launched like a bird into flight. Sarah felt that her heart was lighter. Astonished, she turned to Coon, wondering whether she looked any different.
“Are you alright?” he asked.
“Better than alright. I’m free.” Sarah closed her eyes and smiled in the direction the demon had flown, out of the cave under the eternal gaze of the stars. She lost track of time until she felt it: A lick from Coon on her cheek. She opened her eyes and saw her whole future lying beside her.
She licked him back.
***
Zipping across the landscape, fuming about losing his latest host, the demon Asmodeus was disgusted by the smoky smell of fish. It outraged him so absolutely, he did not notice the angel Toby until he had flown right into the trap. Before he knew it, Asmodeus was tied and sent back to the underworld, where he would be unable to torment souls. He was most likely, in fact, to be tormented himself. He really hated it down below even more than he hated good kitties.
***
Sarah awoke to the pull of sunlight and the twittering of prey, all happily unaware of the cats’ proximity. Then she realized that Coon was not sleeping beside her, and she feared the worst. What if he had dragged himself under a bush to die sometime in the night? How could Sarah live with herself?
“Hey,” he meowed from further back in the cave. “Are you ok?” He licked her ear just because he could, and he sniffed appreciatively at her innate scent.
Sarah breathed a sigh of relief and leaned into his touch. “You’re alive,” she explained.
“Oh, it’ll take more than some demon to kill me. I’m indestructible,” he joked.
Sarah smiled. She envied humans for their ability to laugh. A laugh spoke so much more than her happy little grin. Her tail patted the cool ground and she purred, completely relaxed.
“I do need to get back to my father, though. He’s blind. I know your home is here, so, I was thinking about it. I could split my time between there and here. Unless… well, I guess things will change when my father gets his eyesight back, so maybe I should wait and see where he wants to live then.”
Sarah could tell that Coon hadn’t gotten as much sleep as she had, and she felt guilty about that. “No, my home is with you. We can both split our time between our humans. Or whatever your father wants to do. But how is your father’s eyesight coming back?” she asked.
Coon Dog explained as best he could about the hound’s help thus far and showed her the gallbladder.
“You’ll just … squeeze gall on his eyes or what?” Sarah asked.
“The hound didn’t explain all that yet, but I’m sure he will, once I need to know. For now, I just really need to check on my dad. I’ve never been away this long before.”
Sarah got up, stretched her forelegs, tremored the skin of her back, and twitched her tail in preparation for a journey. Straightening up, “Let’s go then,” she meowed.
Coon Dog thought it would be ok to travel a little slower this time. It was so sweet to have someone who wanted to help with his dad, and it was nice to have a travel companion. Sarah was just so… nice! But once he indicated the direction, she took off!
He picked up the gallbladder delicately with his teeth, and he could only follow her so quickly, since he had to be careful not to accidentally bite into the disgusting organ. Sarah was a tricky, clever kitty, Coon thought appreciatively. Up over grassy hills and barrelling down them, through unsuspecting prey left to live for another meal, Coon handled the gallbladder, while Sarah raced ahead of him. They made better time together than Coon would have by himself.
A few hills later and just before crossing a road, Toby appeared to them. Coon’s house was in sight. The hound sat on his haunches, still looking droopy and mournful but somehow also smiling.
“Congratulations, newlyweds,” Toby greeted the couple. “The last stage of your journey is at hand. It is necessary to embrace even the moments of bitter suffering and to walk through them. This is what you must do in order to give your father back his sight, Coon. Open the cat carrier on the porch. Open it on both ends, so your father can walk straight through. Your father will pass through the carrier after you drip the contents of the gallbladder over his eyes, and then he will regain his sight.”
“My father will never do that. He hates the vet! He won’t walk through the carrier!” Coon Dog protested.
“He must.” Toby replied and disappeared.
Coon Dog explained to Sarah, “My father is scared that he’ll be put down if he’s taken to the vet. He’s blind, and that’s what humans do.”
Sarah understood the fear. “They would put him down,” she confirmed. “We just won’t let that happen. There are two of us, and we’ll protect him,” she said simply.
And Coon loved her for it. She was so determined. But he had no idea how he was going to talk his father into this.
***
Fluffy saw them coming and described the approaching cats to Raphael. That was the first she’d intimated that she knew he couldn’t see. It was a shaming moment for Raphael. She would be gone soon, he figured. It wasn’t as though his faults were hidden or mistakable or acceptable. Humans would have him put down, he was such a miserable creature. Only his son had never pitied him. His son had always seemed to respect him and his experience and stories. His son made him feel valuable. And from what Fluffy said, Coon Dog was not alone. Who was this calico female with him?
Coon Dog approached warily, ready to defend Sarah, if necessary. “Dad?” he meowed.
“Coon Dog, let me introduce you to Fluffy. She got turned around and ended up sharing a meal with me last night.”
“So the dog did bring you something to eat,” Coon reasoned aloud.
Raphael’s head bobbed as though he’d been struck. His own son pointing out his inadequacies! In front of a female! Humiliation burned Raphael from the tip of his nose to the pads of his toes and settled to boil in his belly.
Fluffy came to Coon’s rescue. “Your father took such good care of me,” she smoothed over, earning herself a grateful sniff from Raphael. He really wanted to remember her lovely scent when she left.
Unfazed, Coon went on to explain everything about Toby, the wedding, the fish entrails, and what they needed to do with the cat carrier now, except that Coon referred to the cage the same way his father did, as the Carrier of Death.
“No.” Raphael gave the only possible response.
“I’ll walk through it ahead of you. And between the three of us, we’ll make sure no humans trap you in the carrier,” Fluffy offered. For a lady-cat who had just met his family, Raphael found Fluffy to be adorably gullible. “He only has to walk through once?” she confirmed with Coon.
“Yep, just once. If it was me, I’d be willing to walk through it a bunch of times for my eyesight, but I can’t walk through it for you, Dad.”
All the while, Raphael heard things moving about on the porch. That lady-cat who married his son–Raphael had already forgotten her name, if it had been spoken–seemed to be a real teammate. There she was setting up the science experiment, while Coon handled his old man. She seemed alright. And Fluffy wanted him to do it. She was going to go first. With a sigh, Raphael realized that he couldn’t continue to refuse and call himself a tom cat. “Let’s get this over with,” he said, heaving himself to his feet.
Fluffy raced ahead to lead him. “Yes!” she meowed.
“Hold up,” Coon Dog said. Fluffy stopped short, and Raphael nearly rear-ended her. Something nasty dripped onto Raphael’s eyes, causing Raphael to shake his head involuntarily. “OK,” Coon said, and Fluffy took off again.
Unwillingly, Raphael followed by sound now that his power of smell had been overtaken. “What was that?”
“Did I forget to mention the gallbladder?” Coon asked.
“You squeezed a fish’s gallbladder over my face?” Raphael asked.
“How could you tell it was from a fish?” Coon asked.
Raphael didn’t bother to answer. Fluffy had led him to the Cage of Death. “Here we go,” she said. “Everyone ready?”
The calico and Coon replied, “Yes,” and Fluffy led the way.
“Hang on,” Coon, Raphael’s attentive boy, started to say, but it was too late. The door hadn’t been open wide enough for Raphael to pass through, and there was a sharp edge to one of the wires. The wire door caught the corner of Raphael’s eyelid. If Coon had been leading the way, he would have known to push the door wider, but poor Fluffy didn’t have the experience. She hadn’t known. Raphael forgave her, even in his pain and distress, but he couldn’t stop yowling. He barrelled forward, wrenching his head away from the pain, pushing into Fluffy from the back, yowling continuously and loudy from the searing pain. They made it through the other side of the carrier, and that was his limit. Something had ripped his eye, and it felt as though it were on fire.
But no, that couldn’t account for the change. Could it? He was seeing so much … light. It was beautiful. It was almost worth the pain. Sucking in the rest of what he wanted to yowl, Raphael settled on his haunches and tried to hide his face while he sorted out what he was seeing and feeling.
“Can you see?” Coon asked. He was dodging his head to get a closeup view of his father’s injury.
“A little more than I could,” Raphael admitted. “It was a good try, Son.”
“Your eyelid is torn. It’s the gap you’re looking through. If I … use my claw and tear it further…” Coon hesitated to argue.
Fluffy and the calico gasped.
Raphael sucked in a breath. “Do it,” he ordered.
Coon Dog could see that his father was already braced for more pain, so he didn’t make the old tom wait. He used both forepaws and his very best claw. He was no surgeon, but he could follow the faint line that indicated where the lids had once been separate.
That line, however, did not mean the area wanted to be cut. Raphael couldn’t keep his pain to himself. He yowled, even as he told himself not to.
The porch door banged open. It was Coon’s human, Nice Man, but Coon didn’t trust the Nice Man with his father yet. Raphael was so close to having his eyesight back!
“Hurry,” Raphael meowed.
Nice Man grabbed Raphael and Coon by their scruffs, but he didn’t count on being attacked by the ladies. “Holy–!” the human cried. “Where did you all come from??”
***
Nice Man identified his own cat, Coon Dog, as the biggest threat in the scene, but the cat with injured eyes needed the vet the most. Since he only had one carrier, Nice Man locked up the old tom in it. Amazingly, Coon stood by the carrier, not making it difficult to catch him. Nonetheless, Nice Man had two other cats to contend with. He recognized Fluffy from a neighbor’s window down the road. He didn’t recognize Sarah, but she seemed to be friends with Fluffy, he assumed based on their team attack. Quickly deciding to leave the lady-cats inside his house for safekeeping until he could sort them out later, he tossed them in the porch door, grabbed the carrier, and let Coon follow him to the car.
Coon might need a rabies shot or something, Nice Man figured. Not sure what to expect next from his cat, Nice Man decided to switch who was in the carrier. Coon found himself locked up, while Raphael got to sit on the front passenger seat without restraint.
The vet gave Raphael pain medications and performed the needed surgery through his lunch break. Coon eventually got sent home with a clean bill of health. Nice Man, still bewildered at Coon’s performance earlier, brought his cat home, returned Fluffy to the neighbor, and then returned to the vet with Sarah in the carrier, so she could get checked out, too.
At the end of what became a very long day, it turned out that Raphael had no microchip, so Nice Man would be keeping him. Once the vet released Raphael to go home, Nice Man carried the loopy cat gingerly out of the car, through the house, and all the way back to the guest bedroom. Coon watched their progress with interest, but his meows went unanswered. Then Coon observed several of his cat beds seized and taken away to the guest bedroom. His extra litter box, extra water bowl, plenty of food…. The plan appeared to be that his father would be upgraded to a special suite in the house, and Coon was a feline non grata. That was ok. He could still talk to his dad through the door, and he knew his father was drugged but delighted to have his sight restored. Raphael was also wearing a Cone of Shame and had no wish to be seen this way.
Sarah, on the other hand, did have a microchip and belonged to a Nice Lady not too far away by car. Curious about how she found his house and got peripherally involved in an off-the-books medical procedure, Nice Man explained his plan to Coon. The human knelt to pet the cat’s head before returning the calico to her owner and told him, “Well, boy, the old cat you were working over is going to need rest and twice-a-day eye ointment. You aren’t even allowed to lick him. As for the calico, I found her owner, and I’ll be taking her home now.”
Coon walked to the outside door with a determination reserved, usually, for hunting prey almost his size. Through the screen door, he saw her just waiting on the porch in the carrier. She looked helpless. Obviously, Nice Man had not explained the plan to her. Coon stood on hind legs to try to push the door open, but it was latched. He looked back at his master and meowed in desperation. Coon had to come along. He and Sarah were home to each other now. There was no way he’d be left out of the car this time. Nice Man sighed.
Coon was docile as a kitten now, so Nice Man carried him on a shoulder and Sarah in the carrier. In the car, Nice Man switched the cats so that Coon went in the cage again. Coon was being treated as if he were some sort of criminal, while Sarah got to roam freely just as his dad had done. Coon supposed the Nice Man only had one carrier and had to pick his battles today.
Sarah’s Nice Lady ran out of her house, leaving the front door open. She had been worried about how long Sarah was away. Coon was happy to see Nice Lady nuzzle with Sarah. Then she invited Coon’s human inside, and Coon got carried in, too. As the humans talked, Coon understood that Nice Lady was like Sarah in many ways, just like Coon’s gentleman human resembled him. The tom cat thought he was watching a small romance unfold before him, and he curled up with Sarah to watch, heads to tails.
“Well, he seems perfectly fine now,” Nice Lady reasoned. “What if Coon knew the other cat needed surgery? You might just have a very smart cat, not a bully at all,” she argued.
Yes, Coon really liked Nice Lady. She might even figure out that the formerly blind cat was his father.
***
About three months later, Raphael was out of the Cone of Shame and saw his grandchildren born. Fluffy had somehow convinced her human to let her outside from time to time, so she was at the birth, too. Coon was back in the good graces of his human, and Sarah glowed as a mother.
Nice Lady was keeping Coon and Sarah at her house temporarily. The humans had decided to give Raphael plenty of rest in his old age, so he generally stayed at Nice Man’s guest room on what had become the catnip farm. But Nice Lady and Nice Man were being very decent about shuttling Coon back and forth as needed and explaining the way of things to Fluffy’s human, so she was allowed play dates at the catnip farm and Nice Lady’s house. Until Sarah was heavy with pregnancy, they had been taxiing the pregnant mother back and forth just as often as Coon. Sarah missed Fluffy and was delighted when she appeared along with Raphael and Nice Man. Fluffy’s human was not in attendance, thank goodness. Sarah had quite enough audience for giving birth as it was.
“I had no idea so many cats lived in this area,” Nice Lady commented.
“The catnip trade is booming, and I decided to put all the profits towards the cats for their food and medical bills and comfort. That’s why I insisted on paying the vet’s bill for the birth,” he explained. “You know, I work from home, so I thought I could handle a few interruptions to sell catnip, but I’m going to have to designate windows of time for the side hustle. It’s getting hard to do my real job,” Nice Man answered.
“Or–just an idea–you could set up an honor system and let people leave money at a stand,” Nice Lady proposed. “I really appreciate you picking up my cat’s vet bills,” she added.
“Well, they’re sort of … our kittens,” he explained tentatively, judging her reaction as he went. She was blushing prettily, so he smiled back. Perhaps the humans only wanted to see each other and used the cats as an excuse. The cats were fine with that.
Coon helped Sarah lick the babies dry, and he licked her, too. He was so relieved to see the vet leave. Nothing to do here, Vet! Sarah had done an amazing job. Coon was a father! Raphael was a grandparent… and Fluffy, too, in a way. All seemed right with the world.
Nice Lady and Nice Man looked on, comfortable enough not to fill the air with talk after all their time together. Nice Lady whispered, “What good kitties.”
Nice Man playfully echoed, “What good kitties?”
“No, you’re saying it wrong. It’s not a question. What GOOOOOD kitties!” Nice Lady stage whispered back, and the humans laughed. The cats felt no need to participate in whatever was happening between them.
Much later, Nice Man carried Coon outside for a goodnight talk on the porch. He patted Coon on the head and said, “Good kitty,” and it didn’t sound like a question at all now. Coon’s human took his time petting Coon, not at all in a hurry to take Raphael and Fluffy back to their homes. Coon was going to stay with Sarah at Nice Lady’s house for the night.
Toby, the hound dog, appeared in front of them, illuminated by the lights of the porch. His mournful eyes shone too brightly, as if he were lit from within. When the dog caught Coon’s eye, Nice Man looked up and saw him, too.
“Whoa!” shouted Nice Man. “Where did you come from?”
Toby took no apparent note of the man and spoke only to Coon Dog. His words sounded like a rumble, a happy growl to the humans’ ear. “Blessed is God, now and always. Even a sparrow finds a home and the swallow a nest for her brood. Even the hairs on your head are numbered, Coon Dog. Do not be lax in praising Him.” And then Toby disappeared for the last time from Coon’s sight.
“Whoa!” Nice Man shouted again, eyes scanning the darkness for signs of the dog’s passage. Coon didn’t know how to help his human, so the tom merely got up and sat at Nice Lady’s screen door to be let in. Nice Man snorted at himself–at least Coon assumed the man was laughing at himself–then let Coon Dog inside and, armed with two carriers now, shuttled the senior cats away.
When Sarah drifted to sleep nestled against him, their kittens full and happy, Coon Dog felt like the luckiest cat in the world. “Blessed be God in his angels and in his saints,” purred Sarah’s eighth and final suitor.
THE END