Cat Trick

When I got down to the kitchen, Hercules was sitting by the cats’ food bowls. I bent down to pet the top of his head. “Good morning,” I said. Owen was sitting next to the table, carefully washing his face.

He knew. I’d explained everything over supper last night, and I was certain that somehow he understood Ruby was going to take pictures of him and use them to paint his portrait. Now he was meticulously getting ready for that. It wasn’t something I’d ever be able to explain to someone who wasn’t a cat person.

“Why don’t you wait until you’ve eaten to do that?” I said as I got the cats’ breakfast.

He hesitated with a paw in midair and seemed to consider my words. Then he went back to washing the right side of his face. Apparently, having one’s portrait painted required a lot of grooming.

Owen ate breakfast with even more care than he usually exhibited. Then the face-washing routine began all over again. Hercules watched his brother with what seemed to be amusement. The first problem came when it was time to leave. Owen refused to get in the cat carrier. He shook his furry gray head, marched over to the back door and sat down in front of it.

“No,” I said emphatically. “You go in the bag or you don’t go.”

He disappeared, his default play when he couldn’t get his own way.

“Fine,” I said. I hung the carrier back on its hook, kicked off my shoes and sat down at the table again. I leaned forward, forearms on my knees, and smiled at Hercules, who still had that slightly amused expression on his black-and-white face.

He looked from me to approximately where I figured Owen was and then back to me again. Probably wondering who was going to blink first.

“So, what do you have planned for this morning?” I asked. “Sitting on the sunporch? A nap? Maybe some grackle stalking?”

He meowed enthusiastically at my last suggestion.

“I have to work on the staff schedule for next month.” I brushed a bit of lint off the bottom of my pants. “And decide what we’re going to do for Halloween programs. What do you think about a puppet show?”

He bobbed his head up and down. It might have been a yes or it might have been that he was following a dust mite drifting near the floor.

“Did you hear the phone ring last night?” I asked. “That was Roma. She invited me to have lunch out at Wisteria Hill next week.”

He put a paw on my leg and looked over at the carrier bag. “I’m sure Roma wouldn’t mind you going out for a look around sometime,” I said.

Owen winked into view then. He stalked over to where the bag was hanging, tail flicking like a whip, and sat down underneath it.

I gave Hercules a scratch on the top of his nose. “Have a good morning,” I whispered.

I got up, went over to where Owen was standing, his back to me, and set the cat tote on the floor. He got in without looking at me while I stepped into my shoes. I put the bag over my shoulder, grabbed my keys and briefcase and headed for the truck.

I set the carrier on the passenger side and unzipped the top so Owen could at least poke his head out. He took riding shotgun very seriously. We were halfway down Mountain Road before one ear emerged out of the zippered opening. After a moment, the rest of the cat followed. He sat on the seat with the bag between us and stared out of the windshield for the rest of the ride.

When we got to the River Arts Center, I pulled into Maggie’s parking spot, the way I had the last time. “Bag,” I said to Owen.

He climbed inside with a twitch of his ears and a flick of his tail. I made sure the zipper was done up all the way before I got out of the truck.

Ruby was waiting by the back door. “Good morning,” she said, holding it open for me.

“Hi,” I said.

She bent over and peeked at Owen through the front mesh panel of the carrier. “Hi, Owen,” she said.

“Murp,” he said in return.

Ruby laughed. “I love your cats,” she said. “They’re like little people in fur suits.”

“You have that right,” I said, following her up the stairs. “Owen definitely thinks he’s a person and should have all the same rights and privileges.”

Another meow came from the bag.

“See?” I said.

Ruby laughed again.

Once we were in Ruby’s studio, it didn’t take long for the “photo shoot” to begin. Ruby had cleared her workspace, and her camera was ready. I opened the bag and lifted Owen out. He blinked, shook himself and took a couple of passes at his face with one paw.

“You look fabulous,” Ruby told him, and he immediately sat up straighter and held his head up a little higher.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” I muttered.