The Cat Came Back
Berrybox Champion Gingersnap was displeased. He sniffed around the litter box but he didn’t appreciate it any more this time around than the first time he had examined it. The litter was dusty and definitely inferior, causing him to sneeze three times in a row as a result of his sniffing.
Definitely
inferior to the litter he was used to. Such inferiority was not to be tolerated so Berrybox Champion Gingersnap did something he had never done since he was a tiny kitten, five years ago. He moved elsewhere and did what he had to do under a chair on a corner of a carpet. He made attempts to cover the result, but the carpet didn’t respond too well to his scratching. Too bad. He moved disdainfully away in search of a satisfactory place to nap.
On paper, Berrybox Champion Gingersnap was a cat, but not just an ordinary cat. He was a several times repeat winner of best in the show, a Blue Point Siamese of beautiful, sleek appearance, sire of several other champions, not to mention the non-champion pets who could, had they been able and willing, call him father. Before coming to this house, he had answered to the name Snapper, the more aristocratic three-name title being used only on official papers that referred to him. Snapper, the name he preferred to be called and to which he would occasionally respond, was proud, recognizing his superiority with a haughty attitude that left no doubt as to who made the decisions in his world.
The method of his arrival at this house had been somewhat surprising. One minute he had been dozing in his cage at the championship cat show, satisfied to be gazed at and admired, caring little for the Grand Championship ribbon which hung on the cage for all to see. Suddenly Snapper felt his cage being hastily hoisted from the table and in a hurried and rather uncomfortable manner, moved swiftly down a hall and out a back door. Snapper didn’t like the way he was forced to hold on with his claws to keep from being knocked about as the cage swung from side to side, but he was too busy hanging on to complain. Apparently nobody noticed his sudden departure because there was no outcry. The cage was dropped roughly into the back seat of a cold and noisy sedan. Snapper yowled his displeasure a couple of times, but since no reply came back to him, he ceased. Following a short drive, the cage was carried into this house where it was unceremoniously dropped onto the floor, the cage door opened and the occupant invited to emerge.
Snapper hadn’t felt like leaving just at that moment and decided to resume his interrupted nap. Actually, he was a bit curious, quite a bit curious, but after all, he was a cat, a Siamese cat, and he was in charge of his own movements,
thank you
. The person who had been carrying the cage thought otherwise. A hand reached in and pulled Snapper from the cage backward, front legs splayed to right and left, claws dug in, all to no use, then deposited him, somewhat ruffled, on the floor.
“There, Meg. There’s our ticket to money.”
The voice was not soothing to Snapper’s ears, but neither was the manner in which he had been introduced to the house very soothing to his ego. He decided to have nothing to do with the human who had produced the voice. The second voice, the one that replied to the first, was no more to his liking. It whined.
“Sam, what are we going to do with a cat? I don’t even care much for the things and this one is ugly. Look at its eyes. And what do you mean, ‘money?’”
Snapper wandered away. He was not happy, but his innate curiosity made him at least want to look around and investigate. He found a windowsill and jumped up to look out, pushing the curtains aside.
“Leave them curtains alone, you rotten cat!”
The whiney voice got louder and a hand swatted Snapper’s aristocratic behind, pushing him roughly off the windowsill. He ran under the couch and began to wash his paws while he thought about the situation. The other voice was laughing.
“Don’t worry about it, Meg. This cat is going to bring you enough money to get as many new curtains as you want.”
“Whaddya mean?” She was becoming more and more annoyed.
“Ransom. I snatched the cat.”
“From where? Who’d pay money to get an ugly thing like that back?”
“From the cat show. Over at the Municipal Auditorium. Look at the ribbon on the cage. ‘Grand Champion’ it says. I checked around. This cat has been champion at more shows than enough. When he sires a litter, the kittens bring $250 each. That makes him valuable.”
“Two hundred and fifty dollars! Who in his right mind would pay that much for a cat?”
“Lot of people. I checked it all out. I found out the name and address of the man who owns this one. He’s got money, and he’ll pay to get his money machine back. We should have it all wrapped up in a couple of days.”
“How much money?”
“I’m going to ask ten…thousand…smackers !” Sam dragged out the words with appropriate emphasis.
“You’re kidding! Ten thousand? For that? Sam,
you’re
out of your mind.”
“Okay. Just you wait and see. They probably aren’t home yet, so I’m going to phone and leave a message on their answering machine, if they have one, and tell them the good news. It’s the only time I’ll be able to use this phone. They’ll get cops and have their line tapped; so after this, I’ll use a pay phone.”
“Stupid! You’ll wind up in jail again. All because of an ugly old cat.”
“Meg, I’ve got it all worked out. I even got a litter box and some food for the cat. Don’t worry about it, babe. We’ll get the money. Snatching a cat’s a whole lot better than taking a kid. The cops don’t get so worked up and there’s no risk at all. Trust me.”
“It’s your doing. I don’t want no part of it.”
“You’ll want part of the money, though, won’t you?”
Before Meg could make a reply to that one, Snapper removed himself from under the couch and resumed exploring. He dodged the hand that reached for him and walked around the room, checking the furniture and the carpet.
“We’ll put the litter box out here in the entry, and his food beside it. How about getting a couple of saucers down and I’ll give him some right now to let him know this is where he stays for awhile.”
Shortly thereafter, his sense of smell undermining his resolve to stay away from those people, Berrybox Champion Gingersnap examined the arrangements made for his comfort. The box was unsatisfactory. He also turned up his nose at the soft cat food. He was used to kibble, low ash diet kibble,
please
. The milk was something else. Snapper was never given milk, but he stole some whenever he got the chance. His veterinarian believed that milk is bad for male cats because it tends to make them susceptible to bladder infections. The vet’s opinion did nothing to change Snapper’s taste for milk, so he lapped up the milk now offered to him with considerable gusto. Perhaps this place would not be quite so bad after all.
Snapper paid no attention to Sam’s telephone call. He could have told Sam, had he been able to talk, what the voice on the answering machine would say, because he had heard it often enough when, home alone, he had been aware of the machine taking calls.
“
Hello
.” The voice was male, mellow, cultured and middle-aged. “
You have reached the Humphrey residence. We are unable to take your call just now. Please leave your name and a number where you can be reached and your call will be returned. Wait for the tone
.”
“Yeah,” said Sam after hearing the tone. “We’ve got your cat. You want him back? It’s going to cost you ten thousand dollars.” His voice was raspy, certainly not cultured and he spoke hurriedly from nervousness. “I’ll call at eight o’clock tonight for your answer. Be home then.” He hung up with a small slam of satisfaction.
“I hope you know what you’re doing.” Meg was putting on her coat. “I’m going to work now. Be back after midnight. I still think you’re crazy.”
After the door slammed behind Meg, Sam sat down and called, “Here, kitty, kitty. Come on kitty. Kitty, kitty, kitty.”
Snapper ignored the summons in favour of a post-drink bath. The man walked over and picked him up. Snapper didn’t like that. He dug in his claws. Hard. At the sound of the yelp, he pushed harder with his hind feet until, released, he jumped to the floor. He made a dignified run back under the couch.
“You rotten little bastard! Scratch me, will you. I’ll hammer you good when I catch you.”
It was no game for Sam, but Snapper had a good time and the lumbering man never did catch him. Sam finally gave up the chase and retired to the bathroom where, after he stopped the bleeding, he put ointment on his scratches. That done, he ignored Snapper and went out for a beer, slamming the door heavily behind him.
“Bloody cat,” he muttered going down the steps. “Should ask for twenty thousand for that.”
Berrybox Champion Gingersnap continued his exploration, winding up at the litter box as aforementioned, with the aforementioned result. His search for a napping area resulted in a search of higher perches than mere chairs. Snapper liked to sleep high up where he could be more in control of those around him. At home, he was used to a special perch, a cat-sized platform built high on a post in front of a window where he could look out at the back yard. He checked out window ledges and the dresser in the bedroom, where his tail unfortunately moved a couple of things standing there, spilling one of them. He ignored the spilled liquid because he didn’t care for the smell of it.
Finally he came to a bookcase in the living room. It stood on a chest of drawers, the top shelf about six feet above the floor. Although built as a bookcase, only one shelf held books, and few enough of those. The top two shelves were filled with framed photographs and glass and china knick-knacks, which Meg had collected over the years. Snapper didn’t know about collecting. He just knew that the second shelf from the top appeared to be a good place for a nap. Up he jumped, knocking over only one photo in the process. However, getting himself settled required a bit more space than was available without his rearranging the rest of the bric-a-brac. That, without troubling him to any degree, turned out to be impossible without a few of the little ornaments being swept to the floor. Snapper was able to ignore the minor cacophony of smashing glass and china. After several annoyed lashings of his tail to annotate some measure of displeasure with the whole affair, he settled down to nap.
Sam stayed longer at the pub than he intended. When he discovered that the hour was almost eight, he hurried out to find a pay phone. Then he forgot the number he was to call and had to look it up. The first time he dialed, he got a wrong number and was part way through his spiel before the elderly man who answered could get a word in edgewise.
“I don’t know who you are, mister, but either you’re crazy, a crook or playing some kind of joke.” The connection was broken.
Sam swore and tried again. He was a bit flustered when, after three rings, the voice at the other end said, “Hello.”
“This Humphrey?” asked Sam, breathing hard.
“Yes. Are you calling about Snapper?”
“Snapper? Oh, the cat. Yes. Are you going to pay?”
“Well now, I don’t know.” The man at the other end of the phone line did not seem to be unduly disturbed by Sam’s question.
“You don’t know? Don’t you want your cat back?”
“Well yes. He’s a nice cat, but not ten thousand dollars nice.”
“At two fifty a kitten, he must be worth a lot of dough.”
“Two hundred and fifty dollars a kitten? Oh, you mean the price for kittens he sires. Well, I don’t get that money, my dear chap. I just get a set stud fee for his services.”
“Yeah, yeah. You make money offa the cat. I want some of it. And no going to the cops or the deal’s off.”
“The cops?” Mr. Humphrey laughed a hearty laugh. “My dear fellow, I wouldn’t bother the police over Snapper. Neither will I pay you ten thousand dollars. Nowhere near.”
“I expected that. What’s your best offer?”
“Well now, let’s see. I might, just might, you understand, which is not to say that I will, but I might pay five hundred for him. Certainly no more than that.”
“Five hundred! Listen Humphrey, you want to see your cat back, you’d better get serious.”
“Never been more serious in my life, old boy. I would consider paying five hundred, but that’s not a definite offer.”
“Well, you’d better do some serious thinking and come up with a better offer than that. I’m going to call tomorrow morning at nine and if you haven’t come up with ten thousand dollars, you’ll get a parcel by noon with your cat’s left ear in it. You hear me?”
“If you send his ear, or any other piece of him, don’t bother calling because the cat without all his bits and pieces intact is worth nothing. His whole value is in his appearance, you see, and unless he’s all put together, he’s worthless.” The mellow voice was as calm and cool as Sam’s voice was harsh. “No, five hundred would be my best offer, and I’ll have to think about that for awhile. Good bye now.”
Having the phone hung up in his ear a second time enraged Sam, who slung his own receiver onto the hook so hard it bounced off and hit him on the side of the head above the ear. That made him more angry, and he stomped off back to the pub to do some intensive drinking.
Snapper, meanwhile, had jumped down off his perch to do some intensive drinking of his own and emptied the milk dish. He had also had to make room for the liquid by emptying his bladder, and the litter box still did not appeal to him so he was forced to find another location. That accomplished, he decided to search the house for more information about his new quarters. He found a couple of plants in the dining room window that looked and smelled inviting. After tasting a couple of leaves, however, he found them unsatisfactory. In getting rid of them from his stomach, some of the other contents of that organ accidentally came with them, which made a bit of a mess on the carpet, and annoyed Snapper himself. He vented his annoyance by digging the offending plants out of their pots.
To calm his nerves, he went back to the living room window from which he had been so rudely removed some hours previously. There he shredded the sheer curtains with his front paws as vigorously as he could and as high as he could reach. Feeling calmer after that, he decided on another nap, there being nothing else of interest to do. The waterbed in the master bedroom seemed comfortable and the gentle sway after he jumped up on it was soothing as he settled in. It was there that Meg found him when she came home from work after midnight. Snapper had decided to ignore the screams of anger that had erupted from Meg. Each yell was louder than its predecessor when she discovered the various areas of devastation as she progressed through her house in search of the perpetrator of the messes. At the final yell of discovery of the cat on her bed, Snapper decided that discretion was the better part of valor and left before Meg could quite reach him. Unfortunately, by instinct, Snapper extended his back claws as he left the bed and the resulting rip from the bedspread caused a tiny rip in the water bed with the resulting leak, and that only served to increase the anger of the woman who was already sufficiently aroused to cause mayhem.