Mom was at the bathroom sink using a tint comb to touch up the roots of her spiky black hair. She is serious about her hair and her nails. Every hair must be raven black from tip to root, and every nail must be red, sharp, and gleaming. It’s part of her patented witch-queen look. She likes to be intimidating. She says it comes in handy at work.
“Mom, Dad forgot we have a cat.”
“I wish I could.”
“It’s not funny. He just asked me who Barney was.”
“I’m sure he was just distracted—as I am at this moment.”
“He told me this morning that there’s an epidemic of forgetfulness at ACPOD. Maybe he caught something.”
“I’m sure he didn’t mean ‘epidemic’ literally, Ginger.”
“Yeah but what if he did?”
“It’s not all bad. There are several things I would not mind forgetting. How do I look?” She leaned her head toward me. “Any gray showing?”
“There wasn’t any before you started, Mom.”
“Good. That’s when you want to catch it.”
A horrific screeching came from downstairs.
My mother looked at me and said, “I understand we have a cat.”
• • •
I ran downstairs and followed the caterwauling. All the yowling was coming from Barney, who was standing stiff-legged on top of the refrigerator looking down at Mr. Peebles, who had somehow gotten into the house and onto the kitchen counter. Several of the cupboard doors were standing open. Mr. Peebles was digging into the one we used for canned stuff, sorting through it with his paws, pushing aside the baked beans, stewed tomatoes, and various soups.
“Mr. Peebles!” I said. “How did you get in here?”
He looked at me over his shoulder and said, “Merp.”
Barney hissed.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
Mr. Peebles reached deep into the cupboard and clawed out a can of tuna. The can fell to the counter and rolled off the edge onto the floor. He hopped down next to it and looked up at me.
“Mrowr?”
Barney, who also knew his way around a can of tuna, fell silent. Both cats were staring at me with that insistent look—you know the one—where they are trying to eat you with their eyes. Frankly, it was a little spooky.
“Okay,” I said. “You win.” I opened the can and divided it into two bowls. Both cats were twining around my feet, best of friends now that they had a common mission. I put the bowls down and watched them eat. It took about twenty seconds. After they finished eating, Barney turned his back on Mr. Peebles and proceeded to lick his paws, having decided to pretend that there was no strange cat in the house. Mr. Peebles went to the back door and silently commanded me to open it.
“Hang on a minute,” I said. I went to get Barney’s cat crate. If I could coax Mr. Peebles into it, I’d take him back to the Tisks, who lived just a few blocks away. Everybody knew where the Tisks lived. It was the only house in town with a life-size, smiling, blond, blue-eyed Jesus statue in the front yard. But before I could get the crate, I heard the screen door slam. I ran back to the kitchen. Mr. Peebles had somehow opened the door and let himself out. I caught a glimpse of him as he disappeared over the backyard fence.
I looked at Barney. Barney looked at me.
“I’m glad you’re not that smart,” I said.
He lashed his tail and strutted off in search of a DustBot.