At first light Jason slurped down his cereal, rinsed his teeth, and rambled down the six blocks to his rustic downtown shop, clicking his cane against the old, WPA-era sidewalk the whole way.
That in itself wasn’t unusual; he had about 2,000 square feet of dogs, cats, birds, and fish to feed and let run each morning, plus bedding to change, cages to clean, inventory to count, and supplies to restock. But this Saturday morning was different. More than anything, he really wanted to see how the little kitten was doing.
Sure enough, when he looked into the dusty front window showcase, he found the ten kittens entwined like a yarn ball, snoring, with little more than a paw, tail, ear, or back showing from any one of them. The dogs started their usual welcoming howls as Jason jiggled the lock on his security door, and the puppies and birds chimed in as he fiddled with the rusty keys to his father’s original glass door, its pane still smeared from their Depression-era coal stove. By the time Jason set foot into his shop, about half the kittens were prancing about, wide awake and ready to eat. The other half still slept. A five-alarm fire wouldn’t have roused them.
Bridget, new to the morning ritual, hung from the wire roof of their cage. Her brown eyes flared wide and wild at the commotion. Her hair shot straight out like porcupine quills, and her tail whipped at anything that neared her.
That’s how she remained when Pepper came to visit.
Pep, you see, often helped Jason prepare his shop on Saturday and Sunday mornings. He had the time, since his veterinary office didn’t open on weekends except for emergencies, and he liked to assist his life-long friend – though he would never let Jason know how he felt about that. To Pepper, it was just like playing cards. Throwing out used newspaper and washing down cages offered a good time to argue. But this Saturday, Pepper also was curious about how the little kitten was doing, and so he arrived at the front window not too long after Jason himself – just in time to see the other kittens piling up beneath Bridget, trying to grab her tail as it twitched about.
“What’cha doing out there?” Jason called to the veterinarian. “Come on in, Pep! You could’ve had the canary cages swept by now!”
“Just checking on our little friend,” said Pepper, propping open the outer security door.
“Yeah, well, they were all a bundle this morning.”
Setting aside his broom, Jason joined his friend beside the kitten cage. Pepper was busy easing Bridget’s claws free of the wire bars. She resisted, of course, but with the other kittens swiping at her twisting tail like it was a catnip mouse, it didn’t take long for her distractions to get the best of her so that she fell, crashing into a pile of her comrades. Almost upon landing she was on her feet and scrambling away, leaping to safety on the high back of an overturned pipe covered in old carpet. There she remained, crouched, pawing at anything that moved through the tunnel.
“Looks like she’ll be all right,” Pepper said with a smile.
“So it does,” Jason agreed. “You did a good job – this time.”
Pepper shared the laugh.
“You just see that she gets someone who loves cats,” the veterinarian said. “If she doesn’t calm down, she’s going to need it.”
So will her master, he knew.
“She’s never been around so many dogs before,” Jason declared. “I saw it last night. They spooked her, Pep, that’s all – all their barkin’ and carrying on. Just like when I got here. But she’ll get used to it.”
Pepper nodded, though not convinced. He’d seen similar anxieties when animals mixed at his office. But sometimes such distress lingered, especially among younger critters.
“Just the same,” he urged, “I’d take care with this one. Don’t let just anyone buy her.”
“Now, Pep! When have I ever done that?”
“Well, you’ve had me guiding you for 39 years.”
“Oh, har to that!”
“But I’m not always going to be here to keep them – and you – out of trouble,” Pepper continued, enjoying his boast.
“Well don’t you worry about that. You can just scurry back to your little practice and don’t worry about those of us who really do something to help these little guys.”
“Scurry? Scurry? Why, you! Oh, heckfire! I didn’t rise at dawn – ”
“Yeah, yeah,” Jason interrupted. “Margaret made you get up.”
Pepper hadn’t finished: “ – and rush out the house – ”
“Down the stairs.” The James family lived in the apartment above their clinic, you see.
“ – and run all the way down here – ”
“Two whole blocks. And at tortoise speed.”
“ – just for you to insult me.”
“Guilty as charged,” Jason gave in, smiling.
“Yes, well, it’s about time you realized it,” Pepper replied. “Just you do as I say about that kitten.”
“Don’t you worry. I’ll find her a good home, once she settles down some. I might even keep her myself.”
But as the day passed, Jason began to have some doubts. Bridget clung to the top of that pipe like a vulture, attacking anything and everything that dared approach her. Only after two hours did she show signs of wearing down, just after he opened the store, but then she discovered the chow bowl and dug in. Renewed, Bridget took to pouncing on each kitten, chasing them around the cage until they submitted beneath her bounding tackles. The customers loved it, though Jason doubted the other kittens shared their laughter. Three times she or her victims knocked over the water pan in their rampaging, and once the chow bowl got rolled across the cage to the sandbox – which soon provided its own challenge. For once Bridget discovered the food, she often returned, crunching down the dry chow with gusto. The other kittens, riled and rounded up in turn, also took to eating more, and so Jason found himself changing the sandbox far earlier than he’d wanted. But that proved the one thing able to still his new kitten. With fascination, Bridget watched each time Jason flipped back the cage top to replace the sandbox liner with fresh kitty litter. Both times she insisted on using the sand before he’d even finished securing the bag, and yet her eyes ever remained on his arms, which seemed to reach from the heavens to restore order to her realm.
Jason realized why she watched him so after the sandbox smell demanded a third changing. Bridget tensed as he approached the cage, eyeing him with something close to appreciation. When he raised the lid, she pounced. Jason yanked his arm back, enchanted with her for trying that. Bridget landed like a gymnast on the cage wall and clung there, staring up with wide, alert eyes.
“Oh, you’re a bright one!” Jason exclaimed, lifting her with care from the wire to set her atop the carpeted pipe. “Go ahead, little one. Hunt me! I’m glad you’re feeling so strong.”
Jason changed that view when he gave the sandbox one last changing before closing up. Only then, as he swung open the kitten cage and Bridget leaped out, did Jason realize she’d been trying to escape all along. It took almost a half-hour of crawling through dust balls, picking up shelves dislodged in her wake, and shooing her away from the fish and birds, before Jason managed to corner and apprehend the wild spotted squirt.
That’s why he returned home weary and late, her snarls and heckles haunting his every step.
So ended Day One. The feline Houdini got better after that.