Deeply satisfied, Scarface crawled under the house to watch the setting sun. It had been a glorious day. Everything was falling into place, just as he’d planned.
Sebastian’s Lady Jessica had spent her waking hours sobbing for a cat that wouldn’t return. John tried to console her, but they’d both known that was just talk. The truth was, taking on Bridget had stretched their resources to the limit. They couldn’t afford to replace her.
After a few days – maybe a week – Scarface expected Jessica to start putting good food out for him again, and not that stale stuff she’d been substituting in his back-porch bowl ever since Bridget came on the scene. Maybe Jessica would start giving him a little milk now and then, too, when John wasn’t looking, just like she had before. And then, maybe after another week, the lady would resume those little play sessions they used to enjoy. She’d come out to sit on the porch, talking to him and petting him, tossing him sticks and leaves and artificial mice.
John might have suspected, but he’d never truly realized just how much care Jessica had poured out on Scarface. For the moment, the gnarled alley veteran thought that was best. But if all went according to plan, if Scarface played his part just right, the Fergusons would soon realize that adopting him as their own would be a good thing to do. After all, he could be just as loving as the next cat, when he needed to be.
You see, long, long ago, Scarface recognized just how precious a creature Jessica was, and how good a home she could provide. Sebastian had often enchanted him with glorious tales of the foods she would make or the massages she would give. That’s one reason Scarface staked out the Ferguson household as his sovereign territory, for he knew Sebastian couldn’t live forever.
It didn’t concern Scarface when an old man came walking up the cracked and broken sidewalk, making more noise with his cane clattering on the concrete than did his soft, shuffling shoes. The newcomer stepped with purpose into the yard, pausing a bit at Sebastian’s grave before rambling up to the front door. Curious, Scarface followed him. The dusty cat got around the corner just in time to see the man rap that portal with his cane.
John opened the door. Surprise flashed across his face.
“Well, hello, Mr. Scabbard! How are you?”
“I’m fine, Mr. Ferguson, though I’m wondering about you right now.”
That got John’s attention. “Why would you worry about us?”
“I’m not,” the old man snapped, hanging his cane onto his forearm. “But I’m afraid you’re missing something.”
Scarface flexed his claws in anger. What was this interloper doing?
“So we are!” John exclaimed. Calling his wife to the door, he turned back and asked, “Do you know where she is?”
“Oh yes. I saw the little thing this morning down at the park, in the storage area under the old windmill.”
A pink-faced Jessica came alongside her mate, slipping her arms around John’s back. The old man nodded, extended a hand. She took it in hers, shaking them both.
“Mrs. Ferguson? I’m Jason Scabbard. I own the pet shop where John here got your kitten.”
“He knows where she is!” John proclaimed.
New life flowed into Jessica’s eyes. “Oh, thank God!” Then she hesitated, as if torn. “But… I don’t understand. Why didn’t you just bring her back?”
“Well, Mrs. Ferguson, I care about the animals I sell. When I found her this morning clawed and bruised – “
“She’s hurt?” Jessica blurted out.
Jason smiled as he continued. “ – I just had to make sure she wasn’t being mistreated. I can see by your reactions that you care about her. That’s all I wanted to know.”
Jessica batted back tears. “Oh, please come in, Mr. Scabbard! Please tell us all about it!”
They disappeared into the house, but Scarface didn’t hang around to watch. He realized now he’d made a great mistake not killing Bridget when he had the chance. Drat those shepherds for letting her get away! Drat Carl and Butch and the hawk! What’s wrong with this world, anyway? You can’t count on anyone anymore!
But that didn’t matter now, did it? No, it didn’t, Scarface admitted to himself. But he hadn’t lost yet.
Oh, he knew the risks before him. Just as soon as they came to their senses, Jessica would herd John down to the park, they’d rescue their precious Bridget, and Scarface would lose his last chance for a comfortable life. For love and food and happiness.
Harnessing his anger for the unpleasantness ahead, Scarface sprinted out of the yard. There was still hope, if he got to the park first. Then he could finish the task.