“By whom?” I asked.
“Some humans.”
“That’s nothing new.” Yawn. “Human are always committing one crime or another.”
“Yes, but this time — ”
I rose and stretched each of my front paws out one at a time, and then I arched my back to its fullest height as I turned away from him—ahh!—which immediately served to cut him off. It’s amazing how turning your back on someone can have that effect. Then, I began to walk away.
“You’re limping,” he called after me.
“How observant of you,” I said. “Yes, I was wounded in the Cat Wars.”
“I’ve heard of those!” He seemed pleased to know this. “I heard you creatures fought like cats and … ”
I stopped him with a steely glare. “You were going to say ‘cats and dogs,’ weren’t you?” I said.
“No.” He seemed equally embarrassed and offended. “I was going to say … ‘cats and cats’! But never mind that now. I am so very sorry you were hurt. My good chap— ”
“I’m not a chap.”
“Pardon?”
“I’m a girl.”
“Pardon?”
“I’m a lady!”
“Oh. Oh!”
“I’m Dr. Jane Catson. People are always thinking it’s John, but it’s Jane.”
Just like no one ever expects the cat to be a doctor, no one ever expects the cat doctor to be a female. Well, just because no one expects it, it doesn’t mean it’s impossible.
“Yes, well, as I was saying,” he went on. “About the crime … ”
Turning away from him once more, I proceeded toward the house.
“Come along, Bones,” I invited.
“Actually, I prefer Sherlock, Jane.”
“And I prefer ‘Doctor’ or ‘Catson.’ Come along then, Bones.”
I could tell he wasn’t going to leave until I’d listened to his story and, frankly, I did not want him to tell it to me on my front lawn where all the world—at least the neighborhood—could see.
After all, he was a dog.
What would the neighbors think?