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Mimjet’s plan to liberate the four cats was very
simple, but to accomplish it seemed impossible when he considered that Bridges,
the retired boxer, was guarding the room.
He wanted very much to E-mail his cousin Agabi, the restaurateur, for
advice. Agabi had once been a
successful thief in India and knew many tricks. Unfortunately, it would be impossible to make the attempt
unless Bridges stopped monopolizing the laptop and left the room. Even if he had the chance, Agabi might
not answer his E-mail soon enough, if he answered at all.
Though
Mimjet knew how to verbally persuade intellectual minds, Bridges was, he
believed, a borderline moron, who would not respond to reasoning of any
kind. It would do no good, for
that matter, to play on his conscience, since Bridges, it appeared, had no
conscience at all. Mimjet had once
seen the ex-boxer remove an unruly guest at Reginald’s orders and then beat him
senseless outside. Bridges hated
Mimjet for what he considered were his ‘heathen ways,’ and yet the pugilist had
a pentagram and swastika tattooed on his chest.
As
Bridges searched for pornography on the web, Mimjet paced back and forth over
the floor, mentally searching for a plan.
After much thought and prayer, the Indian realized exactly what he must
do, and, on the matter of conscience, it gave him a moment of mental pain. He had promised that Francine’s part in
the conspiracy would never be known and she would not loose her job, but, in
order to gain her cooperation, he must make it appear as if she was complicit
in the affair. Early that morning
in the garden, when he and Francine were alone, he told her what they must
do. It took several moments for
the information to be digested in the English woman’s dense mind.
“Tell me again,” she asked incredulously, “how are
we going to spring the cats?”
“I
told you,” Mimjet sighed impatiently, “we will make that moron think they’re
gone.”
“I
don’t follow you,” she passed a trembling hand through her flaxen hair.
“Don’t
follow, just listen this time,” Mimjet counseled gently. “I will join those
four cats inside the closet, and when he goes to get help, open the window,
place the cats in the sack and lower it to the ground. I will, of course, lower myself down
afterwards too.”
“And
where will I be?” She studied him in disbelief.
“You
will be in the get-away car,” he reminded her impatiently now.
“I
will do no such thing!” she said, folding her delicate arms.
He
wrung his finger at her and spoke in his most severe tone: “you will, dear
nanny, because, Reginald will not believe that I did this by myself. Was it not you who brought them into
this house? You, after all, have
the greatest motive: profit. I’ve
already implicated you by stealing some of the shopping money and storing away
some of their food. I’ll mail them
a letter with my accusation.
Otherwise, if you help me, they might blame both of us if they find out,
but they’ll have no proof! These
cats aren’t their property, Miss Francine. They were humans, who’ve been turned into cats!”
“You
filthy beast!” she cried.
“Be
packed and ready,” he ordered her gently.
“My uncle Agabi will find you employment if you wish. We do this for a greater good, Miss
Francine. You are a pretty lady,
but you were never really very good at this job.”
******
It
was still early morning. The
Cromwell family was asleep.
It was a perfect time, Mimjet was certain, to rescue the cats. When Bridges left to relieve
himself, which also meant he was going to have himself another smoke, Mimjet,
who had been forbidden to be in the room alone with the cats but had gained
Turner’s confidence, grabbed a large sack and then a length of rope Indira and
Maj had thrown up to him from the yard below. He then called something in Bengali to them and then began
gathering up the cats and dropping them into the closet one-by-one.
“Hey,
careful with the ribs!” Ed hissed, as he was transported across the room.
Buck
scampered eagerly into the closet, purring with expectation as he joined Tom and
Ed. Jim, who was sound asleep,
was, of course, picked up with his cushion and didn’t awaken as Mimjet laid him
gently inside.
“All
right boys, you know the plan!” he called in to them. “It’s now or never. My accomplice is waiting below in her
car.”
The
cats were frightened. Jim, who
awakened in the dark, was comforted by the mental exchange of his comrades
around him. Their fate was totally
in Mimjet’s hands. If he failed,
they would be scientific curiosities the rest of their lives. Francine, who sat numbly in her car,
answered her cell phone, and listened to Mimjet’s command: “Start your engine
and drive up to the side of the house.”
“I
had to leave half of my clothes in that house!” She almost wept.
“I
will buy you new clothes,” Mimjet promised, as he climbed into the closet with
the cats. “What you do now is the most important thing you’ve done in your
short unspectacular life!”
At
that point, Mimjet turned off his cell phone and prayed silently to
himself. Within moments, Bridges
was entering the room with a lunch he had made for himself. When he realized the room was empty and
saw the open window, he came to the conclusion that Mimjet was certain he would
make. In typical English jargon he
cried, “Someone pinched the cats!”
Beside
himself with rage, the pugilist stormed around the room. His well-groomed hair, moustache, and
chiseled features belied his long years in the ring. Having heard the commotion inside, Turner, a large,
overweight fellow, charged into the room.
Only a moment later Veronica, Agnes, the cook, and the gardeners Clyde
and Earl came running up the stairs.
When they saw the empty room, pink slips loomed in their overwrought
minds.
“Where
did they go Bridges?” Turner asked the pugilist, a faint smell of rum
detectable on his breath.
“You
were standing at the bleeding door, you tell me, you bleeding imbecile!”
Bridges shot back.
“This
ain’t my fault!” Turner cried defensibly. “You watch your tone!” He looked
menacingly at the smaller man.
Veronica
and Agnes, who would share the blame when the Cromwells returned from town,
looked accusingly at the two men.
“He
couldn’t even watch four cats!” Agnes murmured to Veronica.
“Will,
it sure ain’t my fault, deary,” Veronica shook her head. “All I done is brought
up them bags of cat food and litter.
I ain’t laid eyes on them since.”
“All
we done is bring up the sand,” said Clyde, looking back at Earl.
“Let’s spread out,” ordered Bridges, “they can’t be
far!” “I’ll check the top floor,” cried the pugilist.
“I’ll
cover the bottom,” said Turner
“Agnes,
Clyde, Earl, and I will check the grounds,” promised Veronica. “You blokes
better find them cats before the Cromwells wake up!”
******
With
the room now empty, Mimjet acted quickly.
All four cats were stuffed into the sack, with poor Jim whimpering the
entire time. “Easy does it
Mimjet!” Buck could not help transmitting. After tying the bag tightly with rope, Mimjet lowered it
down to Indira and Maj, who swiftly untied the knot, and ran together with the
bag toward the car. A stream of
invectives and blasphemies flowed from Jim’s mind into the other cats’ heads.
“Oh,
I remember my Dickens now, I surely do,” Mimjet mumbled frantically as he tied
the end of the rope to Reginald’s massive desk and then began the more
difficult task of climbing down the line. “It is a far, far better thing that I
do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to than I
have ever known.” “Yes in deed, I’m like Rumplestiltskin,” he murmured
giddily. “If Bridges catches me, I
am also like Sidney Carton in Dickens’s Tail of Two Cities, for I am dead…. I
must save the cats, but I must also save myself!”
Indira and Maj, who had helped Francine
load up the car, now dumped their precious cargo into the back seat and climbed
in themselves. When Mimjet reached
the ground, he thanked Vishnu, Shiva, Buddha, and the Christian god Jesus and
began running frantically across the lawn. Clyde and Earl, who were combing this portion of the
grounds, spotted Mimjet, but the gardeners were Mimjet’s friends and saluted
him as he passed.
“Godspeed!”
Earl called out in parting now. “This house won’t be the same without you!”
With
a wry smile, Clyde asked Mimjet as he approached the vehicle. “Was it worth it,
you crazy Hindu? You’ve thrown
away your jobs for those stupid cats!”
“It
was worth it my friends,” Mimjet cried out as he climbed into the front seat of
the car. “These are not just cats,
they are magical cats—blessed by the gods!”
******
By
now Bridges and Turner had returned to Reginald’s study and looked out the
window in time to see Francine’s car pull away from the curb, move quickly
around the circular driveway and whiz down the private road leading out of the
estate. There was, the two men
realized, no way they could run down the stairs, climb into the limousine and
catch up with the fugitives in time.
More importantly, the overweight chauffer was too winded to try.
“I
knew it, I just knew it,” Bridges pounded the windowsill with his fists. “That
crazy Hindu was behind this. He’s
gonna make a fortune off those cats!”
“No,
Bridges,… that’s not why he did this,” Turner declared reflectively, sitting
down in front of Reginald’s desk and mopping his brow. “…. He really cared
about those cats. I heard him
talking to them; he believes they were sent by the gods. I think he worships those little
beasts!”
******
“You
realize, Mimjet, I’m practically a fugitive now,” Francine complained bitterly,
as they headed south toward Shadowbrook Arms. “When my next employer asks me
where I worked, I will have to say in England. There will be a three year void on my resume for this
city. The Cromwells will tell them
that I’m a thief. I’ll never work
in this town again!”
“If you insist on being a nanny,” Mimjet consoled
her gently, “you can use myself and Agabi for references, but I think you can
do better Francine. Why don’t you
go to college and get your degree.
Isn’t there anything else you can do but take care of someone else’s
brats?”
“I bet I know what she could do,” Jim offered as
Francine thought about her reply.
“Jimbo, you rascal!” Buck chuckled, as the mental
imagery played in all their minds.
“… I haven’t a clue,” she confessed finally, looking
into her mirror at the twins glowing faces and listening to the soothing sound
of cats purring in her car.
“I am thinking, you would make a fine nurse,”
chirped Indira.
“I am thinking, you would make someone a fine wife,”
chimed Maj.
Mimjet laughed softly as he patted Francine’s
knee. For the first time in the
three years they had worked together in the Cromwell’s house, he dared think of
her as a woman, a bit too pale for his tastes but with a fragility that stirred
his imagination now that he was his own man.
“We know what old Mimjet’s thinking!” Buck
transmitted, hopping up on the back of the seat and looking down her blouse.
“You were working below minimum wages for those
people, Francine,” Mimjet reminded her gently. “Anything you do from now on will be better than taking care
of those brats. I’m not worried
about your future, Francine,” he said wryly, reaching back and giving Buck a
pat. “You’re a beautiful woman,
who must cultivate her mind and venture forth into the world!”
Buck was not certain of his own future, but he
looked fondly down at Francine’s breasts, wondering if he too might appeal to
the English woman when he was once again a flesh and blood man. There was something very special about
being a cat now. He was not
worried about competing with Mimjet for Francine’s favors. Mimjet, after all, thought they were
gods!
******
Recalling Tom’s message typed on Reginald’s
computer, Mimjet remembered the Main coon’s reference to Shadowbrook Arms. His own laptop had been left back at
the estate, but, using a copy of the Yellow Pages snatched by Indira and a road
map found in the glove compartment of Francine’s car, he pinpointed where the
apartment complex was on a the map.
Purring and swishing their tales expectantly, Buck, Tom, and Ed jumped
up and down the front seat, while Jim continued to ask those proverbial words,
“Are we almost there?” The closer they came to their destination, as Francine
followed Mimjet’s instructions, the louder and more excited the four cats
became as they waited to be reunited with their friends.
As Buck and his gang were driven back to Shadowbrook
Arms, Sheldon and the girls, now that they had escaped the old woman’s zoo,
scrounged the alleys and streets downtown for untainted food. “The trick,” Sheldon tried to sound
confident, “is to wait for restaurant garbage to be tossed out in back of
buildings.” After waiting for just
the right moment, he directed Tanya and Penny to assist him in salvaging their
first meal from a box of chicken scraps just thrown into a dumpster.
“It’s
fresh out of the pot!” declared Sheldon.
Peering down into the dumpster, the gray Norwegian
forest cat looked smart and handsome as he tippy-toed onto the dumpster ledge.
“I’m
not eating garbage,” vowed Tanya, lingering in the background now.
“Then
starve,” thought Penny, looking back with a sneer. “I love chicken. I wonder if it’s Parmesan or cordon
bleś.”
“Picatta!”
Sheldon meowed jubilantly.
“No
kidding?” cried Penny in disbelief, hopping up alongside of him on the ledge.
“Come on sister,” she called down to the pouting Tanya, “let’s eat!”
Reluctantly
now, the little Siamese leaped up lithely onto the rim as if she was born to
her exquisite form and joined them in the dumpster for the meal.
In
addition to picatta, they found discarded pastries and fresh mashed potatoes,
so that their first full meal as cats turned into a feast.
As
Sheldon and the girls trotted south on the road to Shadowbrook Arms they were
filled with hope for the first time during their nightmare on the street. They didn’t have a clue how the spell
would be broken and they didn’t have the same sense of timeliness effecting the
other cats. Sam and Drew had
implanted the notion in the other cats that they were running out of time
before becoming one hundred percent cats.
Buck and his gang had felt this too. For Sheldon, Tanya, and Penny, the only question was whether
or not India’s death meant they were trapped or freed from the spell. Their main concern, at this point, was
getting back safely to Shadowbrook Arms.
After
filling their little bellies, the two female cats, bolstered by Sheldon’s
optimism, felt as confident as he that they would find their way home. Sheldon was certain that they were on
the correct road and, if they continued due south, would arrive home soon. Suddenly, however, as Tanya began
complaining about the long, tireless journey ahead, another cat appeared on
their path. Unlike the previous
felines that Sheldon was able to “hiss” away, this big tailless, multicolored
cat would not move. It was, of
course, a feral Manx hybrid, and it didn’t respond to the telepathy transmitted
from their minds. It was, in fact,
interested in the females cowering behind Sheldon’s side and was prepared to do
battle to that end.
“Oh
God,” Sheldon heaved a sigh, “this one’s not going to move!”
“It’s
very simple,” Penny decided, a sudden inspiration filling her head.
The
same thoughts naturally came to the other two too. Question: how do you spook a cat? Answer: You scare it!
Do what the feral cat does not expect: human gestures and sounds, done
loudly and jerkily in a variety of unexpected ways.
And
so, as the big tom cat approached the trembling Sheldon, the two females began
jerking around, making spitting and coughing noises, while Sheldon bolted up in
the air and let out a very unfeline howl.
Clearly, in the big cat’s feral mind, he was up against three
inexplicable horrors. The effect
was swift as expected, for he pivoted on his paw pads and ran.
******
To
keep their spirits up as they trotted south, Sheldon told his two companions a
story about Roy, a cat who adopted his family after being abandoned by the
neighbors next door. Neither
female knew his family were actually cat fanciers, so he spun for them quite a
yarn.
“When
the Howard’s moved back to Utah,” he began thoughtfully, “they also left their
dog Scamper, but he was adopted by the Bradley’s across the street…. I was
jealous of Dicky Bradley at first, since my own dog had recently died and, yes
it’s true Tanya, I once hated cats.
But Roy grew on my family, if not on me at first. He had many traits that were strange
for a cat. One of them was that he
thought he was a dog…. Don’t laugh, Penny, it’s true. He even barked and wagged his tail. He was not a friendly cat, I’m
afraid. He would bite and scratch
when we picked him up, and he would growl at us when he didn’t get his way, but
he proved to be invaluable to my family one day…. A burglar tried to break into
our house one night, and old Roy jumped up and latched onto her leg. It was a good thing we made poor Roy
sleep outside, because she was unable to even climb into our house.”
“The
burglar was a woman?” Tanya wrinkled her pink nose.
“Why
not?” Penny shrugged her shoulders. “If cats can bark, women can steal.”
“I
was caught shoplifting when I was twelve,” Tanya suddenly confessed.
“But
we digress,” Sheldon said, nudging the exhausted females on. “…. The lady, who
was trying to rob our house turned out to be the long lost daughter of the
Howard’s next door.”
“Oh,
you’re making all this up!” Tanya rolled her eyes.
“In
our cookie cutter neighborhood the houses looked so similar that poor Roberta,
the burglar, thought she had arrived home.”
“Roberta?”
Penny mused thoughtfully. “Was she pretty?”
“Ugly
as a five iron,” Sheldon began laughing, “but when she tried her key and it
didn’t work, she attempted to go through the kitchen window…. That’s where Roy
came in.”
Sheldon
began to laugh so hard now, he lost his train of thought. It seemed plain to Penny that he had
made the entire story up, but Tanya, who had been majoring in psychology, was
not so sure. Sheldon’s old girl
friend was named Roberta. Half of
the story might therefore be potentially true. As the three cats crossed at a green light and Tanya asked
him why he used that particular name, a familiar specter for cats materialized
on the other side of the street. A
Doberman pincer on a leash began to drag the unfortunate little woman taking
him for a walk toward them as the woman crossed the street. Sheldon, Tanya, and Penny ran in
the opposite direction and ducked beneath a parked van. The dog tore free of its master and
stood outside their temporary haven, barking furiously at the cats
underneath. The woman picked up
the dog’s leash, yanked at it angrily and finally, after a flood of unladylike
curses, coaxed the brute back on its walk.
“You’ve
never forgotten Roberta,” Tanya said petulantly as they continued on their way.
“I can see the symbolism of your story…. It’s not just about Roy, the cat who
barks; it’s about a woman who steals back into your life, but you fight to keep
her memory away. That’s where old
Roy comes into the picture.
Roy is your alter ego…. Scamper’s actually the love that got away.”
“Wait
a minute,” Penny cleared her throat, “that doesn’t make sense. If Roberta, the thief, is trying to get
back into his life, where does Scamper, the neighbor’s dog, fit in?”
“Roberta
represents unrequited love and Scamper represents lost love!” Tanya replied dubiously.
“But
Scamper is a male,” teased Penny.
Sheldon
began laughing again. Soon, Tanya
took Penny’s mental cue and began laughing too.
“Now
it’s become a fairy tale,” she chimed, nudging both of her friends. “Roy, the Barking Cat!”
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