Chapter 17

Pyewacket was hit by a car, today. She may be injured or worse. Worse would mean she died after leaving the scene. If we could find her ... we could take her to the vet. But we can’t. She’s not in her normal hiding spots...

We know she was hit by a car because the driver stopped and searched the street.

We heard the squall of tires and looked out the window. Since the auto was sideways in the street, we went outside.

“Problem?” I asked the sixteen year old blonde.

“I think I hit your cat,” she said, sobbing.

Wendy immediately drew her into a hug.

“You stopped,” said Wendy.

“I killed a life!”

Ever practical, I suggested, “You should move your car.”

Wendy waved me away.

A hurried consultation.

“Keys are in it, David,” Wendy said. “Move it. Put it behind the Jeep.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

I moved the car and parked it behind the Jeep. I took the keys out of the ignition. Wendy, by this time, had the girl on the porch. Wendy took the keys.

“Glass of tea, David,” Wendy said. She asked the girl, “Sweet or yankee?”

“Sweet, please.”

“You could use the sugar,” Wendy agreed. “Yes, please.” I took that to mean bring two.

I fetched.

“David?” Wendy looked inquisitive.

“They’re in the pool,” I said.

Just then, a kindle of wet kittens scampered around the house corner and climbed to the porch.

“Were in the pool,” I amended.

“Kittens!” the blonde recommenced bawling, “I killed a mom!”

Personally, I think she’s weaning her kittens.

The vet said we’d find her when she begins to stink ... or she’ll come back on her own ... or never.

At Seventy-three days ... and counting ... the huge balloon that was a cream with orange spots cat with five out of six sharp ends, popped.

As predicted.

The recliner spoke, Oh!

“Sup, Pye?”

Clean towel, please.

Wendy fetched.

Thank you, Wendy.

“Cute!” said Wendy.

Oh!

“Another?” I asked. I placed a book mark and closed my much worn copy of Smith of Wootton Major & Farmer Giles of Ham in hardback and slid off the couch.

“Not a good idea, David,” Wendy said.

“No?”

“Remember the condition of your fingers when Caroline was born?”

Had I mentioned Wendy and I possessed her parents only Grandchild?

My right hand flexed and my left hand grabbed my baby maker.

“I see that you do,” Wendy said.

“Yes,” I winced.

“Pyewacket can’t get at her seducer,” Wendy said.

“So?”

“You’re the closest thing to a male cat in this house.”

“I see,” I said ... and I did. “I’ll just watch from the safety of the couch?”

“Good idea,” Wendy said.

Oh! thought Pyewacket.

Pye thought Oh! six more times that evening. Nine kittens. A kindle of kittens.

Our lives were full of fur balls. Their eyes opened. They began to play. They discovered the swimming pool. Pye learned to swim rescuing kittens ... pretty soon they were spending more time in the pool than the neighbors teenagers.