Flintkote
Copyright© 2020 by Old Man with a Pen
Chapter 32
The Agency agent said, “Turn right.”
JW turned right.
“Two blocks.”
Two blocks.
“Stop at the white Chevrolet,” she said.
JW stopped.
“State vehicle. Don’t forget ... Monday at the Child Welfare Office.” That was directed at me, then she said, “You too, Princess.”
She gave the kitten a last scruff and put the silver Bengal 7 week old in an empty lap.
A bit of ‘my stop’, ‘excuse me’ and ‘sorry’ and ‘watch your feet.’ The agent dismounted.
“Thanks for the ride. My feet were killing me.” She grinned. It totally reconfigured her face.
Zoe looked stunned, Krys wasn’t much better.
“Who let her on the bus?” Junior wanted to know ... the dungeon had been empty for years ... the confessor was going to be the next occupant.
Nobody came forward.
“Drat!” said Junior.
“I know,” I said. “I wanted to hate her. The kittens seemed to like her.”
“Everybody but Murray.”
About the cats:
When JW and the throng started ‘looking’ at the bus, the fleet of kittens and mom fled the shelter and shade and scurried to the dumpster. Tyche could see Murray push the Wesco store doors open. He ran to the bus yowled and thumped the hood a good one. A sixth kitten ran over to safety as JW cranked the semi-diesel four cylinder engine of the converted WW2 Swedish Army Volvo ambulance.
“A Volvo?” questioned JW.
“Let me call my grandfather,” said the clerk.
Naturally, the females lost all interest in vehicles when Murray ‘introduced’ his progeny. Kittens ... cute kittens ... three silver spotted CUTE kittens ... and a silver mom ... and three Murray copies. Orange with brown spots. Did I mention cute?
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