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?

“Ooo kittens!” Even the Child Protection Agency agent sat in the dumpster lot and allowed the kittens to crawl all over her. String was produced from purses and fanny packs and sticks were cut. String was fashioned into kitten bait and tied to the sticks. Kittens EVERYWHERE!

Silver mom cat looked on nervously, but, Murray had a conversation with her and she promptly went to sleep. Poor mom ... chasing kittens 24 hours a day.

Grandpa drove up in a 1966 Volvo 544 sport and proceeded to entertain the men with tales of WW2 and chasing Germans back to Norway. All of it in heavily accented English.

“Sweden was neutral and we were willing to fight to stay that way. We knew the Brits would invade ... they did it to Iceland ... so we ran out every German patrol that crossed the border ... killed some too. Interned others ... kept their aircraft ... sunk their schnellboots ... kept their fleeing Jews.

“After the war I came here ... fished some ... built the Tour Bus ... worked the lake boats. Retired when the Fitz sunk ... the Lakes ain’t safe after September.

“Married ... daughters ... they married ... nobody speaks Swedish ... wife died ... time to quit. Wanna buy the 544? Two hundred dollars?”

I beat him to the money. What am I gonna do with a 544? ... and eight huge Bengal cats?

Love ‘em.