Part Two: Beware Cats Bearing Alcoholic Beverages; or Yeah, But Why Does the Car Smell Like Minnows?

Did you miss Part One?  It was yesterday!  Go on -- we'll wait here!

The cat is waiting for me at the top of the stairs.

After a long day at a new job, one in which I am regularly reminded of how very little I know, it’s like a breath of cold, gin-flavored air.

Liza Bean Bitey, of the Minneapolis Biteys, understudy/stand-in for the Blue Man Group and world-class cat-treat mooch, holds the drink out.

The limes have been, as I like to say, pre-squeezed.

I don’t even take off my shoes but instead take a healthy, mid-week kind of sip.

“AH!” I exclaim. 

“Mmm,” the cat concedes.  “Yes.”

I take another sip, set the gin and tonic on the window ledge.  “What’s this about,” I say, pulling my cap off.  I place it on the hook.  “I can’t remember the last time you brought me a drink.”

Immediately upon saying this, however, I realize it’s untrue.  I can, actually, remember the last time the cat brought me a drink.

Oh, no…

“Liza!  Did you wreck my car?”

I run to a front window.

The car is right where it should be, and it looks fine.

I turn around.

Liza Bean Bitey, a remarkably small animal, laughs.  “Oh, Pearl,” she says.  “How do you find your way home every day?”

I frown at her.  “You know I take the bus,” I say.  “The 17W, catch it at the – hey!  That’s a crack, isn’t it?”

The cat lifts a clever paw, winks, taps the side of her nose. 

I pull my shoes off, pick up my drink and walk the rest of the stairs to the second floor. 

I look around.

I turn back to the cat.  “What’s going on here, then?  Why the drink?”

“What,” she smiles.  “Can’t a kitty bring her favorite person a drink?”

I stare at her.

“Oh, Pearl,” she says.  “You’re going to give yourself wrinkles.”

I take another sip of my drink, make a c’mon-c’mon-c’mon motion with my free hand.

“All right, then,” she says.  She jumps up on the couch, pats the cushion next to her. 

I sit.

The cat primly wraps a careful tail around her feet.  “Pearl,” she says.  “It’s time you knew.”

I take another sip of my drink.

Dang.  That cat really knows how to mix a drink.

“Knew what?”

“I took your car last might.”

“Liza Bean,” I say.  “I swear –“

And the cat laughs.

Come back tomorrow for the rest of it – you know I can’t write more than 400 words at a time!