Part Four: Another Drink Whilst The Cat Continues Her Story?

“Mmmm?  What do you mean mmmm?”

Liza Bean Bitey, of the Minneapolis Biteys, current holder of the record in the Standing Mouse Jump (212) and former high school wrestling captain, smiles around the cocktail straw in her gin and tonic.

“Fuzzy has repented.”

She looks up, looks toward the bar where she locks eyes with the bartender as she raises her glass.  “And I helped him.”

“You,” I say.  “You helped Fuzzy.  Fuzzy, the cat who broke up with you after getting you drunk first?  The cat who went to jail for Unlawful Impersonation of a Cougar?  The cat who stole cash from you when he only pretended to cover your debt with Pork Muscle?”

Pork Muscle J. Hamfat, local kitty thug, owner/operator of a number of curbside catnip distribution rings and concert promoter, had borrowed Liza Bean $400 in the days following the break-up of her and Fuzzy, an accounting of which will be available in the upcoming “The Second Book of Pearl:  The Cats”.

She shrugs, an endearing gesture.  I reach over and impulsively scratch her behind an ear.

She shakes me off, laughing.  “Really, Pearl,” she says, squirming.  “Public.”

I grin, suck loudly on my drink, twist in the booth.  Where’s that waitress?

Ah.  There she is.

Secure in the knowledge that my having winked and held up an empty glass will result in a fresh round, I turn my attention back to the cat.

“Thanksgiving,” I demand.  “Tell me.  Tell me now.”

She laughs, the sound of bells over water.  “He came as a guest of a guest. “  She pauses.  “You remember Pupples, don’t you?”

I do.  Pupples, jittering, high-energy toady of Pork Muscle, is one of those friends of Liza’s that fits into the scheme of things through his apparent inability to fit, even in one’s imagination, anywhere else. 

I nod.

“Well,” she says, “Pupples brought him along.”

“But why?  That’s what I want to know.”  I nod at Nikki, the waitress, as she sets down two more gin and tonics (extra limes) and two menus.

Liza Bean Bitey smiles up at her.  “Good idea.”  Liza flips her menu open.  “Nikki, honey, we’ll have an order of the tater tots, an order of the cheese curds, the fried asparagus, and the brown sugar babies.”  She closes the menu, hands them both back to the waitress, who dashes toward the kitchen.

Seriously.  I swear I'm wrapping this up tomorrow...