Helen saw a pair of blue-eyed beauties at a waist-high white table. Jan looked like she’d stepped off a romance novel cover, with her creamy skin and what could only be called raven tresses tumbling down her back. She should wear a silk skirt and a bustier, not a pink polo shirt, white shorts and flip-flops, Helen thought.
Jan was combing a white cat’s back, while the cat stretched luxuriously and rumble-purred.
“This is Jan Kurtz and my beautiful baby, Chessie,” Dee said. She scratched the cat’s small, delicate white ears, and Chessie yawned in her face.
“Jan, this is your new assistant,” Dee said. “I’ll be in my office.”
“Boy, do I need you,” Jan said. “Can you start work right now?”
“Absolutely,” Helen said. She felt a surge of triumph. This was easy. “What do you need?”
“Clean the ten cat boxes,” Jan said.
“Scoop them?” Helen asked hopefully.
“No, they have to be emptied, washed and dried.”
Helen’s surging triumph deflated like an old balloon.
“But first, come meet the other cats.”
The floor-to-ceiling glass windows facing the water had a series of white carpeted shelves. A longhaired orange cat lounged on the lowest shelf. “That’s Red,” Jan said. “She’s a spay. She’s being campaigned for a national win this year.”
On the next shelf was a cat whose glowing coat was a river of hot fudge.
“This is Chocolate, and her deep, rich brown looks good enough to eat,” Jan said. “Her coat is dark, long and thick, even in the summer when some Persians blow their coats.”
“Is she a breeding queen?” Helen asked, proud that she knew the term.
“A real queen mother. Choc is bred twice a year and produces the most beautiful kittens. She’s a good mother.”
“Doesn’t that come naturally?” Helen said.
“It should, but it doesn’t. Red showed little interest in nursing and nearly ate one of her last kittens. She was getting a little old for breeding by then, and Dee had her spayed.”
Choc licked Jan’s hand with her pink tongue. “She’s grooming me,” she said, scratching the cat’s ears. “Good girl.”
She patted Chocolate’s broad head and moved to the cat on the next shelf, a soft, pale gray cloud. “This is Mystery,” she said.
“Such a pretty shade of gray,” Helen said.
“Blue,” Jan corrected. “Pedigreed cats are blue, not gray. Mystery is a laid-back kitty. Most Persians are.”
With that, all three cats sat up, ears alert, short tails lashing, avid eyes on the scene outside. Mourning doves and tiny yellow-breasted finches fluttered around a bird feeder heaped with seed. The cats chirped and squeaked.
“Cat TV,” Jan said. “The birds are quite safe—this bunch never ate anything that didn’t come off a store shelf—but the Audubon Society here loves watching their feathered friends.”
Helen pointed to the barbed wire twined around the feeder’s pole like a deadly vine. “What’s that for?”
“It’s Dee’s squirrel deterrent. It doesn’t work. They still steal the birdseed. We wash the cats in that sink there,” she said, pointing to the long, deep metal sink on the wall near the grooming table.
Next to it were two more grooming tables and a shelf of thick white towels. Along the far wall were five wire cages the size ofbedroom dressers. Each held a plush bed, a cat-sized hammock, a carpeted shelf and a rainbow of toys—mice, balls, catnip pillows.
“The cage doors are open,” Helen said.
“When they’re not in season, the cats have the run of the house,” Jan said. “I’ll say this for her: Dee socializes her cats. Some catteries confine them in cages, but Dee’s cats love people. Makes them good pets and good show animals. Midnight likes the front of the house, but the queens hang around here for their baths and cat TV.”
In the corner of each cage was a small litter box.
“There’s your first chore,” Jan said. “There’s a stack of plastic litter boxes over there.
Jan was combing a white cat’s back, while the cat stretched luxuriously and rumble-purred.
“This is Jan Kurtz and my beautiful baby, Chessie,” Dee said. She scratched the cat’s small, delicate white ears, and Chessie yawned in her face.
“Jan, this is your new assistant,” Dee said. “I’ll be in my office.”
“Boy, do I need you,” Jan said. “Can you start work right now?”
“Absolutely,” Helen said. She felt a surge of triumph. This was easy. “What do you need?”
“Clean the ten cat boxes,” Jan said.
“Scoop them?” Helen asked hopefully.
“No, they have to be emptied, washed and dried.”
Helen’s surging triumph deflated like an old balloon.
“But first, come meet the other cats.”
The floor-to-ceiling glass windows facing the water had a series of white carpeted shelves. A longhaired orange cat lounged on the lowest shelf. “That’s Red,” Jan said. “She’s a spay. She’s being campaigned for a national win this year.”
On the next shelf was a cat whose glowing coat was a river of hot fudge.
“This is Chocolate, and her deep, rich brown looks good enough to eat,” Jan said. “Her coat is dark, long and thick, even in the summer when some Persians blow their coats.”
“Is she a breeding queen?” Helen asked, proud that she knew the term.
“A real queen mother. Choc is bred twice a year and produces the most beautiful kittens. She’s a good mother.”
“Doesn’t that come naturally?” Helen said.
“It should, but it doesn’t. Red showed little interest in nursing and nearly ate one of her last kittens. She was getting a little old for breeding by then, and Dee had her spayed.”
Choc licked Jan’s hand with her pink tongue. “She’s grooming me,” she said, scratching the cat’s ears. “Good girl.”
She patted Chocolate’s broad head and moved to the cat on the next shelf, a soft, pale gray cloud. “This is Mystery,” she said.
“Such a pretty shade of gray,” Helen said.
“Blue,” Jan corrected. “Pedigreed cats are blue, not gray. Mystery is a laid-back kitty. Most Persians are.”
With that, all three cats sat up, ears alert, short tails lashing, avid eyes on the scene outside. Mourning doves and tiny yellow-breasted finches fluttered around a bird feeder heaped with seed. The cats chirped and squeaked.
“Cat TV,” Jan said. “The birds are quite safe—this bunch never ate anything that didn’t come off a store shelf—but the Audubon Society here loves watching their feathered friends.”
Helen pointed to the barbed wire twined around the feeder’s pole like a deadly vine. “What’s that for?”
“It’s Dee’s squirrel deterrent. It doesn’t work. They still steal the birdseed. We wash the cats in that sink there,” she said, pointing to the long, deep metal sink on the wall near the grooming table.
Next to it were two more grooming tables and a shelf of thick white towels. Along the far wall were five wire cages the size ofbedroom dressers. Each held a plush bed, a cat-sized hammock, a carpeted shelf and a rainbow of toys—mice, balls, catnip pillows.
“The cage doors are open,” Helen said.
“When they’re not in season, the cats have the run of the house,” Jan said. “I’ll say this for her: Dee socializes her cats. Some catteries confine them in cages, but Dee’s cats love people. Makes them good pets and good show animals. Midnight likes the front of the house, but the queens hang around here for their baths and cat TV.”
In the corner of each cage was a small litter box.
“There’s your first chore,” Jan said. “There’s a stack of plastic litter boxes over there.
Similar Books
