Read Online The Cat Who Could Read Backwards by Lilian Jackson Braun - Free Book Online
Authors: Lilian Jackson Braun
Tags: Fiction, General, detective, Suspense, Mystery & Detective, Women Sleuths, Mystery, Mystery Fiction, Mystery & Detective - Women Sleuths, Fiction - Mystery, Journalists, cats, Mystery And Suspense Fiction, City and Town Life, Siamese Cat, Cat owners, Koko (Fictitious character), Mystery & Detective - Cat Sleuths, Jim (Fictitious character), Qwilleran, Art critics
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him."
"Who?"
"Kao K'o Kung."
Qwilleran's face went momentarily blank.
"The cat," said Mountclemens. "Forgive me for forgetting you have not been formally introduced. He is very fond of grape juice, especially the white. And nothing but the best brand. He is a connoisseur."
"He sounds like quite a cat," Qwilleran said.
"A remarkable creature. He has cultivated an appreciation for certain periods of art, and although I disagree with his choice, I admire his independence. He also reads newspaper headlines, as you will see when the late edition is delivered. And now I believe we are ready for the soup." The critic drew aside some dark red velvet curtains.
An aroma of lobster greeted Qwilleran in the dining alcove. Plates of soup, thick and creamy, were placed on a bare table that looked hundreds of years old. Thick candles burned in iron holders.
As he seated himself in a lavishly carved high-backed chair, he heard a thud in the living room. It was followed by throaty mutterings. A floorboard creaked, and a light-colored cat with a dark face and slanting eyes walked into the dining alcove.
"This is Kao K'o Kung," said Mountclemens. "He was named after the thirteenth-century artist, and he himself has the dignity and grace of Chinese art."
Kao K'o Kung stood motionless and looked at Qwilleran. Qwilleran looked at Kao K'o Kung. He saw a long, lean, muscular cat with sleek fur and an unbearable amount of assurance and authority.
Qwilleran said, "If he's thinking what I think he's thinking, I'd better leave." "He is only sensing you," said Mountclemens, "and he appears stem when he concentrates. He is sensing you with his eyes, ears, nose, and whiskers. His findings from all four avenues of investigation will be relayed to a central point for evaluation and synthesis, and - depending upon the verdict - he may or may not accept you."
"Thanks," said Qwilleran.
"He is somewhat of a hermit and suspicious of outsiders."
The cat took his time and, when he had finished looking at the visitor, calmly and without visible effort rose in vertical flight to the top of a tall cabinet.
"Whoosh!" said Qwilleran. "Did you see that?"
On top of the cabinet Kao K'o Kung arranged himself in an imperious posture and watched the scene below with intelligent interest.
" A seven, foot leap is not unusual for a Siamese," said Mountclemens. "Cats have many gifts that are denied humans, and yet we tend to rate them by human standards. To understand a cat, you must realize that he has his own gifts, his own viewpoint, even his own morality. A cat's lack of speech does not make him a lower animal. Cats have a contempt of speech. Why should they talk when they can communicate without words? They manage very well among themselves, and they patiently try to make their thoughts known to humans. But in order to read a cat, you must be relaxed and receptive."
The critic's manner was serious and scholarly. "For the most part," he went on, "cats resort to pantomime when dealing with humans. Kao K'o Kung uses a code which is not difficult to learn. He scratches objects to call attention. He sniffs to indicate suspicion. He rubs against ankles when he wants service, and he shows his teeth to express disapproval. He also has a catly way of thumbing his nose."
"That I've got to see."
"Very simple. When a cat, who is a picture of grace and beauty, suddenly rolls over in a hideous posture, contorts his face, and scratches his ear, he is telling you, sir, to go to blazes!"
Mountclemens removed the soup plates and brought in a tureen of chicken in a dark and mysterious sauce. A piercing howl came from the top of the cabinet.
Qwilleran said, "You don't need an antenna to tune in that kind of message."
"The lack of an antenna in the human anatomy," said the critic, "impresses me as a vast oversight,
"Who?"
"Kao K'o Kung."
Qwilleran's face went momentarily blank.
"The cat," said Mountclemens. "Forgive me for forgetting you have not been formally introduced. He is very fond of grape juice, especially the white. And nothing but the best brand. He is a connoisseur."
"He sounds like quite a cat," Qwilleran said.
"A remarkable creature. He has cultivated an appreciation for certain periods of art, and although I disagree with his choice, I admire his independence. He also reads newspaper headlines, as you will see when the late edition is delivered. And now I believe we are ready for the soup." The critic drew aside some dark red velvet curtains.
An aroma of lobster greeted Qwilleran in the dining alcove. Plates of soup, thick and creamy, were placed on a bare table that looked hundreds of years old. Thick candles burned in iron holders.
As he seated himself in a lavishly carved high-backed chair, he heard a thud in the living room. It was followed by throaty mutterings. A floorboard creaked, and a light-colored cat with a dark face and slanting eyes walked into the dining alcove.
"This is Kao K'o Kung," said Mountclemens. "He was named after the thirteenth-century artist, and he himself has the dignity and grace of Chinese art."
Kao K'o Kung stood motionless and looked at Qwilleran. Qwilleran looked at Kao K'o Kung. He saw a long, lean, muscular cat with sleek fur and an unbearable amount of assurance and authority.
Qwilleran said, "If he's thinking what I think he's thinking, I'd better leave." "He is only sensing you," said Mountclemens, "and he appears stem when he concentrates. He is sensing you with his eyes, ears, nose, and whiskers. His findings from all four avenues of investigation will be relayed to a central point for evaluation and synthesis, and - depending upon the verdict - he may or may not accept you."
"Thanks," said Qwilleran.
"He is somewhat of a hermit and suspicious of outsiders."
The cat took his time and, when he had finished looking at the visitor, calmly and without visible effort rose in vertical flight to the top of a tall cabinet.
"Whoosh!" said Qwilleran. "Did you see that?"
On top of the cabinet Kao K'o Kung arranged himself in an imperious posture and watched the scene below with intelligent interest.
" A seven, foot leap is not unusual for a Siamese," said Mountclemens. "Cats have many gifts that are denied humans, and yet we tend to rate them by human standards. To understand a cat, you must realize that he has his own gifts, his own viewpoint, even his own morality. A cat's lack of speech does not make him a lower animal. Cats have a contempt of speech. Why should they talk when they can communicate without words? They manage very well among themselves, and they patiently try to make their thoughts known to humans. But in order to read a cat, you must be relaxed and receptive."
The critic's manner was serious and scholarly. "For the most part," he went on, "cats resort to pantomime when dealing with humans. Kao K'o Kung uses a code which is not difficult to learn. He scratches objects to call attention. He sniffs to indicate suspicion. He rubs against ankles when he wants service, and he shows his teeth to express disapproval. He also has a catly way of thumbing his nose."
"That I've got to see."
"Very simple. When a cat, who is a picture of grace and beauty, suddenly rolls over in a hideous posture, contorts his face, and scratches his ear, he is telling you, sir, to go to blazes!"
Mountclemens removed the soup plates and brought in a tureen of chicken in a dark and mysterious sauce. A piercing howl came from the top of the cabinet.
Qwilleran said, "You don't need an antenna to tune in that kind of message."
"The lack of an antenna in the human anatomy," said the critic, "impresses me as a vast oversight,
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