Cat Tales (12 page)

Scranton's eyes stared beyond Ferp toward the tom. “I'm not sure it isn't possible. You want me to take him right now?”

Ferp stepped inside the camper. He set the coffee and the bakery bag by the sink. “Better now than later, he's not feeling too much pain at the moment.” He picked Pappy up, scratched him once behind his scabby ear and handed him to Scranton. “Make sure he doesn't get out, you know Church Street's a busy place, especially with the tourists and the ski crowd.”

Pat Esden can be found at her country store in northern Vermont designing with flowers and selling anything that holds still long enough to bring in a coin. When no one's buying, she is either cavorting with
her husband and dogs or is in the attic working on
her current project, a series of fantasy novels set in
present-day New England and upstate New York —
with a few side trips to Unseelie Court and the realm
of the Crane-king.

  
Pat's stories can also be read in
Challenging Destiny #23
and
Mythic Circle # 27.

DRAGON DREAMS

by Shereen Vedam

M
RS. McTAVISH'S daughter drove up as Marina shut the trunk of her Fiat. Marina gave the daughter a quick rundown on what had happened with her mother's dog.

“Finally, good!” she said in a quiet voice, looking over her shoulder where her mother's house appeared dilapidated in the glare of moonlight. Broken furniture was piled haphazardly on the porch. Paint was peeling off the siding and the roof buckled in disrepair.

“My mom couldn't afford him,” the daughter continued. “Several times I've given her money for groceries only to come by a few days later and find the cupboard stocked with dog food and nothing for her. She's got no common sense when it comes to animals.”

Marina, who had her own strong opinion on this subject, kept her peace and bid the daughter good-night. She got into her car and waited for Puddy, a black and white feline, to jump in. He scrambled over her lap and settled down on the passenger seat. She petted him and then leaned past him to scratch the all-black cat, Salisha, lying in front of the passenger seat. On the darkened floor, the petting was done more by touch than sight. Marina took a moment to cherish the warm, furry, and
alive
feel of them both before straightening up to back out of the driveway.

A look over her shoulder before leaving showed Mrs. McTavish and her daughter at the front door watching Marina drive away. The daughter had her arm solicitously around her mother, but Marina suspected the sympathy might not be enough to see the old woman through this night of loss and sorrow.

On the highway, Marina floored it. The little car whizzed up the newly paved surface to the symphony of protest wails from Salisha and contented purrs from Puddy.

“I hate this life,” she told the cats. “That dog should not have become sick that quickly. Lack of proper care is what killed him, not the disease. Mrs. McTavish can barely support herself. What made her think she had the right to take ownership of an animal that would depend on her for care and feeding for the rest of its life?” She leaned her head out the window and gave vent to her frustration by shouting, “People like her shouldn't be allowed to own a pet!”

M
ARINA yelped as she tripped over a rock. The bright orange light from the two suns blinded her as she tried to re-orient herself from moving swiftly in her Fiat along a Florida highway one moment, and then standing in a clearing at the edge of a forest the next. Her two cats were still with her, sitting up calmly, but swaying a little as if they too had experienced a shift. But what had happened to her car?

“You guys okay?” she asked, bending to pet each cat with reassuring strokes.

A shadow passed overhead followed by a roar. Startled, she glanced up to see a dragon swoop overhead past them and scorch nearby treetops with a fiery breath.

The cats, smart beasts, reacted first. They raced for the underbrush. She sprinted after them. The dragon swung away with a strong flap of its leathery wings. The resulting wind almost knocked Marina off her feet. On its second pass, it looked as if it was heading straight for them. Fortunately, they'd crossed the border into the woods.

She dodged around branches and brush that the cats leaped over. An overgrown root tripped her. She fell, calling out in alarm as she rolled along the sloping forest floor, dried pine needles stinging her arms and face. A huge blue spruce brought her to a jarring halt. Her last coherent thought was, why had there been two suns in the sky?

A
T THE SOUND of an annoying, repetitious beep, Marina opened her eyes. Peach walls, starched white sheets, and that clean disinfectant smell suggested she was in a hospital. The high bed with bars on either side of her that she was lying on certainly defied any other explanation. Still, she couldn't help searching for signs of a flying dragon, two suns, or at the very least, those prickly pine needles. The room was spotless and bare except for the bed and a small steel side table with a bed pan on top.

Sighing with relief, she tried to sit up, then groaned as bruises made themselves felt all over her body. Gingerly, she lay back down.

The door opened and a nurse entered. “And how are we this morning, Dr. Preston?” the nurse asked in a cheerful tone.

“We
have a headache.”

“Now, now. Mustn't be testy,” the nurse replied.
“We
have some medication right here for you.” Her eyes twinkled as she continued,
“We
were just waiting until
we
woke up before bringing it in.”

Marina frowned at the cheerful nurse. Her head throbbed in rhythm to all her aching bruises. “Where are my cats? How did I get here? And where am I, anyway?”

“You're at the General. You were brought here because you had a car accident. Your car's been towed to the garage for repairs. The good news is you don't have any broken bones, just scratches and bruises, and a possible concussion. By the way, no one realized there was a dead dog in your trunk until the garage called to say your car smells. But I'm sure now they've removed the source, that'll clear up quickly.”

Mrs. McTavish's dog. Caesar had died. The depressed feeling that had accompanied her as she had left the old woman's house returned with force. “My cats?” she asked, closing her eyes to try to regain perspective.

“Your cats are fine, doctor. They survived the crash with hardly a scratch. The paramedics said they probably saved your life. When the police spotted your smashed up car by the side of the road this morning, the cats were lying on top of you. Their warmth kept you alive. The other veterinarian from your clinic came by to pick up the cats and take them to your home.”

Marina's eyes snapped open at that. John knew she was here? Why hadn't he woken her up when he came by?

The nurse's eyes were wide with envy. “Aren't you lucky, working with such a hunk? Is he single?”

Marina nodded her head and then looked away hoping to discourage further conversation on the subject. It always irritated her how women fawned over John Zigley, her new partner. It wasn't as if he were handsome. His hawk-like features weren't balanced and his bedside manner was nothing to brag about. He always seemed to shout at her. Still, that was no reason to be rude to the nurse.

“Guess the accident's got me all jittery.” She took a deep breath, which resulted in a fit of coughing, her dry throat closing tighter with each hack.

“Dr. Preston, please, stay calm,” the nurse said, fetching a glass of water for her to sip. “You haven't recovered completely from your allergy attack yet.”

“What allergy?” Marina asked, wheezing and trying to catch her breath between sips. “I don't have any allergies.”

“The doctor suspects the pine needles may have been the cause, they were all over your coat and on the cats' fur. Though I can't imagine where you came across them in this area, but anything's possible, I suppose. Now, was there anything else you wanted to know?”

“No,” Marina whispered, her thoughts spinning.

R
ELEASED with strict instructions to rest and recuperate, she spent the first night at home, cuddling with the cats. John phoned to ask how she was and she told, “Stop worrying, I'm fine. You can't get rid of me that quickly.”

His silence worried her.

“What's wrong? I was just kidding.”

“Nothing. By the way, sorry about Caesar. Saw that one coming.”

“It shouldn't have happened,” she said in a hard voice, and then immediately regretted her show of anger.

“We can't tell people how to live their lives, Marina.” John's deep voice was steeped in compassion as it came over the phone line. “That dog meant the world to Mrs. McTavish.”

If the dog had meant the world to her, why hadn't she asked for more medication, or called Marina sooner for help? But she didn't say any of that aloud. This was hardly the time for a debate. She hung up after promising to rest quietly.

B
Y MORNING, Marina was determined to start work. Her bruises had turned shades of blue, green, and yellow, but that was hardly a reason to spend the day lazing in bed. So, she and the cats got into the rental car she'd asked to be dropped off for her; and they all drove to work as usual.

Marina entered the clinic with Puddy at her heals. Salisha lingered by the doorway having positioned herself under the safety of a chair. Before the receptionist could ask too many questions, Marina breezed past.

John was in surgery pulling out porcupine quills from a dog's muzzle. She tried to sneak past him into the kennel area.

Before she'd taken a couple of steps, John's gruff voice stopped her in her tracks. “What the Hell are you doing here?” His voice boomed loud enough to start a howling from the back.

Marina entered the surgery. “I'm fine, thank you very much. And how are you?” Instinctively, she checked on the dog's condition. Luckily, the quills hadn't penetrated far enough into the muzzle to invade the gums.

“Go home.” John's concentration stayed on his work.

Ignoring his instructions, Marina headed to the kennel area. She did a quick survey of each patient awaiting treatment. Puddy sniffed every corner of the room, rubbing his scent along the washtub and cabinets. Salisha stuck her head around the doorway and then raced across the open space, pawed open the empty cage at the end and made herself at home. She padded the plush towel laid out for her inside, beside a bowl of water and one with crunchies. Marina shook her head in amusement at her reticent cat and bent down to pet her.

Her hand contacted scaly skin. Startled, she jerked
back. The dragon's snout was inches from her face. She
scrambled back on hands and knees practically stumbling over her two cats, who raced in opposite directions.

They were in that forest again.

The snout turned to the side, and a golden orb with a vertical pupil peered at her, blinking once. The dragon expelled smoke and she choked on the astringent stench.

She stared at it through watery eyes, unable to believe what she saw. Its snout was at least twice her length. Covered in shiny golden scales that seemed to go on forever, glinted in the morning light. What a terrifying creature! And straight out of legend.

It moved further back, turning its head one way, then another, eyeing her dispassionately. As if satisfied with its inspection, it retreated. The wings spread wide and it stretched its sinewy neck up and let out a bellow that reduced Marina to shudders. Then it swung back down and stared at her with a disconcerting gaze.

Did it expect a reply?

“W
HERE have you been?” John said.

She was on the kennel room floor, with Salisha curled on her lap, and Puddy padding at her shins.

“What do you mean?” What had happened? Why was she on the floor?

“You come in here after I specifically told you to go home, then disappear. Your rental car's still outside. The cats are nowhere to be found. Then suddenly, here you all are again. So, where were you?” John looked exasperated.

Marina remained silent, her hand absently stroking Salisha. Had this last visit with the dragon been another hallucination? Had the car accident somehow damaged her psychologically? But then, where had she gone a few minutes ago? And more importantly, where had the cats disappeared to as well?

“What am I going to do with you?” John asked. When she didn't reply, he added, “Marina, I know you're not happy. Are you thinking of leaving?”

Was she? Had she pushed herself too far? Was she having a breakdown? She'd grown tired of life of late and knew she'd been distancing herself from people. Was this breakdown a sign she'd distanced herself so far, she was losing track of reality?

“Marina,” he said, “why don't we have dinner tonight and talk this over?”