Cat In An Alphabet Soup (Catnap)

‘‘Weel, Baker,” I hear Taylor gabble in his Aberdeen burr, “we dinna hae much time left. This wee burrow is less commodious than the fine castle prepared fair us at the ABA.”

“Och,” flutes Baker, “ 'tis true. At least we canna complain that we air not thegither to the last. A shame that our namesake company maun be so wasteful of its funds for naught.”

And so on. The dialogue puts me in mind of a road companyBrigadoon, not my idea of entertainment for my last wee hours on earth. However, I put my paltry time to good use and manage to extract some verra interestin’ news from the twit-eared twa from the Highlands, no thinks to them. I begin to plan a breakout for us all.

Then, as the sun pumps out its hottest wattage preparatory to taking its last bow and disappearing behind the mountains, an intruder enters our torpid quarters. It is the attendant I call Jug-ears, accompanied by a well-padded doll of no particular pulchritude but with a kind face. I would have at one time (yesterday) described her as enjoying her middle years, but have become sensitive about such labels.

"I cannot believe it,” this indeterminate-age doll trills to Jug-ears. “I have been wanting a pair of cats for my shop—more businesses should have on-site cats; it amuses customers, controls varmints and saves the cats from a life of crime upon the streets. But to think that you have the very kind I want—”

“Right ’cher." Jug-ears stops before Baker and Taylor. "They are growed, though.”

"Oh, I could not handle kittens in my place. These darling fellows are perfect! I cannot believe someone just dropped off a pair of purebred Scottish folds."

“Too old for most folks,” says Jug-ears, who by my reckoning is fifty if he is a day. “We get lots of adult purebreds. Not cute anymore. Say, we are about to close. Can you hurry it up?”

“How long did you say they have been here?”

Jug-ears grins viciously, but she does not seem to notice. “Almost sixty hours. They was ready for the needle.”

"Do you know who brought them?”

Shrug. Jug-ears is not eloquent. "Name is in the book up front. You want me to unlock the cage or what?”

“Of course I will take them. It is incredible; they look just like the Baker and Taylor on the posters. Of course, they are purebreds, so you would expect them to all look alike. The real Baker and Taylor could not be here, of all places.”

“Ma’am, we gotta close. Got work to do back here.”