Catnapped! (7 page)

“The socialite?” Helen said.

“Wouldn’t be the first woman to think she can buy her way out of trouble. There was also something funny going on with Mort and a Gold Cup judge.”

“Funny how?” Helen asked.

“I’ll tell you after we start the cat bath,” Jan said.

Wednesday

T
here was also something funny going on with Mort and a Gold Cup judge,
Jan had told Helen. Then, as if she were waving the cat teaser at Helen, she dropped the subject and prepped Red for her bath.

Jan carried the Persian to a grooming table next to a deep, double stainless-steel sink, filled one side with warm water, then plunked a plastic gallon jar labeled
ORVUS
into it.

“I’m warming the shampoo,” she said. “No cold soap on that pretty coat, right, Red?”

Helen struggled to pay attention, but her mind was racing. She knew the Gold Cup Cat Fanciers’ Association was a prestigious cat registry, on a par with CFA, the Cat Fanciers’ Association, and TICA, The International Cat Association.

The associations recognized and set the breed standards. Cat shows don’t have big-money prizes like horse races, but grand champions or national winners would produce kittens worth hundreds or even thousands of dollars. As for the male cats, boy toys would envy their stud fees.

So what was Mort doing with that Gold Cup judge? Helen
wondered. Giving her financial advice? Or something more personal?

Jan was cooing to the big orange cat. “We’ll need lots of towels and a washcloth for her face,” she told Helen.

“First, we comb Red. Unlike ordinary Persians, Dee’s show cats get combed daily. You have to groom longhairs every single day. When I worked at a grooming salon, I’d see Persians who didn’t get combed by their lazy owners. Their poor hair was so matted, I’d have to cut it and risk a hole in those gorgeous coats.”

“Don’t you brush the cats, too?” Helen asked.

“Never. A brush doesn’t do a darn thing for long hair. We use metal combs. This wide, long-toothed comb is for her coat, and this smaller one is for her head, legs and feet. You start at the head and neck and work down the body.”

Red stretched out perfectly still as Jan combed her thick, glossy coat into a rippling river of fire. Then the cat rolled over and presented her tummy.

“Good girl,” Jan said. “The belly and under the legs are the most sensitive spots, and most cats hate that part. But you’re no ordinary cat, are you, gorgeous? The fur is fine here and tangles easily.”

Helen could almost see Red’s long, silky hair tying itself into knots.

Jan kissed the cat on her broad head, and Red nuzzled her. “Pretty girl,” she crooned.

“Red seems to love the attention,” Helen said. “My cat wouldn’t sit still for this.”

Jan gently combed the fluffy fur on Red’s belly.

“I can’t believe this sweetie ate her own kitten,” Helen said.

“Tried to,”
Jan said. “We stopped her in time. It’s rare, but it happens. Red produced spectacular kittens, but she wasn’t a good mother. Dee bred her the same time as Chocolate, who’s a terrific mom. Red had small litters—usually two kittens—and Chocolate would nurse her kittens, too.”

“And Red didn’t mind?” Helen said.

“She was happy to let Chocolate do her work,” Jan said. “Motherhood isn’t natural to all humans, either.”

“I’m not interested in babies,” Helen said, “though I enjoy my niece and nephew.”

“You were smart enough not to breed,” Jan said. “Red didn’t have a choice.”

Helen was a bit startled by Jan’s analogy, but she understood it.

“Now, lazy old Mystery there”—Jan pointed to the soft, pale gray Persian sleeping on the window shelf—“is a good mom, and she’ll play auntie to the other cats’ new kittens.”

“What’s that mean?” Helen asked.

“Mystery will groom them, play with them and, when the kittens get older, let them jump on her tail and pretend it’s a snake.

“The real surprise is Midnight. Our handsome stud is a good daddy. He’ll visit his kittens and groom them. He looks a little startled when they try to find a nipple to nurse, but he’s no tomcat.”

“Does he hang around with Dee?” Helen asked.

“Mostly. Or reigns in the living room.”

Red patted Jan with her paw. “Sorry, girl,” she said. “We should focus on you. Next, check the nails. Red’s were clipped yesterday. I even remembered the little dewclaws on her front legs. Unclipped claws can really slice.

“Now use the ear-cleaning solution on cotton makeup rounds.”

“They look like the ones I buy at the drugstore,” Helen said.

“They are,” Jan said. “And you’re a good kitty.” Red sat still while Jan delicately cleaned her small, feathery ears.

“She doesn’t like getting her teeth brushed. This cat toothbrush is smaller and softer than a people brush. Its pointed end can reach in back. I load it with chicken-flavored toothpaste.”

“You don’t use people toothpaste?”

“Never,” Jan said. She held Red firmly and gently scrubbed her teeth. “Good girl.”

“Can you show Red if she loses her teeth?” Helen asked.

“Depends on the association,” Jan said. “Some cat owners get dental implants.”

Red shook her head impatiently and Jan said, “There, pretty baby. Almost done.”

She gave Red a Greenies dental treat. “She loves those,” Jan said. “Now comes the fun part: degreasing.”

Jan filled the empty stainless-steel sink with warm water, then gently lifted Red into her bath.

“She’s not fighting or scratching,” Helen said.

“You have to start when they’re young,” Jan said. She scratched the beauty’s broad head, then pulled out a gallon jug of Goop, pumped a generous handful and smeared the creamy gunk all over the cat’s fur.

Helen stared. “That’s a hand cleaner for mechanics.”

“Yep. Works for cats and dogs, too.” Jan worked the Goop into the coat. The fluffy fur was now a flat, sticky mess.

“You’re kidding me,” Helen said. “Thumbs would amputate my arm.”

“She learned to like it as a kitten,” Jan said. “Persians have thick fur, and nature intended cats’ coats to protect them from rainy weather, so you have to work to get them wet. The challenge is getting the water through the dense fur all the way to the skin. If you don’t wet the cat thoroughly, the shampoo won’t get there, either. So you start with the Goop, working it into the coat with water. The Goop washes the cat, and then you have to wash out the Goop.

“Notice how much smaller she seems when her fur’s wet.”

“But strong,” Helen said. “She has a proud chest and sturdy legs.”

“Red has good muscle tone,” Jan said. “She’s a little jock. Don’t forget the tail and the back end.” She rubbed more Goop on the cat’s hindquarters, and Red’s tail plume deflated into a straggle of white-smeared fur.

“Now rinse her completely. Any residue attracts more dirt and her fur will look cruddy.”

Red rested her head on the edge of the sink and closed her copper eyes while Jan rinsed the cat with the warm spray.

“Why did Dee make a big deal out of my noncompete contract?” Helen asked. “She recorded me and called in Gabby as a witness.”

“She did the same with me,” Jan said. “When Mort and I got engaged, I also had to sign a pet-nup—a prenup agreement that if we split, Mort would get custody of any pets he owned prior to our marriage. He didn’t want a repeat of his expensive fight with Trish over Justine. I like Chartreux, but I really want to breed and exhibit Persians. We agreed I could keep any Persians we acquired during our marriage.”

“Were you planning to open a cattery in Lauderdale?” Helen asked.

“Yes,” Jan said. “Mort said he’d cover any legal costs if I wasn’t willing to wait five years. Well, those plans are gone. Just like Mort.”

She sighed and kept working her fingers through Red’s wet fur, gently massaging her and getting out the Goop. A tear slid down Jan’s creamy cheek and splashed in the water.

“Dee’s cautious because she was badly burned by a former employee, Vanessa, who never told her she planned to show Persians. Vanessa quit without notice at the start of the show season. Mystery was on her way to becoming a Gold Cup national winner. But Vanessa’s Elusive Elsah, another Persian, kept racking up more points. When the show season ended, Elsah was the national winner. Vanessa had worked for Dee long enough to learn her tricks, and Vanessa’s nice, besides.”

“What does Dee do that’s so good?” Helen asked.

“Lots of little things,” Jan said. “See the scratching posts?”

She pointed to the slim metal poles. The tight sisal wrapping
started about a foot off the floor. “When the cats are small, Dee wraps the bottom of the columns and trains them to use it as their scratching post. As the cats get bigger, she raises the sisal and the cats have to stand up full-length to sharpen their claws.

“Ever see a cat-show judging table?”

“No,” Helen said.

“It’s actually a rectangle about the size of a restaurant table for two,” Jan said. “The judging table sits on a bigger folding table draped with a skirt for the show. Many judging tables have two posts holding up a fluorescent light fixture. One post is usually wrapped with sisal. The judges love it when the cats stretch their full length to claw that sisal. They can see their bodies easier. That’s a risky move for short-bodied Persians. Stretching up a pole can emphasize a fault. Since so few Persians do it, it may catch the judge’s attention and show Dee’s cat has a well-shaped body.”

“Clever,” Helen said.

“So are Dee’s pet carriers.” Jan pointed to the row of ordinary beige plastic carriers. “Bet you use the same one for your Thumbs, and he fights when you put him in it.”

“Like a wildcat,” Helen said.

“Dee keeps her carriers out with the doors open. Inside are comfortable cushions, toys and treats. The cats go in and out. The carriers are their caves.”

“So they don’t fight the carriers,” Helen said.

“Yep. Dee also uses water bottles instead of bowls,” she said.

Above each metal food dish hung a plastic water bottle with a long thin tube. “See Chessie licking water from that tube? The bottle keeps her fur nice and clean. Persians put their flat little faces in bowls and get their fur wet.

“All the Goop’s gone, beautiful girl,” Jan said to Red. “Now for the nice warm Orvus.” Jan plastered the cat with the shampoo, then rinsed her again.

Helen was getting bored. “Is that it?” she asked.

“Oh no,” Jan said. “Next she gets washed with TropiClean papaya and kiwi shampoo and conditioner.”

“Two shampoos and conditioner?” Helen said. “I don’t use that on my hair.”

She caught her reflection in the window, her dark hair limp and frizzed. “Of course, my hair doesn’t look as good as the cat’s.”

Helen tried to hide her impatience when Jan lathered Red’s sunset orange coat with the sweet-smelling shampoo. “Use the warm washcloth on her face. Be sure to get the gunk out of her eyes and nose.”

After rinsing the cat for the third time, Jan said, “Now we float the coat.”

Tonight, Thumbs gets all the treats he can eat, Helen thought. I had no idea he was so low maintenance.

“Helen, warm those towels in the dryer, will you?”

Jan washed out the sink, filled it again and carefully placed the clean, damp Red in the warm water.

“See how her coat floats? Now I gently squish it and check for bubbles. That means there’s still soap in the coat. Good! It’s gone.”

“Mrreorrrr,”
Red said. It sounded like a complaint.

“I know, baby girl, this is taking too long,” Jan said. “I need a towel, Helen.”

Jan wrapped the cat in the warm towel, and the Persian gave a full-body purr.

“Now do you hit her with the hair dryer?” Helen asked hopefully.

“At last,” Jan said. “We use special dryers for cats.” She squeezed the water out of the cat’s coat with a warm towel. “The coat needs to be blown out to separate all the hair and get it standing away from the body. A Persian coat is too thick to air dry. In warm, humid Florida, we have to dry Persians quickly and thoroughly. Otherwise, we risk ringworm. Besides, a wet cat licking her coat
would smear our work with saliva. Red’s rough tongue can pull out her fur, and when she swallows it, that leads to hair balls.”

“Yuck,” Helen said. “How long does the drying take?”

“Almost as long as the bathing,” Jan said.

Helen tried not to sigh.

“If you do it right, the cat enjoys it,” Jan said. “A cat hair dryer isn’t as hot as a people dryer. Start with her tummy and feet, combing and drying, then slowly work up the cat’s body, blowing against the lay of the fur, and combing to separate the hair.”

The furry sybarite lay on her back, paws flung out, while Jan carefully combed her legs and dried her tummy.

“That is one trusting cat,” Helen shouted over the dryer roar.

“That trust had to be earned,” Jan said. She gently turned Red over and began blowing out her fur. Soon her long coat was a blazing mix of red, orange, and brick.

“With her copper eyes, she looks like a bonfire,” Helen said.

“She’s gorgeous, no doubt about it.” Jan turned the dryer down a notch. “Now, when I do her face, I have to be extra gentle so I don’t dry out her eyes.”

Red shut her eyes, like an actress facing into the wind. “We’re almost finished.” Helen wasn’t sure if Jan was reassuring her or the cat.

“Why do you think there was something funny going on with Mort and a Gold Cup judge?” Helen asked. “Did he date her?”

Jan laughed. “Lexie Deener? No, she’s about twenty years older than Mort. She’s divorced and splashes money around on clothes, boy toys, a classic Jaguar, and her pedigreed Persians.

“Last January, we were out of Orvus and the next shipment wasn’t due for two days. I picked up some at a pet store. Who did I see two aisles up but my Mort with Lexie. I recognized her from past shows and wondered if he was seeing the glamorous judge. I slipped into the next aisle to listen.

“I heard her say, ‘It’s serious. I need at least five thousand dollars to save Blackie.’

“‘I can make you a lot more than that,’ Mort told her. ‘You’ll be able to keep him in style.’

“‘You’d better be right,’ Lexie said. ‘I love him. He’s part of my image.’”

“So Blackie is a cat?” Helen asked.

“That’s my guess,” Jan said. “Cats can run up huge medical bills. Dee spent nearly ten thousand dollars when a Chatwood cat developed polycystic kidney disease.”