How to Wash a Cat
“I stood where Miranda had left me, in the center of the Green Vase, flummoxed in the fallout from her visit.Isabella hopped down from her perch and sauntered over, obviously pleased by Miranda’s attentions. I stroked her head absentmindedly as Rupert nosed cautiously around the corner of the stairs, every hair fluffed out as a precautionary sensor.Ivan cracked open the front door and leaned inside, a sympathetic look on his face. Monty’s head goosed over his right shoulder, his face cringing in mock horror. “We thought Rupert was a goner.”I looked down at my feet. Instantly recovered from his traumatic experience, Rupert had sprawled out on his back, flopping the fluffy, white pillow of his tummy up into the air. He swatted lazily at my shoelace.“I think he’ll live,” Ivan said, smiling as he and Monty walked inside.“Miranda Richards in the Green Vase,” Monty whistled. “I’ll bet that’s never happened before.”My head was still spinning from Miranda’s barely veiled accusations.
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