At the next clowder meeting, Otis made an announcement.
“We got problems in the clowder,” Otis told his cats. “We got cats with drug problems, pica problems, compulsive clawing disorders. It’s gotta stop. If you gotta problem, you need to fix it. And I’m gonna help you.”
Otis explained that each month he would have a guest speaker come to the clowderhouse to address an issue pertinent to the clowder.
“One day somecat will come in and address stalking disorders, another day somecat will come in and address drug use, whatever.” Otis said.
When clowder members stared at Otis in disbelief, Otis stared back. Finally, he shrugged.
“Okay, okay, so guest speakers coming to the clowder house will give us a good front, make us look like legitimate business cats having a business lunch,” he said. “It’ll help those of you who got problems while it will make all of us look legitimate. Kapish? ”
Clowder members nodded and exchanged looks. All were aware of the need for a legitimate cover now that INTERPOLECAT agents were descending on Baltimore. Having guest speakers give talks during the monthly meeting would make the gathering of eleven cats at one location look less suspicious.
All the cats smiled politely at their first guest speaker Her name was Cleo and she was going to give a talk on bulimia.
Cleo was a former model. At eight years of age, she was a slim American short hair with green eyes and long white whiskers.
Cleo told the story of her friend, Sugar Button Murphy, formerly a model, currently deceased. Sugar Button had suffered from bulimia, an eating disorder that was effecting more and more cats.
The story went like this:
Sugar Button Murphy was a tall, Balinese pedigree who modeled for Mew Mew Mix. She had been a cover model for “Cat Chat Times” and had been crowned “American Cat” in 2005 by the American Domestic Feline Association. Her face had become so popular with kittens and cats that when the annual Feline Fox Fur Pageant was held in the fall of 2007, the studio was jammed with spectators clamoring to get a glimpse of the runway beauty.
Sitting in the audience waiting to see their daughter walk the runway sporting the latest fur styles of the season, sat Sugar Button’s parents. Her sire was a tall, lanky, Seal Point Siamese with bright blue eyes. His name was Rocky. Her dam was a Balinese purebred with Bengal like ears and a tail that measured close to twenty inches. Her name was Leak. Together Sire Rocky and Dam Leak made a handsome couple who attracted almost as many photographers as Sugar Button herself did.
Unfortunately, neither Sugar Button’s parents or anyone else in the audience that day suspected the tragedy that was about to unfold.
Sugar Button, intent on fitting into a four-inch cobalt blue cat collar, had been starving herself. While cats were known to starve themselves periodically, they generally did so in protest to the protein portion of the food they were being served and for short periods of time. Intermittently, and unbeknownst to their human owners, such cats generally had a supply of kibble on hand from which they could draw succor. But Sugar Button was not only not eating protein, she was not eating fiber either. And on the day of the runway show, the sudden weight loss resulting from her self-induced starvation, thrust her slim frame into a state of hepatic lipidosis from which she could not recover.
She died at 2:17 p.m. on the day of the Feline Fox Fur Pageant.
The press went wild. Sugar Button, the majority of papers claimed, was the victim of an unrealistically thin ideal set for felines by the entertainment industry. Cat food commercials, cat documentaries and even programs documenting wild cat adventures categorically showcased felines with perfect body-types. Weight, BMI and fur in such felines set an unrealistic body-type sample from which general population felines were forced to draw and, in this case, the press contended, the promotion of unhealthy body type standards had resulted in the death of a beloved celebrity.
Others proclaimed that it was the manufacturers of cat collars who were to blame for encouraging felines to attain unrealistic body weights and the guest speaker was one of them.
“The designers are making cat collars way too small,” Cleo said. “I’m a solid 10 pounds and therefore representative of the average healthy American cat over 8 years old.
“Who wears a four-inch cat collar?” she demanded. “I haven’t worn a four- inch collar since I was four months old!”
While the clowder was applauding their guest speakers, Harley was outside the clowderhouse, watching. He wasn’t watching anything particular, simply sat watching. The clowderhouse, located on the ground level of the brewery, had an entry which was lined on one side by an alleyway and on the other side by the Chesapeake Bay. The water lapped gently at the dock that edged the brewery. The dock had been built years before when the brewery was still active.
It would be difficult for anyone to approach the clowderhouse without Harley seeing them.
Which is why he watched.
But Harvey only watched the alleyway. He did not watch the water. And on this morning he failed to notice the black cat bobbing on the water’s surface, next to the dock. Harvey was first aware that something was wrong when his chest began to burn. He was faintly aware of an acrid odor, the smell of burning fur. But before Harvey could even howl, a severe pain pulsated in his chest and his throat tightened. Unable to breathe, Harvey gasped desperately for air. Finding none he collapsed. Within minutes he was dead. A single wisp of smoke curled above Harvey’s chest.
The black cat emerged from the water long enough to drag Harvey’s body to the water’s edge and push it into the water. Then the black cat disappeared as quickly as it came.