Canapés for the Kitties Read Free

Roscoe on.”
    It was too true to argue with. Had-I and But-Known all too clearly thought it was the best joke in town to lure poor Roscoe into their catflap and then laugh at him when he couldn’t clear it and jammed halfway through.
    â€œHe ought to know better by now,” Lorinda said. “But he’s well stuck in this time and I’m afraid of hurting him.”
    â€œOh, all right. I’ll be right there.” He slammed down the phone and Lorinda went back into the kitchen.
    â€œAll right, Roscoe,” she said carefully; she mustn’t get caught calling him Pudding. “Daddy’s on the way.”
    Still tranquillized by his snack, Roscoe regarded her amiably. But-Known, perhaps with a belated attack of conscience, was busily washing his face, which was also helping to soothe him. He had stopped struggling, but still looked terribly uncomfortable.
    Had-I had abandoned her food bowl, finding no fun in it if Lorinda was going to be such a spoilsport as to share the munchies with Roscoe, and was perched on a chair watching the others. Now she lifted her head and turned toward the window, aware of an approaching presence before Lorinda could see or hear it.
    It had to be Macho. Taking her cue, Lorinda gently eased the door open, trying not to panic Roscoe.
    â€œSteady on, boy. It’s all right. Don’t worry.”
    Reassurances were useless. Roscoe let out an unearthly shriek at discovering he was moving horizontally through the air at no volition of his own and without human arms around him.
    â€œI’m coming! I’m coming, Roscoe!” The figure at the far end of the garden broke into a shambling run and lurched forward precipitously. “Hang in there!”
    Really, there wasn’t much else Roscoe could do. He swung, suspended by his ample middle, from the catflap, hind legs scrabbling for purchase, and yowled his terror to the skies.
    â€œHere I am! Daddy’s here!” Macho Magee dropped to his knees beside his anxious pet and glared up at Lorinda. “I don’t know why you have to have one of those porthole-type catflaps. It’s antisocial!”
    â€œIt was here when I bought the house.” Lorinda sighed, they had been through this before. “And my own cats,” she pointed out, “have no trouble with it at all.”
    â€œNevertheless, the thing is a menace. You should take it out and replace it with a square flap with one end flush with the floor. That’s the best kind. It’s what I have.”
    â€œIt’s draftier,” she said, without adding that she did not particularly wish to allow Roscoe, however sweet he might be, unlimited access to her house. Nor did she think Had-I and But-Known would appreciate an interloper roaming through their territory at will, however well they got on with him.
    Roscoe had begun purring trustfully and Macho Magee got to his feet to assess the problem.
    â€œIt looks pretty bad this time,” he said fretfully, glaring at Lorinda as though it were her fault. “We may have to dismantle the flap.”
    â€œNo,” Lorinda said.
    â€œMmmm ...” He walked around the door, checking both ends of his cat. “Perhaps, if we grease him ...”
    â€œWe did that last time and he didn’t like it.”
    â€œTrue, and it took him days to get all the butter out of his fur.” Macho took another turn around the door. Roscoe was beginning to look anxious again.
    â€œIf you can work that paw loose from under his chin,” Lorinda suggested, “you ought to be able to back him out then.”
    Had-I and But-Known just sat there and looked superior, quite as though they’d had nothing to do with luring Roscoe to his entrapment.
    â€œI don’t know ...” Macho knelt before his cat again and gently took hold of the paw. “Easy now ...” he soothed. “Easy ... does it ...”
    If his fans could see him now ... Lorinda thought, not