Who's Kitten Who? Read Free Page B

that swept over me as I neared the end of the driveway. I’ve always been a strong believer in that old saying,
Home is where the heart is.
And even more than the softest pillows, the comfiest bed, and a freezer stocked with Ben & Jerry’s, that means my loved ones, both human and animal.
    After an afternoon that still had me in a fog, I was even more anxious than usual to surround myself with all the elements in my life that really mattered. I was glad to see that Nick’s car was in the driveway, a sign that he was home from another long Saturday at the library reading up on torts and contracts and whatever other obscure topics law schools drum into the ambitious heads of their first-year students. His black Maxima was parked next to my clinic-on-wheels, the twenty-six-foot white van that served as my office. Blue letters were stenciled on the door, spelling out the words:
    REIGNING CATS & DOGS
    Mobile Veterinary Services
    Large and Small Animals
    631–555-PETS
    As I let myself into the cottage, I was serenaded by Eric Clapton, thanks to the CD player Nick had no doubt switched on the moment he’d gotten home. That man is positively addicted to classic rock, I thought. I was also instantly smothered in kisses as my two dogs rushed to greet me, both so happy I was home that their claws skittered across the hardwood floor as if they were the Keystone Kops.
    “Hey, Louie-Lou!” I cooed, throwing an arm around my one-eyed Dalmatian. Max, my tailless Westie who, like Lou, was a victim of his previous subhuman owner, jumped up and down as if he were a marionette rather than a crazed terrier. “Hello, Maxie-Max. Were you afraid I’d forget to say hello to you?”
    As soon as he realized his favorite playmate was now available for fun and games, Max sprang across the living room to retrieve his most treasured toy, a pink rubber poodle that was eternally covered in saliva. He never got tired of chasing after it. I dutifully wrested it from his jaws, then tossed it back to the other end of the room. Both he and Lou scampered after it, their body language communicating,
Don’t you just love playing Slimytoy?
The fact was, I loved it as much as they did.
    All this commotion prompted my blue-and-gold macaw, Prometheus, to start squawking his own greeting. “
Awk!
Who’s the pretty birdy?”
    I went over to his cage and stuck my hand in so he could climb on.
    “Welcome home, Jessie,” he greeted me, mimicking my voice perfectly.
“Awk!”
    “I’ve got a special treat for you,” I told him, running my hand along the bright, silky-smooth feathers covering his back. “I’ll get you a piece of apple as soon as I get my bearings.”
    “
Awk!
Prometheus loves apple!”
    As I put him back in his cage, Catherine the Great, better known as Cat, crept over. My lovely gray kitty was clearly feeling her arthritis. Even so, as she made her way toward me, she carried herself like a
grand dame,
someone along the lines of Queen Elizabeth—or perhaps her namesake, the enlightened empress of Russia during the 1700s.
    Cat’s quiet dignity was emphasized by the sudden appearance of the latest addition to my household, Tinkerbell. The spunky orange tiger kitten had joined our family a few months earlier, after Nick found her abandoned in a cardboard box in a field on his university’s campus.
    At the time, she’d been so tiny she fit into the palm of my hand. But that hadn’t stopped her from taking over the entire household. And now that she was nearly grown, she had size on her side as well as attitude. I wouldn’t have thought it was possible, but she’d found a way to wield even more power over the other members of my menagerie. The one exception was Cat, whom she seemed to recognize had earned herself a place at the top. The way the two felines managed to cohabitate was by giving each other a wide berth.
    “Hey, Cat!” I crooned. “Hi, Tink!” As I stroked them both, I cast a fond glance at the most retiring member of my