How To Tail a Cat by Rebecca M. Hale Read Free Book Online

yet, to move toward the shower.
    Oscar’s niece had landed on the couch’s right side, closest to the kitchen, farthest from the window overlooking the street, the section where the cushions still retained the majority of their stuffing.
    The seating on the couch’s opposite side cratered down into its wooden framework and what was left of the furniture’s inner springs. The upholstery and the support beneath it had been molded into their bouldered-out shape by her uncle, the couch’s previous owner.
    It had been over a year since the woman and her two cats, Rupert and Isabella, moved into the apartment above the Green Vase showroom. During that time, Oscar’s niece had assumed almost every aspect of her uncle’s previous life.
    For some reason, however, she still didn’t feel quite right about taking over his long-established place on the couch.
    Besides, given the inoperative lamp on the opposite end table, the lighting on the firmer side of the couch was far better for reading.
    • • •
    THE WOMAN GUZZLED down a glass of water as she glanced across the sofa’s length to the windows overlooking the street. The glass panes were propped open, letting in a hot, balmy breeze through the slats of the blinds.
    The sudden arrival of Indian summer had inspired anyone who was able to head for the waterfront; the Embarcadero as well as the wide path cutting through Crissy Field had been packed with both people and pets.
    Despite the sunny weather, Oscar’s niece had left her animals at home.
    She had a special cat-adapted stroller, fitted with a net covering to secure its occupants, that she occasionally used to take Rupert and Isabella for walks, but it had been folded up in a closet for several weeks. Also packed away was a set of cat-sized harnesses, one slightly larger than the other, each with leash hooks sewn onto the back straps.
    The woman hadn’t been tempted to try either of these contraptions during that day’s outing. Her cats, she’d found, simply weren’t the best jogging or walking companions.
    First off, Isabella had a tendency to hiss at any dogs they came across. As canines made up the majority of the pet population on San Francisco’s running trails and beaches, this habit led to several uncomfortable altercations—Isabella was unintimidated by size or breed.
    For his part, Rupert would have spent the entire trip howling his demands for a stop at the fried-chicken restaurant.
    The woman knew from past experience; the pair was better off staying at home in the Green Vase.
    • • •
    THIS WAS NOT to say that the cats didn’t express any concerns regarding their person’s earlier whereabouts.
    As Oscar’s niece wiped the sweat from her brow, Isabella leapt primly onto the nearest armrest and issued a disapproving glare. She assumed a haughty sphinx pose, daintily crossing her front feet one over the other.
    The cat knew her person had been out mingling with the canine species. The unmistakable trace of doggy odor on the woman’s clothes indicated she had stopped to pet a number of the offensive beasts.
    “You never know, Issy,” the woman said teasingly. “One day, I might just bring one of those dogs home with me.”
    Isabella turned her head, ever so slightly, and stared icily down at her person.
    • • •
    THE NIECE SPOTTED a crumb hanging from one of Isabella’s white whiskers, likely a remnant of her afternoon snack.
    “Issy,” she said, pointing between gulps of water. “You’ve got something . . . right near your mouth.”
    Isabella’s orange ears swiveled sideways, expressing regal affront—as if someone had peeked under the princess’s mattress and pointed out the pea.
    “It’s just right . . . there,” the woman continued, reaching toward the cat’s face.
    Before the finger could touch the encumbered whisker, Isabella shook her head, triggering a violent vibration that removed the offending crumb without acknowledging its presence. Then she immediately