Miss Calico slipped underneath the fence, but I stopped dead. When I didn’t follow her, she turned, sat and offered a wide-mouthed and very loud meow.
“You did a great Lassie imitation, but this is tricky, little mom.” I glanced right, checking the fence, which seemed to extend forever. It was also covered with that damn kudzu vine, which was as tough as the barbed wire and entwined every inch of the fence. And it hid the barbs that lurked beneath the lush and tricky green vines.
But to my left, the fence turned a corner. I walked that way, and when I reached a post, I wiggled it. It gave enough for me to know that the wood might have rotted some at the bottom-this part of the fence was rusted and old, and not quite as obscured by strangling vines. I used both hands to loosen the post even more, and it didn’t take much for the thing to lean away from me, taking down a section of fence with it.
Being careful not to get stuck by rusted metal, I stretched one leg as far as I could. The fence was still not flat enough, so I used even more force to loosen the post.
Who’s trespassing now, Jillian? I thought. But I hadn’t seen any POSTED notice like Candace had mentioned yesterday. I wondered whether that meant I’d be warned and not arrested if caught by the property owner, or whether a fence was enough to get me in trouble. This time, using the post to hang on to, I extended my leg just past the fallen barbed wire, though I was practically doing the splits. And I don’t think I’d ever done the splits before.
I quickly learned that I’m no yoga goddess. Maybe if I had been, I wouldn’t have fallen.
I yelped in pain as a barb tore through my cotton pants and punctured my flesh. I carefully crawled off the fence, adding new scratches to the ones I’d already sustained in my trek.
“This better be worth it, Miss Calico,” I said to the cat sitting patiently waiting for me to get my act together. “Because now I might need a tetanus shot.”
Checking the back of my thigh where I’d ripped my pants, I saw a small, widening bloodstain. First aid later, Jillian. Let’s find out what this cat is trying to show you.
We traveled over a small hill wild with Carolina jasmine and goldenrod-a beautiful yellow sea. Miss Calico picked up her pace and headed toward more fences. I squinted, trying to make sense of what I saw.
Seconds later I stopped in shock. “Oh my God,” I whispered.
I saw a long, cream-colored metal shed and shiny new galvanized steel fences that looked like the dog runs at the shelter. Bordering these compartmentalized spaces were long sand trenches. They looked like outdoor litter boxes. And not well cared for, either. Very smelly.
They were for the cats.
So many cats.
Five
I had no time to consider exactly what Miss Calico had led me to because just then the shed door squeaked open. I dropped to the ground, the sweet fragrance of jasmine engulfing me and the goldenrod hiding part of me, or at least I hoped so.
I pressed my hand over my mouth to stifle my surprise when I saw him. That darn trespassing professor with the funny name had come through the shed to the cat runs, a notebook in his hand. His long gray hair was tamer than before, and he wore a baggy blue suit and a red bow tie. He looked ready to teach a class at the college.
Somehow I didn’t think the cats would be interested in anything he had to say. From the cries and mournful meows rising into the late-afternoon air, I could tell they were hungry. Very hungry. The sound upset me so much, it nearly brought tears to my eyes.
I resisted the urge to stand up and shout out a few hard questions. The bad vibes coming from that man, the isolation this place offered and the fact that I had no idea what was happening here stopped me. Watch and learn, I told myself. And then get help.
The professor moved to the far end of the runs and took notes as he stopped at each caged enclosure. I raised my head a tad, hoping to see how many cats were imprisoned here. I saw tiger-striped ears, orange faces, torties, black cats-maybe five or six in each cage. Those poor kitties must hate every minute of this. Didn’t he know cats needed their own space? Obviously he didn’t care, because he seemed to have no problem ignoring their cries. But it was tearing me up inside.
After he’d taken his notes at each enclosure, he went back inside the shed. I hated leaving the cats here, but this problem was too big for me to deal with alone. I was about to turn and crawl back the way I’d come when he appeared again, dragging a huge bag of kibble. I was relieved to see him begin to fill cat dishes, but when he stopped halfway down the cement walkway and took the food back inside the shed, anger boiled up into my throat. What about the rest of them?
I wanted to march down to those runs and give him what he had coming, but he appeared again before I could even move, this time carrying a gallon-size jar. He fed the rest of the cats a slimy, red, nasty- looking concoction from the jar, using what looked like a half-cup measure. The cats quieted, and when I wiped the few tears that had escaped from the corners of my eyes, I noticed long red marks on my shaking hand. Apparently I’d scratched myself on the fence, but I felt nothing but the pain of seeing those poor cats having their meager meal rationed out to them. It made me ill.
I lay in the jasmine vines for several minutes after the professor finished his task and had disappeared into the shed again. I could see Miss Calico, her back to me, lying down in one of the jails closest to me. She must have dug under the fence to get in and out. At least she seemed to be housed without other cats that might have harmed her kittens. Since she was on this end, she’d gotten the red slop for her meal. No wonder she’d been out scrounging for food. And she’d arrived back just in time, or who knew what would have happened to the kittens I assumed she was now feeding?
The goldenrod finally pushed me into action. When I started sneezing, lots of surprised cat faces turned my way. One particular tabby locked eyes with mine. He had the biggest, most gorgeous ears, but those eyes-I wouldn’t forget them. I whispered, “I’ll come back for you,” before the next sneeze hit.
I reluctantly crawled away until I was out of sight of that shed, trying hard to keep what was now nonstop sneezes as quiet as possible. I’d paid no attention to what other buildings might be on the property. A barn? A house? I’d been completely focused on the cats. But by now I feared the professor might spot me or hear me any minute.
I clambered over and down the wildflower hill, but not without stumbling on two more unpleasant surprises: dead rats. I wondered whether this was the work of the cats who’d managed to escape and make it to Ruth Schultz’s place. I stepped over them, swiping at my dripping nose. My eyes felt like they were on fire as I started back the way I’d come.
I glanced ahead in the direction of that wicked fence. Surely I could make my retreat without further injury and get back to the sanctuary. I had to tell Shawn about this. Maybe he could help me figure out what was going on with those cats.
The trek back to Ruth Schultz’s farm was taking longer than the trip out, without a calico cat to guide me. It wasn’t like I had any real path to follow. Turned out the lack of a path was the way I was supposed to walk after all. I’d stopped sneezing long enough to hear the weak sounds of a cat meowing.
I turned, thinking Miss Calico had followed me, but no, these mews were persistent, soft and up ahead to my right. I stepped slowly in the direction of the sound and soon found the source: a thin gray cat lying in trampled grass. Another escapee from the professor’s farm? Probably.
The gray made no attempt to move as I knelt and extended a hand. The mews stopped, and sunken green eyes looked up at me. Unlike the other cats I’d been close to, this one definitely needed help. I reached a hand out and gently ran my fingers along the side of the gray’s face. A minute later, he was in my arms and we were on our way without so much as a protest from the cat. He was weak, possibly dehydrated and far too thin for his frame.