January 5
While it may have been fortuitous that Pansy retained her name, such details didn’t concern Crazy Cor. He had as many names as his daily stops around Shenango. He was Charlie, Mouseater, Scooter or Newton; every person he encountered called him something different and he answered to every call.
He was large, muscular, a random color mix; his nose was so wide on his broad head he looked a little cross-eyed. He loped down roadways and galloped over fields, happy to be wherever he was and looking forward to wherever he was going.
This vagabond attitude made him a great reporter for the Carrier. On his treks around town, Cor picked up information and stories and took them back to Beam, who organized everything into repeatable items of interest for cats and other animals. Sometimes Beamer gave Cor assignments as he’d done yesterday after Pansy’s departure: “Go out to Redwood Common and see Lilliakilly.”
The big cat first made a stop at the Golden Apple for scraps (where he found Chaos Jones still exiled to a lettuce box on the south landing). Then he took a short nap on Mr. Clavell Ottoson’s porch under the sorrowful countenance of Reuben, the basset hound.
Next was Buell Library, then Ferg’s TV Repair Shop, then down Sessner Street to Sawyer Fabrications—“How’s the hunting, Mouseater!”—then across town to visit Quim, the insomniac raccoon who lived in Perrypark Reserve (and whom Beamer had futilely warned against eating cigarette butts).
By late afternoon, Cor was delivering a yowling solo in front of Anja Nassir’s tile-inlaid double front doors. A majestic tricolor cat jumped into the bay window in response.
Lilliakilly was pure Maine Coon, with elegant tufted paws and luxuriant fur floating from her head to her plumed tail. She lived in a well-to-do home and might have been snooty, but she was a former Home Office placement and now a loyal supporter. She pawed at the window until Anja’s attention was drawn from his case files. The veterinarian opened the door and Cor galumphed past him to give Lillia a body rub greeting that produced sparks of electricity. Then he looked up, cross-eyed, to receive Anja’s pat on the head. As the young doc went back to his work, Cor flopped down between a pair of Anja’s slippers, sliding a big paw inside each one. Cor was crazy about shoes and wore them every chance he got.
“Perfect paw-clodders,” he admired the red brocade footwear snugging his toes. “So how are things, Elsy?” (Cor’s litany of names encouraged him to modify everybody else’s.)
She settled beside his sprawling length. “We’ve got a problem up on Booster Hill. A family of kittens abandoned under an old car—no blanket, no food, out in the cold and they’re only weeks old. Something has to be done—if you hadn’t stopped, Cor, I would have sent a message to Beamer by Carrier.”
“Wicked Whiskers!” Cor leaped up, spinning a slipper across the room. “The Nursing Network been called?”
Lillia flicked her magnificent tail anxiously. “I think so…Mama Pedgie has been up there every day this week.”
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