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At one time we had a dog and several cats. The smallest cat, and she was a tiny little thing, had never particularly distinguished herself, except that she was a great hunter.
The dog loved to ride in the car and we usually let him. But one day just after a rainstorm (during which time the dog entertained himself by frolicking pretty energetically in the mud) we needed to go to the store. No way was he tracking all that mud into the car.
At such times, our usual method of preventing him from getting in the car was to run around the car in circles until he got bored and to then suddenly jump in before he knew what was what.
(There are numerous other methods of getting in a car while managing to leave a dog behind, but none of the other ones we had thought of were anywhere near as funny.)
Until that day, this method had always worked. But that day the dog was determined not to be left behind. We ran in circles and he chased us until all our tongues were hanging out. Then we tried chasing him away and yelling at him and opening the doors on the side of the car where he wasn’t and various combinations of the above. Nothing worked. We were getting pretty steamed.
Meanwhile, this little cat was sitting on the rock wall by the driveway watching the action. Apparently our tussle began to cut into her nap time, or something, because all of a sudden, she let go with a blood curdling yowl, jumped down from her perch on the wall, charged the dog, stopped inches from his nose, arched her back, and hissed like no cat of any size had ever hissed before.
The dog made a sound like, “Oops,” the cat took a swipe at his nose and came away with pieces of it clinging to her claws, he turned around and ran down the sidewalk and up the porch steps, and she chased him there.
I yelled, “Get in the car,” everybody did, and when we drove away the dog was standing at the top of the stairs looking completely baffled and the cat was sitting at the bottom of the stairs idly licking chunks of his nose from her claws.
I only tell this story because some cats do some things in this mystery that, if I hadn’t lived through the above tale, I would have thought were far-fetched. I would have thought they were so far-fetched that I would have gotten mad and quit reading. But because of that little cat’s actions that day, I read the things Clea Simon’s cat characters did and thought, “It could happen.”
I liked the main character, a free-lance writer/cat lover who’s into the contemporary music scene in Cambridge, Mass. The plot moved along nicely and, even though I’ve been in a mood lately where I’m clicking a lot of partially-read “free” books over into archive purgatory, I read this one to the end.