Fed up

to his schedule, and we always manage to find time for each other.” At least we tried to find time for each other.
    “Oh, did I tell you that Emilio and a couple of his cousins are going to help out at the wedding? They’re going to carry out food, serve drinks, that sort of thing. I thought we’d need a few extra sets of hands, especially people who aren’t in the wedding and aren’t guests. Maybe Emilio can help Josh with the food, too.”
    Emilio and Josh. Josh and Emilio? An interesting combination. I shrugged my shoulders. “I think Josh will be fine. Digger will be here to help him out.” Digger was not only Josh’s friend, of course, but a chef who could be counted on to put out delicious food. Besides, I had no visceral reaction whatever to Digger, whereas the prospect of having Josh work next to the hunky Emilio was all too... visceral, let’s say. “But we could definitely use Emilio’s help with all the other work that will need to be done that day. Anyhow, I’ve got to get going. I have to go pick up Inga.”
    “Who is Inga?” my confused mother asked. “A new friend from school?”
    I laughed and explained how Josh had rescued the white cat from death by Charles River. “She’s at the groomer’s right now. I’m just hoping the owner there didn’t have to shave all her fur off.”
    “Josh is an angel, isn’t he?” Mom said warmly.
    I had to agree. Josh was an angel. I felt scummy for even noticing Emilio. Would Emilio ever save a pitiful cat from death? His dedication to finding solutions to a multitude of environmental crises might save the world, but I couldn’t say for sure that he’d have rescued Inga.
    But I did want to think so.
     

 
    HERE is Miss Inga!” Glenda beamed as she lifted the cat carrier onto the counter. “She looks like a whole new cat, doesn’t she?”
    She truly did. Even peeking through the grated door, I could see she looked clean and beautiful. “I told you I’d come back, little girl, didn’t I?” I cooed to my cat.
    I swear that there was gratitude in Inga’s big blue eyes. Sticking a finger into the cage for her to smell, I felt her touch me with her wet nose. Then she rubbed her head against my finger.
    “How was she, Glenda? Was she a monster?” I was sure that Inga had peed all over the groomer as she had the vet, but I was wrong.
    “She was fine. No trouble at all. I think she knew I was trying to help her. Those were some nasty mats she had, but I managed to just shave off the clumps and let her keep the rest of her coat.”
    “Thank you so much for fitting her in today. How much do I owe you?” I reached for my purse. Even though Glenda gave me a discount because of Inga’s escape from death, I still shelled out a hefty sum. But my money bought me a clean cat no longer tormented by mats that yanked at her skin. As if to celebrate Inga’s rehabilitation, Glenda had tied a silly pink bow between the little cat’s ears. I waved thanks to Glenda and drove Inga back to my condo.
    When we got home, Gato was sitting on the couch, but one look at Inga sent him back to the top of the fridge to mope. I knew that he’d come around in a few days, but I hated to see him even crankier than usual. Gato normally ate dry food, but I kept a small reserve of canned food for special occasions and bribes. I opened a can of salmon and chicken, dumped it in a bowl, and placed it on top of the fridge in an effort to cheer my boy up. Gato didn’t share my opinion that the cat food smelled like garbage. On the contrary, it elicited a steady purr. As Gato scarfed down his meal, I reached up to pet his shiny black coat.
    Then I went to my bedroom, which was the largest room in my small condo and hence doubled as a work space for school and for my summer job. Sitting at my desk, I checked my e-mail, sorted through a few messages about rain barrels, and decided to do another search for information about digitalis.
    Wham! Digitalis was a genus of perennial plants, the most common being foxglove. As the daughter of two horticultural experts, I should have known! In fact, my parents would’ve been horrified to realize how little botanical information I’d absorbed over the years. In particular, I liked the common names of plants and had never bothered to learn botanical names. So, digitalis was a stranger, but foxglove was an old friend. I’d always adored the tall, spiked plants with their showy, tubular flowers.
    Digitalis in the form of foxglove was