Puss 'N Cahoots

saying.
    Harry was glad to see the cat and dog once they were back at Barn Five. “Where were you?”
    “Investigating,”
Tucker replied.
    Harry shot Mrs. Murphy a hard glance. “See if I let you off your leash again.”
    “Pooh,”
Mrs. Murphy said but thought worse.
    Once Harry and the animals had driven off, Jorge briskly trotted to the old barn, just as the big diesel fired up to back out.

W hat a gorgeous hair dryer.” Harry laughed as she and Joan drove along the back roads of Shelbyville in Joan’s new Jaguar with its all-aluminum body.
    Joan, like Harry, fretted over money. Owning a sports car seemed frivolous, but one day Joan drove into Louisville to run errands and drove out with a richly appointed Jaguar. It was one of the few impulsive things she had ever done. True to form, she suffered a wave of buyer’s remorse the next day, which vanished the moment she slid behind the wheel, inhaled the leather scent, and cranked the motor.
    “I lost my mind.” Joan giggled.
    “I need to take a lesson from you.” Harry could take being practical to extremes.
    “You know what, when you need to let fly, you will. After all, you remarried Fair this spring.”
    “And look how many years it took me to do it.” Harry turned as they passed the back pastures of a farm, the tobacco barns well situated to capture the breezes. “I’m surprised he waited.”
    “He loves you.”
    She turned to face Joan. “I have no idea why.”
    “You’re lovable.” Joan smiled. “And men want a challenge.”
    “I provided that.” Harry inhaled the thick honeysuckle scent as the long slanted rays of early-morning light reflected off the ground fog in swales over creeks and ponds. She changed the subject. “Did you go to the sheriff about your pin?”
    “Yes.”
    “Mom know?”
    “No.” Joan hugged a curve, marveling at the car’s ability to stick to the road. “She won’t notice for a while, because I don’t wear the pin every night.”
    “God, I hope it turns up.” She inhaled again, giddy from the odor. “Will Mom have a fit and fall in it?”
    “No. She’ll look down, fight back the tears, purse her lips. It’s worse than being fussed at. The guilt.”
    “You majored in guilt, all those years of Catholic school.” The corner of Harry’s mouth turned up.
    “I know it! And I still can’t rid myself of it. Makes me so mad. Like this car. I earned this car. I work hard. You know I do, and I love driving this thing, but every now and then I think of the suffering in the world and this wave of guilt washes over me. Well, I’m not going to confession over it. I’m not.” Her voice was determined.
    “I think about suffering, too, but tell me, are we all supposed to suffer? Is that what equality means? We’re all dragged down together?” Harry snuggled down in the seat, then sat up straighter. “Any one of those people suffering in the world, if they had the resources, would buy this car. Why spurn happiness? God gave you the chance. You took it.”
    “Theology by Haristeen.” Joan smiled, since she could always count on a good discussion with her friend.
    “Logic, not theology. There’s precious little happiness in this world. Grab what you can. I don’t mean you take away someone else’s, but grab what comes to you.”
    “But that’s it, isn’t it? If I buy this car I’m polluting the atmosphere. I could send this money to, oh, Uganda and help someone.”
    “First of all, Joan, that’s bullshit. Industry pollutes more than cars. And even if you drove a hybrid, you might not emit as many hydrocarbons, because you’d use less gas and oil, but it would still contribute to global warming. Exhaust is hot regardless of the fuel. You have to drive. When have you ever seen a bus stop out in the country? Right?”
    “Right.”
    “Okay. Furthermore, if you send money to Uganda it will wind up in some corrupt official’s pocket. You don’t even have to send it to Uganda; think of the millions that disappeared earmarked for the victims of Katrina. Give to charity you can monitor with your own two eyes.”
    “You got that right.” She nodded.
    “Every time money changes hands, some sticks. The more people between your dollar and the recipient, the less reaches the recipient. Charity begins at home.”
    Joan laughed, a big smile crossing her radiant face. “I’m sooo glad I bought this car.”
    “And in British racing green. Back when auto racing began, those great races over countryside