Puss 'N Cahoots

matched her straw hat, a small fake peony attached to the pale green chiffon ribbon.
    “She owns an extensive wardrobe.” Joan, despite her pin’s disappearance, smiled. “When Annie divorced Booty, he acquired the monkey, naming her Miss Nasty in honor of his ex-wife.”
    “Low blow.” Harry giggled.
    “Not low enough.” Joan’s grin widened. “Her dresses and ensembles are copies of Annie’s. Annie shopped a lot at Glasscock’s, an expensive store in Louisville, so I bet you Booty pays plenty for Miss Nasty’s frocks.”
    “No!” Harry found this delightfully wicked.
    “How did he remember what Annie wore?” Fair was puzzled, because he wasn’t good at remembering such details.
    “Booty is as vain as Charly about clothes. He even remembers things I wore years ago,” Joan replied.
    “Maybe he’s gay.” Fair shrugged.
    “That is such a stereotype.” Harry punched him.
    “Booty’s not gay, he just likes clothes, fashion. He’s got an aesthetic streak. I mean, he wears alligator belts and boots. I expect the belts alone cost three hundred fifty dollars.”
    “Ex-wife ever see Miss Nasty?” Fair thought that would provoke fireworks.
    “She’s seen her.” Joan’s eyes twinkled. “It was not a successful introduction.”
    “Did they wind up at the same party with the same dress?” Harry laughed.
    “In fact, they did. Booty must have called every friend of Annie’s he knew to find out what she was wearing. They were in Lexington, and I expect the screams could be heard all the way to Louisville, maybe even down to Memphis. Annie vowed revenge, but only after she’d called Booty every name in the book and some we’d never heard before.” Joan paused a beat. “Best party I ever attended.”
    The laughter drew Miss Nasty to the Kalarama box. She poked her fingers in her various orifices.
    “Crude.”
Pewter wrinkled her black nose.
    “Fat.”
Miss Nasty turned a somersault.
    Booty appeared at the in-gate at the other end of the ring from the Kalarama box. Spying his cavorting pet, he hastened toward her. She stopped, stood up as tall as she could. She rubbed her chin.
    “Miss Nasty, Daddy’s coming,” Joan jollied her. “Daddy’s wearing a pink shirt to match your pretty dress.”
    “He’ll beat your red ass until your nose bleeds,”
Pewter, enraged at being called fat, predicted.
    Miss Nasty extracted something unpleasant from her nostril, flinging it at Pewter.
    The cat lunged forward toward the offending creature, but Miss Nasty leapt off the rail, scurrying toward one of the tractors. Skillfully timing her leap, she landed on the back fender, then reached for the back of the seat and grabbed it to swing onto the driver’s shoulders. He swerved but recovered. He knew Miss Nasty, so he made the best of it.
    Booty walked inside the ring. He dangled an enticing piece of orange. At the first pass of the tractor, Miss Nasty was tempted. On the second, Booty turned his back on her to head out of the ring. She succumbed.
    Booty swooped her up amid cheers.
    “He really is wearing an alligator belt and boots.” Harry gasped.
    “You can buy me that for my birthday,” Fair suggested.
    “I think I’d better buy a lottery ticket first.” Harry calculated the expense of the boots and belt. Then she saucily said, “My birthday is in five days, but I’ll pass on the boots. Pass on the monkey, too.”
    “I’ll kill that monkey,”
Pewter fumed.
    “You say that about everything,”
the tiger teased.
    “I will!”
    “You’ll have to brave boogers to do it,”
Mrs. Murphy warned.
    “Or worse.”
Tucker appeared solemn.
    “You just wait and see.”
Pewter ignored the teasing.
    Harry dropped back to her hands and knees again, looking on the wooden floor of the box. “I swear I’ll find your pin, Joan. You know how I get. Don’t despair.”

T he air-conditioner hum awakened Harry, who was accustomed to sleeping with the windows open at home, the only sounds being that of the night. Fair, flat on his back, had one arm draped over his massive chest, the other by his side. He slept hard, but like most people in medicine, one ring of the phone and he’d be wide-awake.
    Pewter snored slightly as she curled up next to Mrs. Murphy. Tucker, on her side by the bed, didn’t lift her head when Harry got up.
    However, as their human friend pulled on jeans, T-shirt, socks, and sneakers, Mrs. Murphy and Tucker opened their eyes. Pewter remained dead to the world.
    Harry slipped into