Frankie’s Cat-astrophe
A day in the life, Deep Lakes, Wisconsin
I hope you enjoy my November gift to you as a thank you for being a Frankie Champagne fan and subscriber.
A flurry of blackbirds flew over the gray November sky as Frankie Champagne filled the bird feeders outside Bubble & Bake along Silver Creek. Now that the weather turned cold and snow threatened, she hung up a winter suet log for her feathered friends.
Back in the bakery kitchen, she blew on her fingers to reawaken them. Yes, it was time to cave in and get out her winter coat and gloves.
She loved the peaceful solitude of the morning kitchen before the bakers arrived with their chatter and clatter. Not that she didn’t love her crew. Their laughter, singing, and stories filled the kitchen mingling nicely with sugar, butter, and spices. But the quiet gave her a chance to appreciate the day and ownership of the successful business she loved.
She took out some cat food and a small saucer of milk for the newest shop orphan, Dolly, a gorgeous Russian Blue. Dolly had only arrived two weeks ago and was already adopted by a family who would collect her on the weekend. Frankie was happy to enjoy a few more cuddles with the loving kitty.
Except that Dolly wasn’t in her usual spot under the kitchen stove. Frankie looked under the bakery racks, then walked to the wine lounge area to inspect the comfy seating. When she didn’t find Dolly among the soft cushions, she looked up front where the morning sun began to shine through the picture windows. No lounging cat waited there either.
After exhausting her search, she decided to make some lost cat posters in her office alcove, using photos she had of Dolly from her phone.
When Jovie and Aunt CeCe arrived in the kitchen, Frankie explained the puzzle of the missing Dolly.
“Can you hold down the fort while I stick up a few posters around town?” She picked up three bakery boxes. “I’ll drop these off along the way.”
The early morning customer bustle was in full swing when Frankie returned. “Dolly didn’t turn up by any chance, did she?” Frankie asked Aunt CeCe, who was packing up butterhorns for a customer.
Her aunt shook her head, frowning. “Sorry, dear.Don’t you worry, though. Dolly will turn up.” Frankie’s aunt had a way of knowing things, so Frankie hoped her channel to the universe was accurate today.
She trotted to the kitchen and was greeted with a hot oat milk latte from Jovie. “Thought you could use a pick-me-up.”
“Just what the doctor ordered. Thank you.” Frankie tied on a shop apron. “I need to stay busy. Let’s have a look at today’s list.”
Jovie was rolling snickerdoodle balls into cinnamon and sugar for cookies and icing molasses snaps that were cooling on a rack while the other cookies baked.
Frankie went to the cooler and pulled out sheets of buttered pastry to roll out into her signature kringles.
A couple of hours later, Aunt CeCe sprang through the swinging doors wearing a sunny smile. “Frankie, Officer Kevin is here. He’s found Dolly.” She motioned for Frankie to follow.
Officer Kevin, a handsome new recruit on the police force, stood with hands behind his back, beaming.
“Good morning, Frankie. I found your cat wandering over by Dixie’s Diner. Guess he was hungry.” The officer moved his arms to the front, revealing a large gray tabby cat on a leash. The cat looked quite at home in the bakery, probably glad to be out of the cold.
“But Officer Kevin, that’s not Dolly. She’s a Russian Blue, not a tabby, and not a tomcat.” Frankie laughed at the mistake.
“Now Frankie, you just have to take this cat in. I can’t leave it out on the streets. Our local ordinance calls for rounding up strays and taking them to the shelter.”
Frankie swallowed a hard lump in her throat. She knew what happened to shelter cats. She bent down to pet the tom, and he purred loudly underneath her hand.
“See, he’s yours now.” Officer Kevin handed the leash over. “He’ll make a great shop cat, and I’m sure you can find someone to adopt him.”
Frankie groaned at the idea of housing more than one cat at once. “How were you able to get a leash on him? Was he wearing this collar when you found him?”
“No. We carry around collars and leashes in case we come across strays. It’s part of my rookie duty.” Officer Kevin smirked.
Frankie took the tomcat to the wine lounge and looked for a place to settle him for the time being. “I doubt Dolly will want anything to do with you, Graybeard.” Frankie determined the name suited the large tabby whose head resembled a bobcat’s with gray fringes all around.
The tomcat relaxed in front of the electric fireplace and closed his eyes. Frankie left the leash on and returned to the kitchen.
“False alarm,” she said to Jovie. “No Dolly. But now we have a gray tomcat to fuss over.”
Frankie resumed folding kringle dough over the cherry cheesecake filling she made. She’d just begun a cinnamon apple filling, when the kitchen door swung open again.
“I think Mrs. Rosen’s found Dolly.” Aunt CeCe’s skeptical expression didn’t give Frankie much hope.
Mrs. Rosen was barely visible, bundled up in her wool coat, a long red scarf wrapped around her tiny neck several times. Some white curls escaped from the knitted cap with puffy pom-pom on top of her head.
“Hello Mrs. Rosen. I heard you found my cat.” Frankie smiled warmly.
Mrs. Rosen blinked at Frankie through coke-bottle eyeglasses. “Who’s this?”
“It’s Frankie Champagne, Mrs. Rosen.”
“Well, what do you want? It’s too cold to be out on a day like this. It’s going to snow, you know.”
Frankie and Aunt CeCe exchanged worried glances.
“You’re at Bubble & Bake, Mrs. Rosen. You found a cat?” Frankie prompted the woman, while Aunt CeCe guided her to a chair. “Thank you, Aunt CeCe. Could you bring Mrs. Rosen some English breakfast tea, please.”
“Oh, the cat. My neighbor said you were looking for your cat. Oh goodness me, I’m all out of order.” Mrs. Rosen unwrapped her scarf with Frankie’s help, and laid it over the back of the chair.
“I was outside filling the bird feeder. It’s going to snow, you know. Well, my Snooky was yapping like mad, so I went to see what the fuss was about.”
Aunt CeCe was back with tea and a butterhorn.
“Thank you, Miss. I’ll just leave on my coat and hat until I warm up. Now, where was I?”
Frankie knew exactly how Mrs. Rosen liked her tea and stirred in two creams. “Snooky was yapping.” Mrs. Rosen’s dachshund was almost as old as Mrs. Rosen.
“Yes. I checked on Snooky and there it was! Your cat, sitting in my Snooky’s doghouse of all things.”
“And where is the cat now, Mrs. Rosen?”
“In my backseat. It was lucky the cat fit into Snooky’s crate. She jumped right in and made herself at home, just like in my poor doxie’s doghouse.”
“Are you parked out front? I can just go get the cat while you enjoy your tea and pastry.”
Mrs. Rosen handed Frankie her car keys. Frankie went outside to find the old brown sedan parked in two spots, and hanging over the parking lines into traffic.
Frankie started the car, fixed the parking problem, then retrieved the crate from the backseat. Of course, the long-haired gray cat inside wasn't Dolly.
Frankie took the crate into the kitchen and gave Jovie a quick rundown of Mrs. Rosen’s foundling. “This cat has long fluffy hair, probably at least part angora. Definitely not our Dolly.”
“While you tend Mrs. Rosen, I’ll see if this kitty has a collar.” Jovie crossed her fingers.
Mrs. Rosen had finished her tea and butterhorn when Frankie returned to the table. Mrs. Rosen might be getting on in years and she was certainly nearsighted, but there was nothing wrong with her appetite.
“Oh, hello Miss. Did you find the cat?”
“Yes, Mrs. Rosen. Sadly, that’s not our cat though.”
Mrs. Rosen patted Frankie’s hand and clucked her tongue. “There, there. I’m sure this cat will make you happy anyway. Now, I need to get home to Snooky. Can you bring my crate?”
Frankie didn’t know what she’d do with the fluffy cat minus the crate and she puckered her lips, thinking. “Just a minute, please.”
Aunt CeCe ambled over to Officer Kevin, who was still drinking coffee. “Could you please take Mrs. Rosen home? I don’t think she should be driving.”
Frankie peered into the crate at the comfortable angora and was rewarded with a sharp swipe across her nose. Holding her nose with one hand, she lifted the crate up with the other and carried it into her office alcove, intent on making a temporary home for the angora under the desk, blocked off with brightly colored milk crates she used for supplies.
When she opened the dog crate to remove the cat, the angora took another swipe at her face, but Frankie dodged the paw. She scooped her arms around the cat and clumsily swung her into the space under the desk, the kitty hissing all the way. Frankie’s right arm was raked with claw marks and little bubbles of blood rose to the surface.
She bit her lip and tapped down her angry reaction. “Well, Shagatha, I think I won that round. Perhaps we’ll go another round later.” Frankie closed the door and went to the bathroom to tend her wounds.
“Ew, a regular hellcat, huh Frankie?” Jovie poked her head in the bathroom door to check. “Aunt CeCe drove Mrs. Rosen’s car with Officer Kevin following her. He’ll bring back Aunt CeCe afterwards.”
“Poor Mrs. Rosen. I don’t think she should be driving anymore. I’ll ask my mother if she knows how to reach her family. Maybe Mrs. Rosen needs a little extra care.”
Jovie agreed. “But now we have two cats and no Dolly. What are we going to do with them?”
“After we close, I’ll take the strays to Dr. Sadie and see if she can help.”
Jovie went up front to tend customers while Frankie filled apple kringles and began baking them in the commercial ovens.
It wasn’t long before Jovie was back in the kitchen.
“Aunt CeCe’s back already?” Frankie didn’t look up from the dough she was rolling.
“Nope. Guess again.” Jovie raised both eyebrows and shrugged. “It’s raining cats!”
Frankie wasn’t sure she could handle one more cat sighting, but she wiped her hands off and followed Jovie.
“Father Donnelly. Nice to see you. What can I get you today?” Frankie smiled at the priest from her home church, St. Anthony’s.
“It’s not what you can get me, Frankie, but what I can get you! Ta Da!” Father Donnelly held out two boxes taped-together. The boxes were noisy and wriggling.
“What’s this?” Frankie asked.
“Your cat. I saw the poster at Kwik Trip this morning and found this cat sitting in the church confessional!” Father Donnelly lost his grip on the catapulting box, dropping it on the floor. Like a kangaroo, a black cat broke through the tape, and flew across the room.
One glimpse and Frankie knew this cat also wasn’t Dolly. “Oh Father Donnelly. That’s not my cat. It isn’t even gray.”
Father Donnelly shrugged. “You can’t expect me to leave a black cat in the church, for Heaven’s sake. Besides, your shop can house more than one cat, can’t it? You’re like a miracle worker. I’m sure you’ll find a home for the feline in no time.”
“Your lips to God’s ears, Father.” Frankie gritted her teeth. “Jovie, can you box up some date tarts for Father Donnelly?”
The priest grinned. “My favorite. You remembered. Bless you, Frankie.”
Frankie waved, unable to say more without sounding ungrateful. She scampered off to locate the black cat, following its mad dash into the wine lounge.
The scene was not a pleasant one. The tomcat, Graybeard, was fighting off a furious black cat, but poor Graybeard was tangled up in the leash. Still, the gray tabby’s saving grace is that it was twice the size of the snarling black cat. Frankie was more than reluctant to get between the two territorial critters. Instead, she hurried to the kitchen and returned with two dishes of cooked chicken from the cooler.
The black cat claimed one dish and began gobbling the meat, as Frankie calmed Graybeard and removed the leash, so he could head to the opposite corner to eat in peace.
Aunt CeCe, back from Mrs. Rosen’s, stood nearby, her face a portrait of astonishment.
“Good work, Frankie. What are we going to do with all these cats? Especially these two toms?”
Frankie shrugged. “There’s lot of meats in the cooler?” She shrugged and laughed in spite of the situation. Auht CeCe did too.
“I’m going to Dr. Sadie’s now, I think, before more cats show up. On the way, I’m taking down the lost cat posters.”
Frankie only had one cat carrier and decided the black tom, who was the most trouble, needed to be crated first. Aunt CeCe found some bacon and coaxed the black tom into the crate. Once it was latched and the bacon was finished, so was the cat. Blacky continued to make snarling yowls, so Frankie moved him to the back deck, despite Jovie’s displeasure.
“Don’t look at me like that. He’s not going to be out there long. Besides, he’s a street cat, Jovie. With a thick fur coat, I might add.”
Frankie went to her office to check on the angora next, and found a mess. “Oh Shagatha, you’re an escape artist. Purr-fect.” Frankie stood, ready to cry, staring at scattered office papers, some decorated with cat vomit. Little piles of shedded fur spun around the office like dandelion fluff.
When she approached the angora, she was greeted with a hissing spit, as the cat retreated to huddle under the desk.
Frankie mistakenly reached underneath and received a matching claw tattoo on her other arm. “Well, I’m the dummy. I’ll be back, Shagatha.”
She rose and went to the kitchen cooler for another dish of chicken and looked around for something that might contain the fluffy devil. She decided that one of the milk crates with a towel over the top would have to do.
Back in the office again, Frankie set the covered dish of chicken on the top book shelf, then used small bungee cords to tie down a large towel to three corners of the milk crate. She set the dish inside the crate and uncovered it, then waited for Shagatha to notice.
Frankie sat like a stone while the long-haired cat crept out from its spot in slow motion. Finally, after attempting to reach through the slats in the crate for the food, it gave up and leaped into the crate. Frankie bolted upright like a predator and tied down the last corner of the towel. At first, Shagatha kept eating, then began a long, mournful meowing.
“Oh well, at least you’re safe and fed. And look at the mess you left for me to clean up? Meow right back at ya.” Frankie carried the crate into the kitchen.
“Keep an eye on this one, please, Jovie. She’s a regular Houdini.”
The gray tomcat wasn’t in the wine lounge when Frankie returned there, so she went to the bakery counter to see if Aunt CeCe knew his whereabouts, which is exactly where Graybeard was, sidled around Aunt CeCe’s legs, behind the pastry case, purring like a clothes dryer.
“Let’s wait until the bakery closes, and I’ll ride along with you to Dr. Sadie’s. I think this one will sit on my lap without any trouble.
Two women and three cats parked at Dr. Sadie’s office, the women caught in a fit of giggles. “What have I gotten us into this time?” Frankie wiped tears from her face from laughing so hard. Aunt CeCe had placed Graybeard into a jumbo laundry bag filled with cat treats at the last minute, after the muscular cat wanted no part of the car ride. Now, she handed the heavy bundle to Frankie.
“I’ll just carry him in first,” Frankie said. “Keep an eye on those other two, especially the hellcat.” Frankie pointed to her two injured arms and made a face.
Gail, the receptionist, stood up when Frankie walked in, wrestling the laundry bundle. She pointed to the floor scale. “Set that one there. I’ll go get Doctor.”
Dr. Sadie, a friendly face, peered wide-eyed at the bouncing laundry bag, looked at the weight, and jotted it down on a clipboard. “Okay, I’ll help you carry it into exam room one.”
After Dr. Sadie shut the door, she sighed. “Never thought I’d say this, but go ahead and let the cat out of the bag.”
Frankie rolled her eyes, then undid the ties, and stood back as Graybeard bounded out of the bag like a cornered cheetah.
“Looks like you had an encounter with the town playboy,” Dr. Sadie remarked.
“You mean Officer Kevin? I mean, he is Deep Lakes’ most eligible bachelor, but playboy?”
Dr. Sadie laughed, hands on hips. “Not Officer Kevin. I’m talking about this tomcat. I recognize his markings on about a hundred kittens around town. I’ll be more than happy to put him permanently out of commission.”
“You’re not going to euthanize him, are you?” Frankie second-guessed her decision to bring him here.
“No. Just going to clip his wings, so to speak. After that, he’d likely make a nice house cat for someone. Okay, I’m going to house him, while you bring in number two.”
Frankie decided number two was an appropriate term for the angora, and set her makeshift cage onto the office scale.
Dr. Sadie laughed at the contraption. “That’s a genius idea for a temporary crate. What are you calling this one?”
“Shagatha. She sheds and shreds wherever she roams. The name seemed to fit.” Frankie held her arms out toward the veterinarian.
“Good grief. She did a number on you. I have some excellent salve for those scratches. I’ll give you a jar before you leave.” She examined the frightened kitty, who attempted to scratch her, too. “No collar. She needs a bath, but she doesn’t have fleas, just ear mites. And, she’s been spayed, so she might belong to someone. When I clean her up, I’ll check for a microchip.”
While Dr. Sadie doctored Shagatha, Frankie returned with the cat carrier stuffed with Blacky. The cat was big enough to occupy the whole crate, and since he had his head tucked inside his haunches, he looked like a bear cub.
In exam room three, Dr. Sadie opened the crate door and coaxed out the suddenly docile tomcat. She laughed. “Someone turned over this cat to you? It isn’t even close to Dolly's gray-blue color.”
“Right. And I can’t believe what a scaredy cat he is now. Last time I saw him, he was ferociously attacking Graybeard.”
“Typical tom behavior, but I’ll tame the beast with a couple of snips.” Dr. Sadie made a scissor motion with her fingers and giggled. “Maybe this one will make a good house cat, too.”
Dr. Sadie handed Frankie a small white jar. “My compliments to the baker. Those scratches should heal up pretty fast. But since we don’t know where Shagatha’s been lately, I called your doctor and she’s sending a prescription over to the pharmacy. You can’t take any chances with infection, Frankie. I like your pastries too much.”
Frankie thanked Dr. Sadie and met Aunt CeCe in the waiting area. Her aunt handed a box of assorted tarts and cookies to Gail. “For you and Dr. Sadie to enjoy with our thanks,” she said.
Frankie put on her jacket and zipped it up, ready to leave.
“One more thing, Frankie.” Dr. Sadie stood in the waiting area holding Frankie’s cat crate. “You might want to take this one home.”
Inside the crate was Dolly, the Russian Blue, looking wide-eyed. “How in the world do you have Dolly?” Frankie was relieved to see the sweet fur ball.
“Esther Brockton dropped her off about fifteen minutes before you arrived. She didn’t recognize the cat and knew I would take care of her. She said she found her underneath her car.”
“Esther was the first customer this morning. She came in for her weekly butterhorns. But, I didn’t see Dolly anywhere in the shop.” Aunt CeCe recalled.
“You know cats. Never underestimate their power of invisibility.” Dr. Sadie chuckled.
“All I can say is, that’s enough cat-astrophes for one day!” Frankie said.
Joy Ann Ribar writes the Deep Lakes Cozy Mysteries. You can find them here:
I love your story! You are gifted at writing humor.