An Incantation Of Cats

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Laurel always did like to pretend she knew best.

“Something’s not right with this girl,” the slender sealpoint sniffed, her chocolate brown nose quivering over the new client’s glitter-flecked sneakers. Keds high-tops that still smelled of glue, they provided the only touch of light in the visitor’s otherwise all-black outfit. “She’s trouble. I can tell.”

The newcomer, whose ragged raven bob matched her goth-style skinny jeans and oversized shirt, didn’t seem to notice the curious feline inspecting her sparkly feet as she sprawled on the sofa. Instead, she remained absorbed in her phone as she waited for Becca, the apartment’s human resident, to return.

Laurel’s two siblings, who had toys of their own, were not as oblivious.

“Well, of course!” Harriet, Laurel’s creamsicle older sister, didn’t even look up from her post on the windowsill, where she lay preening her lush coat. “If something wasn’t wrong, she wouldn’t be here.” The self-satisfied half-purr in her voice was barely muted as she reached to groom the orange patch that spread across her broad back. “That’s our Becca’s job, after all.”

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