Catboy - Eric Walters [25]
Most of the cats scattered, dropping bits of food and disappearing into the cars. A couple of the cats hissed at me, and King just stood there, standing his ground, glaring. His fur bristled and made him look even bigger. He wasn’t giving up his food.
I bent down, grabbed a rock and skipped it toward him, trying not to hit him. He ran off, giving me a threatening glare before he too disappeared.
“You shouldn’t throw rocks at the cats!” the man exclaimed.
“Maybe you shouldn’t be throwing poisoned meat at them!” I yelled back.
“Poisoned meat?” he said. “What are you—?”
“Get out of here, now!” I ordered. I picked up two more rocks. “Or else!”
My mother rushed forward. “How about if everybody calms down!” she said. She didn’t sound very calm.
“Yes, let’s be reasonable,” the man said.
“Reasonable people don’t poison innocent cats!” I said.
“We weren’t poisoning them!” he said.
“Honestly, we were helping them!” the older woman said.
“Helping them into those cages? You all should be ashamed of yourselves!” I called out.
“Son, we weren’t doing anything wrong,” he said.
“I’m not your son. I’m going to get the security guard and get him to call the police and have you all arrested!”
“Please don’t call anybody,” the man pleaded.
“If you’re not doing anything wrong, then why don’t you want me to call the police?” I asked.
My mother nodded in agreement.
The man let out a sigh. “We’re not harming the cats, but we also don’t have permission to be here. Technically, we’re trespassing.”
“Well, we do have permission to be here,” I said.
“We came in through a hole in the fence,” the younger woman said. She sounded guilty.
“Then since you know how to come in through the hole, you know how to go out through the hole before I call the police. Understand?” I asked.
“Look, let me explain. My name is Curtis. Curtis Reynolds. Doctor Reynolds. I’m a veterinarian,” the man said.
“You’re a vet?” I asked.
“I am.”
“How do we know you really are a vet?” my mother asked. That was a good question. “I could say I was the Queen of Toronto, but that doesn’t make it true.”
“Here, I have some business cards.” He dug into his pocket and pulled out the cards, handing one to me and the other to my mother. In raised letters it said: Dr. Reynolds, DVM, Small Animals and Emergency Medicine. He was a vet.
“So you have a card. That only means you have a computer and a printer,” my mother said.
Another good point I hadn’t thought of. “Even if you are a vet, that doesn’t explain what you’re doing here,” I said.
“What we’re doing is trying to help,” Dr. Reynolds said. “This is Doris.” He gestured to the older woman. “And this is Sarah. We were trying to help the cats.”
“And how do those traps help the cats?” I asked.
“If a cat is badly injured or needs medical treatment, we trap it so Dr. Reynolds can treat it,” Doris said. “When they’re well enough, we bring them back.”
“The food you were giving them wasn’t poisoned?” I asked.
“Of course not!” Sarah said. “What sort of evil person would do that to a living creature?”
“There is something in the food,” Dr. Reynolds said. “We put antibiotics and medications into the food to inoculate the cats.”
“So you really are trying to help them,” I said.
“We’re members of the Feral Cat Association of Toronto,” Dr. Reynolds explained.
“Or F-Cat for short,” Sarah said.
“It’s a group of people who work together to try to help wild cats, feral cats,” Doris said.
“There are a few dozen of us,” Sarah added. “Some people make donations, others donate time to help feed them.”
“Or treat them,” Doris said. “Like Dr. Reynolds.”
It all sounded good, but I was still suspicious. “I’ve never seen anybody here before,” I said.
“We’ve never been here before. We just found out about this colony a few weeks ago. This is the first time we could get here. There are hundreds of feral cat colonies in the city.”
“That’s hard to believe,” my mother said.
“Most people find it hard to believe,” Doris said. “Before I got involved, I had no idea there could possibly be so