| General Fiction posted October 26, 2024 |
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Spies in disguise
The cats from H-E-Double L
by Wayne Fowler
“John, you know Bill is in Iraq?”
Of course, I knew that Barbara’s husband was in Iraq. She’d brought it up a dozen or more times in the small Post Office where I was the Postmaster. Bill worked for a large, private security company with a federal contract. He was responsible for the training of the Baghdad police force. So why did she ask such a silly question?
“He got custody of two palace cats. They were Sadam Hussein’s.”
I waited for a shoe to drop.
“And he can send them to me. But the nearest airport is Chicago.”
Boom! I knew what was coming. Would I drive the six hundred miles (one way) to get them for her?
The date of their arrival absolutely did not work for me. But…
“How about if my brother picked them up, and when it would be more convenient I could meet him in St Louis and do a hand-off, like getting spies from across a border?”
“Would you? Would he?”
Well my sister-in-law, bless her heart, was a cat lover, having two of her own. They would love to. It would be an adventure!
In large measure, the adventure was for the cats – three days aboard airplanes and awaiting flights in airport facilities. Three days in a cage. Food, water, and care the responsibility of no one.
At the Chicago airport in the darkness of a late evening, my brother and my dear SIL were directed to drive to a specific loading dock gate, and only after Cold War fashion security checks were they pointed to a cage set some distance away from any building. They soon learned why.
The cage and its two occupants reeked with dead skunk-type stench, something akin to old death and putrification – imagine rotting flesh, warm throw-up, and skunk, stirred, not shaken.
Despite being January in northern Illinois, they drove the hour-long trip home with all the windows open, desperately attempting to hold their breaths.
As I said, it was the middle of winter – at night. After releasing the cats into the finished basement, with the cage placed far into the backyard, the cats then refused to be captured for cleaning. That would have to await the next day. Except the next day, as well as the day following, they continued to hide, only their disgusting odor and the absence of their food and water giving evidence of their existence.
My SIL’s other cats? Nowhere to be seen or to eat or drink. They refused to show themselves the entire stay of the long-legged, devilish-appearing foreigners.
Finally, trapped in borrowed live trap cages, repeatedly sprayed with deodorizing agents and soaps, and then rinsed in a shower stall, they were tolerably prepared for a trip to St Louis.
I saw the cage, but only as their car sped from the pre-arranged meeting place did I surmise that the exchange had already occurred. I expect the two were miles away before the devil cats were secured in my car.
Flash Fiction writing prompt entry
“John, you know Bill is in Iraq?”
Of course, I knew that Barbara’s husband was in Iraq. She’d brought it up a dozen or more times in the small Post Office where I was the Postmaster. Bill worked for a large, private security company with a federal contract. He was responsible for the training of the Baghdad police force. So why did she ask such a silly question?
“He got custody of two palace cats. They were Sadam Hussein’s.”
I waited for a shoe to drop.
“And he can send them to me. But the nearest airport is Chicago.”
Boom! I knew what was coming. Would I drive the six hundred miles (one way) to get them for her?
The date of their arrival absolutely did not work for me. But…
“How about if my brother picked them up, and when it would be more convenient I could meet him in St Louis and do a hand-off, like getting spies from across a border?”
“Would you? Would he?”
Well my sister-in-law, bless her heart, was a cat lover, having two of her own. They would love to. It would be an adventure!
In large measure, the adventure was for the cats – three days aboard airplanes and awaiting flights in airport facilities. Three days in a cage. Food, water, and care the responsibility of no one.
At the Chicago airport in the darkness of a late evening, my brother and my dear SIL were directed to drive to a specific loading dock gate, and only after Cold War fashion security checks were they pointed to a cage set some distance away from any building. They soon learned why.
The cage and its two occupants reeked with dead skunk-type stench, something akin to old death and putrification – imagine rotting flesh, warm throw-up, and skunk, stirred, not shaken.
Despite being January in northern Illinois, they drove the hour-long trip home with all the windows open, desperately attempting to hold their breaths.
As I said, it was the middle of winter – at night. After releasing the cats into the finished basement, with the cage placed far into the backyard, the cats then refused to be captured for cleaning. That would have to await the next day. Except the next day, as well as the day following, they continued to hide, only their disgusting odor and the absence of their food and water giving evidence of their existence.
My SIL’s other cats? Nowhere to be seen or to eat or drink. They refused to show themselves the entire stay of the long-legged, devilish-appearing foreigners.
Finally, trapped in borrowed live trap cages, repeatedly sprayed with deodorizing agents and soaps, and then rinsed in a shower stall, they were tolerably prepared for a trip to St Louis.
I saw the cage, but only as their car sped from the pre-arranged meeting place did I surmise that the exchange had already occurred. I expect the two were miles away before the devil cats were secured in my car.
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Writing Prompt Write a flash fiction story that has 500 words or less. Any topic. |
This is based on a true story. My sister-in-law brings up the 'cats from hell' story often. Barbara said that the odd-looking, long-legged creatures totally dominated her pets.
They probably stunk worse than I described.
The photo is from an on-line newspaper article with no attribution.
Exactly 500 words per MSWord
Pays
one point
and 2 member cents. They probably stunk worse than I described.
The photo is from an on-line newspaper article with no attribution.
Exactly 500 words per MSWord
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