The Man With Seventeen Cats (Part One)

Louie wasn’t sure how it got so out of control, but he knew he had a problem when the incessant meowing became the background music for dinner.



It all started when Pawsie and Meowlofur were left after his sister Sheila’s tragic death.  She had begged Larry to keep her two precious felines should she pass.  He had begged her in the cold white hospital room where she lied emblazoned with tubes to let someone else have the pleasure.  Sheila was adamant.  Larry was to take the cats and give them the love they would need.



Fluffington, a black and white tabby, came next while Louie was taking the recycling out the backdoor of the office building he maintained as a janitor one rainy day.  The little ball of fur, which was nameless at the time, sat under the dumpster staring at Louie, almost hypnotizing him.  Louie had shooed the cat away but became helpless up against the cute wiles of the kitty.



Now, there were seventeen cats living in Louie’s basement and he was getting the feeling he might have a problem.



It was getting difficult keeping up with the cats.  The bag of cat food at the cellar door lay almost empty.  Litter had become so expensive, Louie thought it best to dig a ditch in the cellar floor and fill it with sand he’d steal from the local playground.



Louie was coming up from the basement early one morning when he thought he heard a noise in the porch.  Just as he shut and bolted the basement door, he heard a knock at the front door over the muffled cries of cats.



“Shhh,” Louie whispered.  Louie’s demand for silence went unanswered as he walked slowly to the front door.  He peered out the side window to see a petite woman in her late thirties carrying a small briefcase.  She had dark hair with a few gray streaks pulled back into a bun so tight than he face looked as if she had spent the last two days in a wind tunnel.  She was wearing a boring navy blue pants suit that looked too big.



“Oh, this should be good.”  Louie mumbled.



Louie took a deep breath and opened the door.  “Yeah?”



“Good morning, sir.  Are you Mr. Louis Aldemere?” Cassie asked as she brushed the front of her jacket.



“Yeah?”



“Mr. Aldemere, my name is Cassie Lodus and I am from Animal Control.  We have gotten a few complaints about some activity at your residence here.”  She looked past Louie into the house.



“What do you want,” Louie responded while shifting to block her view.



“I told you I am from Animal Control and -” Cassie started.



“Ain’t got no animals,” he interrupted and spat on the porch.



Cassie cleared her throat and brushed at the front of her jacket again, hinting at her discomfort.  Louis was already there.  Without a word he stepped backwards into the house and slammed the door.



Cassie looked at the wind chimes hanging motionless at the left corner of the porch.  Her eyes scanned the filthy wooden wall and she made a mental note to scrub her bathroom.



Cassie knocked again, this time harder.  The door flung open and Cassie was greeted with a wooden baseball bat.  Cassie turned to run, but before she could get her tiny frame off of the porch, Louie swung and made contact with the left side of her head.  Cassie’s black slip-on loafers fell off of her feet as she tumbled down the porch steps into the dirt.  Blood was dripping down Cassie’s face from the blow.



Louie gently leaned the baseball bat up against the wall and stepped down to Ms. Lodus.



“Here, let me help you up,” he said quietly as he grabbed Cassie by her wrists.