he humble beginnings and true-life tale of Sparky, hero of the Isla Mujeres Mystery Series

 

Chapter 6

Home!

“Oh, you’re back,” Tommy said. He stood up, arched his back, and stretched out his front feet. “Did you enjoy your visit to the cat-doctor?”

My bushy eyebrows shot upwards, “It was awful,” I replied. “The only good thing is these nice people came back for me.”

“Yes, we’re lucky, we have people who love us,” Tommy said.

“What do I call our humans?”

“They have people names, however,” Tommy replied with a bored sigh, “I call the woman Servant and the man Driver.”

“Why did you pick those names?” I asked.

“Because when I first met our humans, that’s how I thought of them. They swap jobs frequently. Sometimes Servant is the driver, and Driver is the servant, but I don’t change their titles.”

“Should I do the same?” I asked.

“Yes. Humans aren’t very smart,” he answered. “It took me fourteen years to properly train them.”

“Okay, I think I understand,” I said. I was not quite two years old in people years; that’s around twenty years old in doggie years. Tommy had already lived fourteen people-years, and that made him an expert.

Eager to learn more from Tommy’s experiences, I carefully studied his actions. He licked his right front paw with his long, rough tongue and wiped the damp paw across his right ear, then repeated the process.

“Are you self-cleaning now?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said, then switched to cleaning himself with his left paw, “it’s called grooming.”

“Could teach me how to do grooming?”

“No, I’m sorry. Cats groom. Dogs get bathed by their humans. That’s how it works.”

“Oh,” I was disappointed. I wanted to be self-cleaning too, like a cat. Then I thought of the many cats still at the clinic. “Do all the animals at the cat-doctor’s place have people?”

Tommy yawned widely, displaying his tongue, sharp white fangs, and pointy teeth. “No, most of the cats are looking for humans to adopt them,” he answered.

“What about the doggies?”

“Some have owners, some are strays,” he said.

I watched in fascination as he stretched his front paws forward, then bowed his head, and arched his back. It seemed to relax him.

“I wish every doggie and kitty had nice people like we do,” I said.

“Me, too, but the cat-doctor and his staff make sure the animals under his care get food, medications, and a safe place to sleep,” Tommy said. “Princess Chica and I were both homeless before we adopted our humans.”

“Oh! ¿Hablas español? Do you speak Spanish?” I hopefully asked. It would be wonderful to be able to communicate in my language.

“No,” Tommy shook his head, “I’m Canadian. Our humans found me in a vineyard in Canada when I was a tiny kitten. I was so small I could fit in the palm of Servant’s hand.”

“You’re lucky,” I said, then scrunched up my face as I thought about what he had said. “How did you get to Mexico?”

“My people didn’t like the cold Canadian winters, so we moved here when I was nine.”

“Wow, that’s amazing,” I said. “I’ve heard that some of my doggie friends have been adopted to homes in Canada.” I shivered at the thought. “I’m sure they don’t like the cold.”

“It’s not cold all the time in Canada, only part of the year. Plus, their people dress them in warm sweaters and jackets, and in time they adjust to the colder weather,” Tommy said. “It’s no different than me with my thick fur moving from Canada to the hotter weather here in Mexico.”

“True,” I agreed, then I thought of something else I wanted to ask. “Is Princess Chica a Mexicana?”

“Yes, she entered our house from the beach. Just like you.”

“Does she speak Spanish?”

“A little, she was very young when she moved in with us, and she has forgotten most of her original language. She still speaks a bit of cat-Spanish. She says it’s different from dog-Spanish.” Tommy said with a shrug. “I don’t understand the difference.”

I thought about that for a bit, then said, “Mexican Spanish is a bit different from the words that people use in other countries, so Chica’s cat-Spanish may be a little different, but it would still be understandable.” I felt quite proud that I could explain something to a much older and wiser cat.

Tommy slowly turned his head and studied me for a moment, “Probably,” he finally agreed. He jumped off the sofa and wandered into the house. He didn’t seem impressed by my knowledge.

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