Secret Agent Cat

Writer Lady walks through the house checking the bathroom, computer and coffee pot.  Thermostat.  Will the temperature be okay for Dobby while she is gone? She picks up her purse, tote and keys.   Makes another walk through the house just in case she missed something.

“Okay Dobby, Mom's going to work now.  You be a good boy.” Writer Lady walks past Dobby as he lays in the patch of sun on the living room floor on her way to make yet another round. She is very careful about these things.

“I'm leaving now Bubby.  You're in charge!   Take care of the house.”   Dobby pretends to nap in his sunny patch until he hears her lock the door, get in the car, start the engine and leave. He listens for the engine's humming to fade as she drives away.

“Finally!  I thought she'd never leave.  I'm the man.   This is my house.  Oh yeah!” Dobby circles the house with his big strong tomcat strut making sure Writer Lady didn't forget anything. Bathroom : curling iron—unplugged, water off, toilet seat—down. Thermostat: fine (because cats don't read thermostats). Kitchen : Stove—off. Coffee pot—unplugged. Den: Computer—on! I hear the computer running sound and the blue light is on too. Dobby jumps up into the big chair and looks at the flat thing Writer Lady is always looking at.  Nothing is happening. What if I move that weird thing she is always playing with?  Dobby sits on the arm of the chair, leans over carefully and pushes on it with his nose.   The flat thing lights up.   There's writing.  All kinds of writing but it's not all Writer Lady's.   He sees some pretty colors too.   Nothing is moving.  Dobby thinks, Mom has been acting funny lately. She does things that aren't writing. She mutters a lot too. Says it's a special project. Inquiring felines want to know what is afoot?

“A foot is twelve inches.”  A high voice answers and giggles behind the chair.

Dobby jumps down and sees a tiny human the size of a mouse grinning up at him.
“What did you say?” Dobby asks.

“A foot is twelve inches.  You were wondering what was a foot.   So I told you.”

“I was thinking to myself that I was curious what was afoot.  Not what a foot was.”

“Of course not, silly we all have feet.  We stand on those.  Curiosity killed the cat, so you might want to keep your ample pink nose out of things that don't concern you.”

“Afoot a-f-o-o-t is a fancy word humans use for saying “in progress” or “going on”.   How is it you don't recognize afoot but you use the word ample correctly?”

“I recognize my foot.” The tiny person holds up a booted foot to Dobby as he smiles. “I look at it every day.” TP (which stands for Totally Pixilated or in other words he played with the pixies so long it made him silly) looks at Dobby's feet. "I don't recognize your feet though they're weird."

“That's because they are paws. I am a cat.   My name is Dobby.”

“Dobby?  I'm TP!   Member of the Faerie council.   We helped you with the Magic Door?”   TP gestures with his arm to the door behind him (see the post titled—The Magic Door).

“You were the deep bellowing voice that helped me build the door?”

“Um hum.” TP answers with a grin. “We use the big voice to intimidate and protect us from potential enemies. The historical records of Faerie depicted our ancestors as manipulative, dangerous and cruel.  WE WERE.   As we evolved and got tired of killing each other, we kind of got well...bored.  Faeries knew that if they were going to interact with the mortal world again we would have to be kinder, gentler.  The ancient people of the mortal world weren't too bright.  It was kind of like shooting fish in a barrel.  Unfortunately, we had some meanies that really liked shooting fish in barrels.   But they died.   So there's no problem now.”

“O-kay.” Dobby looks at the ceiling and crosses his eyes momentarily.

“It was nice meeting you.  I just wanted to point out that looking into your mom's computer is an invasion of privacy.  She will find out if you do.”

“Thanks.”

“No...problem? I think that's the expression. I'm still learning the language.  Bye.” With an elaborate flourish and puff of smoke the faerie is gone.

 “Now...it's my turn." 

 "Secret Agent Man" by Johnny Rivers can be heard in the background.

Dobby walks behind the base of the easel.  He disappears a cat and reappears a Secret Agent Cat wearing a brown trenchcoat, black fedora, and cool sunglasses.  He struts to theme song a little then he jumps on to the table and starts to search Mom's computer files.  He sings while he searches. “Secret Agent CAT. Secret Agent CAT.....(you know the rest)”

“No. No. Nope.” Dobby starts reading rough drafts of the earlier blogs. I am so glad I let the faeries try out their “learn to read English” spell on me.  Laughing. “I am so funny...smart too.  I should be famous, seriously.   Why can't I find anything?” I'm thinking like a cat and not like a mom. “I looked under Special Project, Confidential, Top Secret, Don't Open and Dobby This Means You. Could it be under something else? Oh Personal...” The window on the screen closes and the computer starts to shut itself down. “Ooops.”

A car drives up and doesn't pass by.  It's Mom!  Jumping out of the big chair Dobby runs to the cool side of the easel base so he can come back the other way and turn into just a plain cat again. Slipping on the trenchcoat his butt hits the wall as he slides to a stop. Dobby runs through and jumps back into the big chair curling up into a favorite sleeping position. Laying still the only evidence of the adventure is his furiously pounding heart. “Mom won't know what I was doing. Mom won't know what I was doing,” Dobby repeats to himself in an effort to calm down more quickly.

Writer Lady walks into the den. “Hey there handsome. Mom's home.”

Dobby looks up groggily or so he thinks.

“Short day at work.” She says and smiles.

She doesn't know anything!

Dobby hears a giggle in the direction of the Magic Door, then he feels Writer Lady's breath close to his ear. “I know exactly what you've been doing. There is faerie dust all over you and you are lit up like a neon sign. Stay off the computer.”

“How? Was it the Faeries? Did they help you too?”

She smiles really big. "A little lesson for you sweetie. Every woman has a little bit of magic all her own."