Free The Cats that Surfed the Web by Karen Golden Page A

chair.
    “I’ll fix you, my smart meezer.” She leaned over and exited the search. She then logged onto her office email account and pulled up her messages. An array of junk mail appeared on the screen. She deleted those, and ignored the three messages from her boss, Monica DeSutter. The one from Colleen was the same as the note taped on the refrigerator, but she was particularly interested in the note from Mark Dunn.
    She opened it. “I enjoyed this weekend so much. I hope you’ve returned safely to NYC. You promised to give me an answer within forty-eight hours. Yes, I’m pressuring you. What may it be?”
    “Indiana wants me,” she said to Lilac, who was still resting on the office chair. “Scout . . . Iris,” she called. She waited a few seconds, and then called them again. “Where are you guys?” she asked. When she didn’t hear the pitter-patter of little feet, she had a good idea where they would be—basking in front of the radiator.
    She pulled Lilac off the chair. The cat squawked, still hoarse from the ordeal of her incarcerated bear. She carried the cat into the living room where—sure enough—the other two cats were stretched out in front of the radiator. Scout was on her side with eyes closed; one fang showed under her curled upper lip. Iris was on her back with her eyes crossed slightly. Both were in total cat bliss.
    “Don’t sit so close to the radiator,” she admonished. “You’ll get toasted.”
    Iris got up, stretched, and then slinked over, collapsing on Katherine’s foot. “Yowl,” she said, and then yawned. “Waugh,” Scout protested, not moving.
    “Cats of mine, we’re moving to Indiana,” Katherine announced. “Tomorrow I’m giving my two-week notice. I’ve got to schedule a time with the moving people. I’ll do this and that, and oh yes, I must have the car serviced.”
    At the mention of car service, the cats ears flew back in defensive mode. They didn’t like these particular words. Car service generally meant a trip to the veterinarian, where they would be poked and prodded by a human with cold hands, and sometimes receive the dreaded shot. Scout uttered an emphatic waugh, which sounded almost like no. Iris squeezed her eyes, sauntered back to the radiator and began grooming her paw. Lilac struggled to get down—kicking Katherine with her hind legs as she catapulted onto the floor. “Owl,” she cried, as she galloped out of the room.
    “Scout votes no, Iris and Lilac vote yes.”
    By the time Katherine got back to her desk, Lilac had resumed her position on top of her chair. She leaned over and read the three remaining messages—written by her boss in her typical taskmaster tone—work, work, work. The corporation had downsized to the barest of staff, which meant those employees lucky enough to keep their jobs were unlucky enough to acquire several more. “I need to get a life,” Katherine said to the sleeping cat.
    Walking into the kitchen, she poured herself a glass of cabernet, then dialed the Indiana attorney’s home number.
    The phone rang twice. Katherine heard the sound of a phone being picked up, then dropped to the floor.
    “Bruiser,” Mark scolded. “Get away from that phone. Hello,” he said into the receiver.
    Katherine chuckled, “I see we have similar problems. Bruiser doesn’t like the phone ringing either?”
    “I’m so glad you called,” Mark said. “How was your flight?”
    “A total nightmare. Snow in Indiana. Fog and rain in New York. Choppy air in-between,” she said. “My cab driver was from hell and he drove that way, too. I got drenched outside the apartment. Need I go on?” she laughed ruefully.
    Mark laughed. “I think I get the picture.”
    “The reason I’m calling is I’ve made a decision.”
    “And does the decision involve a long-distance move?” he asked hopefully.
    “Yes, it does.”
    “Wonderful. How soon can you get here?”
    “By the end of the month. I’d very much appreciate if you’d contact