Free World without Cats by Bonham Richards

began kneading the vet’s tummy. Noah sat down beside Vera.
    “She’s smiling,” she said.
    “Cats can’t smile.”
    “Sure they can. A purr is an audible smile.”
    “Oh. Right. Never thought of it that way.”
    Vera was silent. Distractedly, she ran her hands through her hair.
    “Are you okay?’ he asked Noah.
    “Noah, I’m worried about Dorothy’s cats.”
    He took her hand. “I would be too. Are you sure you can’t identify it with one of the common feline diseases?”
    “Yes,” Vera replied. “ I’ve gone over and over it in my mind and can’t peg it to anything I’m familiar with.”
    “You don’t suppose you could have picked up the infectious agent from the Knowland cats, do you? I wouldn’t want Bastette to get sick.”
    “I guess that’s a possibility. I did shower when I got home. Besides, most infectious feline diseases are transferred from cat to cat, not from cat to human to cat.”
    Noah frowned. “Are you sure it’s not distemper?”
    “It doesn’t seem to be. I considered panleukopenia—that’s what vets call distemper—but the white-cell count is up, not down. It looks more like a virulent bacterial infection of some sort.”
    Noah leaned over Bastette and planted a chaste kiss on Vera’s cheek.
    “What’s that for?” asked Vera.
    “I love it when you talk dirty like that.”
    “What, panleukopenia? Let me tell you about urolithiasis or calicivirus,” she responded.
    “Ooh! In some countries you could get arrested for using provocative words like that.” Noah continued the game, and Vera leaned over the cat and kissed him.
    “And what’s that for?” he asked.
    “Because you’re you, that’s all.” For the rest of the night there was no more talk of feline diseases.
    Sunday morning, they shared breakfast while Bastette fished with her paw for imaginary creatures in her water dish. Vera shook her head. “I’d better call Dorothy.”
    She learned that another cat had died during the night; Vera was bewildered. She looked up at Noah. “I better get back to Dorothy’s and check her cats again.” He shrugged.
    When she arrived at the Knowland house, she put on latex gloves and a disposable paper smock. She wrinkled her nose. Bleach and urine … unpleasant mix … Vera looked around the house and saw that almost all of the pets were sick. Some could hardly move.
    Vera examined over half the animals. She palpated their abdomens and listened to their hearts and lungs; she took their temperatures and noted their pulses. Without exception, they were feverish. Their gums were pallid, and their haws were showing. Some had blood trickling from their ears or noses or mouths. Several had diarrhea, making their examination a messy, difficult job. Vera was deeply disturbed. She couldn’t recall a feline disease with such a high rate of transfer and mortality.
    Dorothy sat silently in a corner, staring at nothing. Vera took more blood samples from some of the cats for additional examinations.
     
    Back at the clinic, Vera asked Kal if he would assist. When they examined the blood samples, they again found a high white-blood-cell count. As with the earlier specimens, she again thought she saw bacteria. The telephone rang. Vera expected to hear Dorothy’s voice and was surprised when it turned out to be Mrs. Amend, the wife of City Councilman Amend. Her cat was ill, and would Vera mind if she brought her in, even though it was Sunday? Of course, Vera could not deny her.
    The blue Persian, whose mistress normally kept her carefully groomed, was a mess. Her hair was matted, and her hindquarters were soiled with diarrheic stool. The cat’s eyes were dull. Vera realized that the symptoms were the same as those exhibited by Dorothy’s cats. “You don’t let Madame run loose, do you?” she asked.
    “No, she is strictly a house cat,” snapped Mrs. Amend. “We never let her out.”
    Vera’s brow wrinkled. If Madame had the same illness that all of Dorothy’s cats did,