Katz' Cat

KATZ’ CAT by Dawn Greeneld Ireland An Artistic Origins Publication

CHAPTER ONE Jimmy Katz drove his late model Honda CRV with a periwinkle blue paint job along twisted roads to Twinkle, Texas, 385 miles from the closest shopping mall. All four windows were down at least six inches, blowing his sandy hair about. The town lived in Starlight County, which was the second county established in the old Republic of Texas. His journey started from Houston on I-10 heading west. After a couple of hundred miles, he made the decision to add scenery and travelled county roads heading northwest, west and southwest. It was a dizzying drive along two-lane roads that reminded him of a drunken snake that he once found in his backyard as a child. Guppy, Jimmy’s green Amazon parrot with a blue splotch over his beak between his eyes, and bright yellow feathers at the base of his neck, was the designated backseat driver. The bird came to have an immense and colorful vocabulary from his previous owner. Boxes, bags, and suitcases hemmed in Guppy’s travel cage. He squawked in indignation when a vehicle zoomed past the CRV speeding. “Slow down, you numbskull!”

2 Jimmy checked the rearview mirror, then both side mirrors. He ipped his signal light to pass a farmer on a tractor, then sped up and got around him before an 18-wheeler roared past in the opposite direction on the four-lane road. The farmer tooted his horn and waved. Jimmy waved back, one of the goodnatured experiences of the Texas countryside. “You know, Guppy, if we were still in the Big City, that farmer would have waved his middle nger at us,” Jimmy said, his baby blue eyes lit with humor. “To hell with ’em! To hell with ‘em!” Guppy squawked. “You got that right, buddy. I’m so done with the Big City,” Jimmy said. He thought back on this life-changing move and what brought it about. He had been covering a story for the Big City paper which took him to I-45 N. He pulled o the highway, stopped at a gas station and lled up his car. Just as he tightened the gas cap, three thugs approached him, one waving a gun in his face. They took his money and his keys. He begged them to let him have his briefcase. As they got in Jimmy’s car and drove o, a window buzzed down and the briefcase ew out and bounced along the ground before coming to a stop just a short distance from where Jimmy was kneeling. He was so shook up, he could barely pull his cellphone out of his pocket. The manager of the gas station ran out of the convenience store, followed by several customers. “Are you okay, man?” the manager asked. “I called the cops.” “Thanks. I can’t believe they robbed me at gunpoint,” Jimmy said as he stood. A customer brought him his briefcase. “You’re lucky they were in a charitable mood. Typically, they don’t let you have anything.” Three weeks later, the cops called. They found his vehicle; it was barely recognizable after being torched. Then he discovered

3 the insurance company paid the actual cash value for his CRV, and didn’t pay o the note. His head spun the problem. He didn’t know how he would get into another vehicle while still having to pay the current balance on his fried car. Jimmy was in the process of spiraling downward with the enormous problem those thugs presented. He didn’t make a lot of money. He didn’t have any backup plan. He didn’t have any family to fall back on. Brian McKinley, his one true friend from way back in kindergarten, was o on a sabbatical somewhere trying to nd himself after a bad breakup. Jimmy had been okay with his life until a month ago. As long as he had a roof over his head, and he and Guppy had food, he was satised. The only other time in his life when things hit rock bottom was when he was between jobs for a little longer than he expected. He had to rent a storage unit for his meager possessions after he was evicted, and he and Guppy were forced to live in the storage unit, hiding from the security and management sta. He shook o that bad memory as he drove the rental car to the newspaper, turned in his resignation, cleared out his desk and went home to his apartment. It took a week to decompress from reliving the experience of identifying his vehicle. “Guppy, we’re getting out of the city and moving to the country. I hope I can nd a good place for us to live where I’ll build you a fenced-in area and you can be outside whenever you want, okay?” “Freedom!” Guppy squawked from his perch on a suspended fake log in a corner of the tiny living room. Jimmy had papered the oor with old newspapers in a wide circumference around the bird. Parrot hygiene was very important to Jimmy. Finally, his luck turned. Someone was selling their mother’s Honda CRV. It had low mileage, was in pristine condition and

4 they only wanted fteen hundred dollars. He could make it work. The Twinkle Independent News (TIN) was a biweekly paper that published on Wednesdays and Saturdays. They had been looking for an experienced journalist to ll a recently retired news veteran’s slot. When Jimmy came across the Help Wanted ad online, he immediately sent them his resume. He received an email less than 24-hours later with a Zoom link for an interview. His interview with Bill Trance, a ftyish managing editor with an upbeat personality, went smoothly. The pay wasn’t all that great, but the cost of living would be much lower than the Big City, so it would all work out. He accepted the job. Trance suggested a couple of places Jimmy could check out for temporary lodging until he got the lay of the land. So, here he was, on the road to Twinkle, Texas, on the outskirts of civilization, leaving all the downsides of high population, bumper-to-bumper trac, deafening noise and heavy pollution behind him when his phone rang. “Hello? Who is this?” he asked when Unknown showed in Caller ID. “Jimzer! It’s me,” Brian said through a crackly connection. “Where are you?” “Bri? Where the heck have you been? My life’s turned upside down. Guppy and I are on the way to Twinkle,” Jimmy shouted into the phone. “What happened? I went by your place and it’s vacant, man! Twinkle? Is that in Texas?” Jimmy explained the situation and promised to call him when they got situated. “Text me your new number. It didn’t come through.”

5 “GUPPY, they have some strange names for towns out in the country,” Jimmy said. “We’ll have to check out Jupiter, Star, Clem’s Corner and Pancake. Who would have thought we’d be moving to a town named Twinkle in Starlight County?” “Time to eat,” Guppy squawked. “No, it isn’t,” Jimmy said. “Hey, look—there’s an oil derrick way over there!” He drove for another thirty miles then passed the sign for Twinkle that showed Population, 3,000. He slowed his speed to the required 45-mph and kept his eyes peeled for the directions to Mrs. Potts’ house on Burbridge Street. GPS told him to take the next right. Then his destination would be on the right at 400 feet. Jimmy found the large two-story white rooming house, pulled his vehicle up at the curb and parked. “You wait here, Guppy. I’ll go meet with Mrs. Potts and see where we’re going to stay.” “Time to eat!” Guppy squawked. “We’ll eat as soon as we’re settled,” Jimmy said as he got out of the car and walked up the walkway lined with fragrant herbs. He had never seen mint, fennel, parsley, rosemary, thyme, or oregano grown in such abundance. He climbed the two steps and rang the doorbell. The door opened, and a stout ftyish woman with shocking white, spiked hair with streaks of purple greeted him. “Mr. Katz?” she asked in a moderately loud voice. “That’s me. Please call me Jimmy,” he said. She opened the door wider and invited him inside. She glanced at his car. “Will your bird be okay in the car?” “Oh, sure. The windows are halfway down. He’ll be okay for a little while,” Jimmy said. “Do you think you’d prefer the upstairs apartment or the ground oor?” Mrs. Potts asked.

6 “Can I see them first? I don’t have much with me, but I want to see what Guppy’s views would be,” he said. JIMMY SETTLED Guppy’s travel cage in a corner of the living room between two windows. One was a view of the back yard where he noticed a vegetable garden. The other was the side of the property with a mature oak tree with squirrel activity. He hauled his boxes, bags, suitcases, and his laptop case out of the vehicle and up the stairs, and got to work unpacking. The apartment was comfortably furnished with an overstued sofa, a recliner, two end tables, a coee table, a 36-inch TV on a stand, and an empty bookcase. A desk was against the wall. He set his briefcase on the desk, moved a box of les and oce supplies beside it then carried his book boxes to the bookcase. The bedroom featured a queen bed with a high headboard, two nightstands, a dresser and chest of drawers. It was more than he would ever need, but he liked the setup. The bathroom contained a clawfoot tub plus a shower stall, two sinks, a bunch of drawers and cabinets under the long counter, and his and hers closets. He discovered the toilet behind another door. He had really lucked out with the accommodations. There was a small kitchen with all the amenities: gas stove, refrigerator, dishwasher, microwave, a small pantry with a can of corn, a kitchen table and four chairs. He opened cabinets and found dishes, cups, glasses, pots and pans, and silverware. Another door hid a vacuum, broom, dust mop and dustpan, a bucket and mop. He was thankful that all the oors were a rich, honeycolored hard wood—the real stu, not engineered. Jimmy loathed carpet. It was a cesspool for nasty bacteria that caused

7 the majority of all allergies. The apartment had several nice throw and area rugs that would be easy to care for. “Waiter! Waiter! Where’s my food?” Guppy squawked. “Just hold on,” Jimmy said. “I’m going to set up your area then I’ll get your food and water. I’ve got to go grocery shopping and stock up with people and bird food.” Jimmy made another couple of trips out to the vehicle. He assembled the three pieces of Guppy’s tree, which brought the height to ve feet, then the other two pieces that were the cross branches. Once everything was together, he placed it between the two corner windows. Then he attached Guppy’s food dish holder and stainless water bowl holder. He dug old newspapers out of the box and papered the oor. “Okay, big guy. Here’s your new place. Do you like it?” He opened the travel cage, and the bird climbed onto his arm. He walked over to the tree and Guppy climbed onto his perch. Guppy squawked indignantly. “Where’s the food?” Jimmy tore into a box and pulled out a package of Guppy’s favorite seed mix. “You’ll have your veggies and fruit when I get back from the store.” He brought the water bowl to the kitchen sink and lled it then settled it into the metal attachment on the fake tree. “Be back later.” He locked the apartment door, headed down the stairs and out the door. Jimmy had never lived anywhere that had a garden or herbs growing, and he appreciated this new country life where the air was so aromatic from herbs he automatically inhaled. The journalist turned the car around and headed back to the main street, Stonerich Boulevard. He decided to stop at the paper before grabbing a bite to eat, to see where he’d be working, and to meet his new boss. GPS told him to make a left on Jiltson Way and his destination would be on the right. Jimmy parked the car in front of the Twinkle Independent

8 News building. It was an old tan brick building with windows along the front and huge wooden double doors. He went inside and was greeted by a middle-aged receptionist wearing a Bose headset. One hand typed, another copied as she rolled her chair as if on a speedway behind a six-foot command center with three 32-inch monitors, a gigantic ashing keyboard and a fax/copier. One monitor displayed her typing. The other two showed security pictures of Jiltson Way, the front door, back door and the parking lot. Ten feet behind her was the newsroom. The nameplate on the counter said Millicent Montoya. “Hi, may I help you?” she asked. “I’m Jimmy Katz…” “Oh! You’re the new reporter! Let me call Bill. Welcome to TIN!” she blurted as she worked the switchboard. “Bill, Mr. Katz is here.” She looked up at Jimmy. “He’s on his way.” Jimmy perused the framed headlines on the wall: Twinkle Derricks beat Clem’s Corner Buckshots 10-2, Mitch Ogilvie’s 100th Birthday, Bertha Potts Wins FFAs Herb Competition Hands Down. He stared at the headlines as if they were in a foreign language he couldn’t understand. No murders, rapes, robberies. “I’ll bet those are a little dierent from the headlines you’re used to,” Bill Trance said. Jimmy jumped. He hadn’t heard the managing editor approach. They shook hands. “There’s no crime headlines,” Jimmy said, mildly shocked. “You’ll get used to country living in no time,” Bill said. “Let me show you where your desk is, then we can go to lunch.” They walked through the room that was the heart of the paper. Several unoccupied desks showed active use with stacks of notes, newspaper clippings, le folders and whatnot. There were four o
ces along a wall. A large map of the area, and a

9 map of the United States covered a wall. A whiteboard was on another wall. He noticed a jumble of large conference tables throughout the room. Bill walked up to a desk that held an oce phone, wire baskets, a pencil cup and a lined tablet in the middle of the clean surface. “Here’s your new desk, Jimmy. If you stop back by before six, you can meet some of your coworkers.” He steered Jimmy to the oces along the wall. “This is my oce. Door’s always open. Want to grab a bite to eat?” “That would be great. Where’s a grocery store? I need to stock up. My bird expects me to bring home his fruit and veggies.” “What kind of bird do you have?” Bill asked. “Amazon parrot named Guppy, and he’s a talker,” Jimmy said. “Did you get settled into Mrs. Potts’ place?” Bill asked. “Yes. Thanks so much for the recommendation. It’s clean, quiet and just the right size. Guppy has a good view from two windows,” Jimmy said. As they left Bill’s oce, he pointed to a door. “That’s the door to the parking lot,” Bill said. “Milly, we’re going to Francesca’s.” “Okay, boss,” Milly said with a wave. They walked next door to a café with a huge plate glass window. Bill didn’t wait to be seated. He walked over to a booth and slid onto the seat, with Jimmy sitting across from him. He reached over to the wall at the end of the booth where plastic-coated menus were behind the condiments. Bill handed a menu to Jimmy. As they were perusing their choices, a buxom woman padded over to the table. “Hey, Bill. Do you want to know the special for today?” she asked. “Hi Francesca. This is my new reporter, Jimmy Katz. He’s

10 not from around here so give him a break,” Bill said, with a wink. “What’s the special?” Francesca grinned. “Hi, Jimmy. Today’s special is a double patty cheese burger with bacon and my special sauce, a side of either fries or onion rings, and a drink. Should I give you a minute to look over the menu?” “The special sounds good to me. I’ll have onion rings,” Jimmy said. “You know what I want,” Bill said. “Two specials coming up,” Francesca said. Jimmy frowned across the table at Bill. “The special is the same every day. In other words, there isn’t a special,” Bill said. “Oh, okay,” Jimmy said. “When you come in tomorrow, ask Milly for your press card, and a window sticker for your car. That way you won’t have to worry about getting yelled at by the police or any other ocials until they get to know you. Then, all bets are o,” Bill said. “Make sure you keep your receipts for any expenses while you cover your assignment. You turn those in to Milly with an expense report. Oh, and ask her for a map of Starlight County. Sometimes GPS doesn’t work out in the boondocks.” “How many towns do we cover?” Jimmy asked. “Aside from Twinkle, there are eight towns: Jupiter, Star, Clem’s Corner, Lockton, Pancake, Bridge, Derrick and Dime Water. You’ll get to know your way around in no time,” Bill said. Francesca carried two heaping plates to the table. “Two specials. Let me know if you need anything else.” Jimmy looked at his plate. He had never seen such a huge burger. “Thanks. This looks great!” “Homemade buns to t the burgers,” Francesca said proudly.