Just Say No To Favor Requests From Friends

Or friends of friends . Or neighbors. All you'll get is a black eye for your trouble. But I'm getting ahead.

It started with a cat. We'll call her "Muffin". Muffin was a troublemaker. For her humans. Birds in the yard. And, ultimately, me.

Not that she was a bad cat. She's friendly. Affectionate. Spayed. Everything you want in a female cat. But she had an appetite. And the froo-froo designer food she was fed wasn't enough. She was hardcore. She wanted junk. Specifically Friskies.

The only way to feed this habit was to steal neighbor cat's food. Back porch, garage, carport or cat flap, no place was safe from Muffin's scavaging. Most of her forays would be done in less than a day. But come spring she'd feel she needed to make up for the winter she was shut inside. She'd go missing days in March and April. Never mind come May she was back on schedule. "Dolores", Muffin's owner, still worried over her poor dear sweet Muffin when she was gone. This is the same cat I'd personally observe edge a twenty-five pound tom away from his own bowl. Poor Muffin was an aggressive addict.

This year some jerk(my cousin) blabbed that I was working with a private investigative team. Maybe Tammy could find Muffin, he volunteered. He also volunteered my cell number.

Me: Hello?
Dolores: Hi! Tam?
Me: Hi! What's up?
Dolores: It's Muffin. I think she's really lost this time.
Me: Dolores, you always think she's really lost this time of year.
Dolores: But it's dangerous out there.
Me: With Muffin on the loose, I agree.
Dolores: There are raccoons.
Me: Muffin sent your neighbor's pit bull yipping for a vet. A raccoon would barely make her sweat.
Dolores: Tam, it's been three days!
Me: The record's four.
Dolores: Please! (Jerk I'm related to) told me all about how you're learning to investigate things.
Me: Dolores, those things are humans who leave documentation wherever they go.
Dolores: Muffin's licensed.
Me: Unless that's driver's license, it won't help. Actually running plates are a pain. If she had a credit card..
Dolores: Tam, please! I'm really worried.

A few more rounds in the guilt ring, I was down for the count. Dolores walked away with the match. Like usual. I squeezed the search for Muffin into my already packed schedule. For free. Thing was, I play the odds and do nothing, Muffin would show up in 24 or less. I'd take the credit. Dolores would be grateful. But then I'd feel guilty. I decided to use my lunch to make some token rounds so I could tell Dolores I did something.

I walk around the neighborhood. It's quietly residential. Middleclass suburban but no hint of Stepford. I turn a corner and see a cat streak across the road. Another victim of "poor" Muffin? I speed up to the carport in time to see a bushy ginger tail disappear through a door into the back yard. Muffin's a long haired orange tabby. Hot damn! I thought. I might finish this job honestly.

Then I remembered I was doing it for free.

I pulled the camera out, zoomed and started walking through the carport. Anyone asked, I was looking for a cat. Because I was. I was so busy looking for the cat, focusing the zoom, I didn't see the door from the house open into my path until it was too late.

The camera was okay. The same could not be said about me. Or my eye. After exchanging apologies with the grandmotherly lady who tried to give me a shiner, I told her the tale of Muffin. She was familiar with the cat. Trouble, she said. I agreed.

She let me into the back yard to look. Crouching at the far side was the target, as if she'd been spooked by the racket. I took a pic then put the camera away. This should be easy. I'd just make nice kitty noises, get close, nab Muffin, job over.

Then I slipped on cat food Muffin had spilled in alarm. I went down. Luckily I went down on the grass.

By the time the nice lady finished treating my wounds, Muffin was gone. So was my lunch time. Time to head back to the office.

On the way people stared briefly then looked away. Did I really look that bad? I wondered. Ducking into the loo waiting for my skinny tall latte, I learned why. The minor scraps and abrasions weren't visible. But the sharp angular bruise under one eye was. Right where the door shoved the camera into my face. I suppose I was lucky it wasn't the binoculars. I'd really have a black eye then. Possibly two. This was nothing a little makeup couldn't fix. Once I walked the gauntlet of sympathy stares.

I emailed Dolores what I found. Promised I'd be checking in. She thanked me profusely. The next day Muffin showed up. Damn cat.

Today most of my wounds were gone except for the bruise. I showed up for Mother's Day with my patter worked out: "My boyfriend Thor beat me."

This attempt at humor was received with mixed reviews:

Dad: You have a boyfriend? Since when?
Mom: Domestic violence is not a joking matter to the real victims.
Me: Okay! Truce! You're right. Bad joke. I ran into a door. Happy Mother's Day. Has the Jerk arrived yet? I want to have a word with him about a cat.

Moral of the story: just say no to favor requests.

Especially when your cousin volunteers you.