I wish I could write as mysterious as a cat.–Edgar Allan Poe
Mr. E. is the new Head of Townhome Security. He arrived complete with medical records, microchip, belled collar, and his own personal demon.
The first week, he lived under the bed. We lived on the floor, tossing a toy mouse and slowly pulling back the string. On the seventh day, he emerged and explained the New Order. He is nobility; we are serfs.
The belled collar is a boon to us. Otherwise we wouldn’t know where he was until we heard the crash. He should have come complete with Neosporin and Band-Aids. He respects the castle and furnishings, but his subjects are dotted with puncture wounds.
In another six months, however, the demon will have flown. By New Year’s, we’ll be pining for the halcyon days when he was kitten-cute. If we can’t hold out that long, we’ll google for an exorcist.
Mr. E came to us from Austin Pets Alive! While we cuddled him, Kristin, his foster mother, told us about his background and personality. He’s a darter, she said, so watch out when doors are opened, and he loves to play with other cats. She even gave us her telephone number in case we had more questions.
The only question we have now is one even Kristin can’t answer: what’s his name? Edward? Ethelred? Earl Grey, perhaps? He’s not talking.
As he goes about the business of securing his domain, detecting intruders and rooting out crime, we’ll become become better acquainted. Then maybe he’ll follow the lead of Colin Dexter’s Inspector Morse and tell us what the E. stands for.
At this point, however, he’s all mystery.