That Devil Cat

Over the Top

By Will Combach-Comb

Readers will recall that last month's story on the return of Dr. Sir Rodney Schnockdurgle ended on a most unsatisfactory note. This persistent reporter followed the wet trail of tears, caught up with the unfortunate fellow and cajoled him into joining him at his favourite coffee shop in the heart of James Bay.

It took well over a half hour and four cups of strong coffee to settle him down sufficiently to elicit the following sketchy information about the ferocious animal which his wife, Waltraud Steinschleper, had rescued. Until then, the said animal, indeed a black cat, had been terrorizing the neighbourhood and had foiled any attempt to capture or dispatch it. Having found a home with the Schnockdurgles, it proceeded to alienate itself from Sir Rodney. It pursued him relentlessly about the apartment, stiff-legged, fangs bared, claws extended. Only Waltraud could handle it sufficiently to determine that it was a female.

In terms of diet, she would eat only the best food if those delectables were laced with a cup or two of vodka. She demolished every form of scratching post until they bought one made of a combination of steel and ceramic, which the cat worked at unceasingly, honing her claws to a sharpness that rivalled anything Gillette could have accomplished.

"Before we were able to give the cat her health shots, she savaged three veterinarians. They had to wear medieval armour and had to use enough tranquilizers to put a lion to sleep before their work was done. Each night at precisely midnight, she would demand going out. Just as regularly each morning six huge dead rats would appear at the door, some partially eaten, all of them horribly mutilated."

"Could you now tell me her name?" I asked softly and somewhat fearfully, considering the turmoil that question had caused him earlier.

"Her name is Meph...Mephist..." He was struggling mightily to control himself, and finally got the full name out, "Mephistopheles." He breathed a great sigh of relief, as if uttering that name somehow lifted his spirit, liberating him from the darkness which had engulfed him.

"Wow!" was all I could exclaim. "Sounds as if the name suits the character."

"Unfortunately, that is only too true. How my dear wife will manage to bring this animal to Canada will be a feat to daunt the bravest. But she is so resourceful that I am certain she will do it."

"Do you have a picture of Mephistopheles?"

"As I live and breathe, I believe that I do." He fumbled about in his jacket pockets and finally produced an image for us to view.

I had to agree. This was one unusual animal. We shall have to wait to see whether or not Waltraud will find a way to bring Mephistopheles to this fair island.