Like they say, sometimes an ill wind smells good.
For instance, when COVID first came and we all tried to not inhale within six feet of anybody else, my brothers-in-law Leech and Lurch started their own business: “MMD,” for Masked Men’s Delivery (Motto: “Six Feet Away & Sterilized”)
It worked out pretty good. They got their pick-up repaired and eventually updated the name to “Two Yats And A Truck (Still Sterile).” They even bring people to the airport and bus station and like that. They advertise special containers to keep luggage dry and safe. The containers are black garbage bags. Dry and safe as anything else.
Well, my mother-in-law Ms. Larda needed Leech to drive her to the eye doctor’s last month, so Lurch had to do the job they had booked that day by himself. Seemed easy enough. Just taking old Irma Langenhen and her enormous suitcase to the airport.
And her cat. And the cat’s kennel.
When he picks up Ms. Irma, she informs him that the kennel can go in the truck bed, but the cat – a long-haired black one named Charlotte – has to ride in the cab, because she gets carsick.
When Ms. Irma gets in, she is carrying a pillowcase that is squirming around. She explains that Charlotte is in there, because Google says cats feel secure when they are in a pillowcase. She puts the pillowcase on her lap and they start off.
Then the pillowcase goes nuts. It shrieks and meows, and one set of claws out comes out the top right corner of the pillowcase, and then another set of claws out the top left, and then all four of the corners have claws sticking out, and the pillowcase is making godawful sounds. Ms. Irma does her best to hold it still, but finally a furious furry head pops out the top, and Ms. Irma is holding a cat in a toga. So, she peels off the remains of the pillowcase.
Which gives them two minutes of peace, until Charlotte gets carsick – in the cup holder; on the upholstery, and finally outside, when it occurs to Ms. Irma to hold the cat’s head out the window.
Halfway to the airport, they got to stop in traffic at one of those lights that take forever to change. Well, Charlotte grabs her chance and zips out that window and disappears among all the other cars.
Irma leaps out yelling, “Charlotte!” Thank God this is New Orleans, where everybody minds everybody else’s business. So, when the light changes to green, nobody moves. Instead, perfect strangers get out their cars and run around peering under fenders and floorboards yelling “Charlotte!” Some of them probably think Charlotte is somebody’s kid, but no matter, everybody wants to help.
Finally. Thank God, some man hands a black long-haired cat through the truck window to Lurch, and Lurch quick stuffs it in the kennel in the back. Irma gets back in the cab; the cat settles down, and he manages to get them to the airport. Good riddance.
He drives on home, muttering to himself, parks in front of the house, gets out the truck, and before he can close the door, a long-hired black cat pops out from under the seat. It struts up the walk, and when he opens the front door, it says what is, evidently, “I live here now,” in catspeak, and zips inside.
Now, Lurch and Leech live in half a double. Ms. Larda lives in the other half, and they are connected by the laundry room in back.
This cat strolls right through the laundry room, mews real cute at Ms. Larda, then sidles up to her chihuahua dog, Chopsley, and purrs. And Chopsley, instead of growling, acts charmed.
Ms. Larda tells Lurch to go buy a litter box.
But what about the cat Lurch stuffed in the kennel? He calls Miss Irma and before he can ask, she tells him Charlotte must love flying because she sat in her lap and purred all the way there.
So Ms. Larda and them stop calling this new cat “Charlotte?” with a question mark at the end, and name her “Charmer” instead.
That’s what the ill wind blew.
