World without Cats (2 page)

Noah headed down the hall to the lab. He greeted Gary, who awaited him at the door. The normally even-tempered youth looked uncharacteristically flushed and somewhat out of breath. His blond hair, usually neatly combed, was disheveled.

“This really sucks,” Gary said. “How am I going to finish my project?”

Noah ignored the question. “We should probably disinfect the laboratory,” he said. “The intruders may have brought in contamination.” He fumbled nervously for his keys.

“Here, I’ve got it,” Gary offered as he stretched out the retractable keychain clipped to his belt.

They entered the lab and donned the lab coats that were hanging by the door.

Noah made for the cat room. Inside, all the cage doors stood open, and not one of the thirty cats remained. The full implication of the theft now hit him. He felt dizzy. He went back into the outer lab, where Gary was already busy swabbing down the work tables with disinfectant. Noah looked up at the chalkboard and read the neatly printed message: “ANIMAL RESEARCH IS SCIENTIFIC FRAUD –
CLAWS”

Noah was aware that the so-called Cat-Lovers Animal Welfare Society had been implicated in vandalism of research labs throughout the country. He grabbed a bottle of disinfectant and started to assist with the clean-up. Shortly afterward, two security officers in starched tan uniforms, one male and one female, made their appearance. After they entered the lab, Noah politely advised them not to touch anything.

“Oh … okay.” replied the burly, dark-haired man whose badge identified him as Perkins.

The officers inspected the cat room and outer lab.

“No sign of forced entry,” noted Perkins. “They must have had a key.”

The woman with him, Officer Blount, took copious notes on a digital notepad. She informed Noah that there had been a rash of animal-liberation incidents at university laboratories around the state recently, and that rarely were any of the animals ever seen again. When they were finished, the inspectors departed, leaving Noah to ponder his immediate course of action.

“I have to get ready for biochem,” Noah said. Crisis or not, his course had to go on. “We’ll go ahead with our experiment this afternoon,” he mentioned as he left the lab. “We may as well continue with our work until the cats are returned.”

Noah scrubbed his hands at the sink and splashed cold water on his face. He wandered back to his office, sat down at his desk, and opened his notebook to protein synthesis. He tried to focus on the topic—ribosomal assembly—but couldn’t stop obsessing about the theft of the cats. He put his head in his hands, and his thoughts returned to the student protests of the prior August—protests that had delayed his research by three months. Lost in thought, he remained thus until student voices in the hallway signaled that he was going to be late for his lecture.

2
 

Gary McKeever reclined on his sofa, analyzing a difficult paper on plasmid vectors. He was unaware of Jane’s approach behind him until she slid her arms over his chest.

Gary flinched, dropping his e-reader. “Damn!”

“I’m sorry. Forgot how absorbed you get when you’re studying,” she whispered in his ear. “How about a hike up Sycamore Canyon tomorrow? It’s Saturday, you know. I’ll pack a lunch, and we can relax on the beach afterward.”

Gary took off his glasses and rubbed his brow. “Sounds good.” He turned and picked up the e-reader, kissing Jane on the cheek as he returned to it.

“We should leave early in the morning,” she said, “so we’ll be able to finish hiking before the heat of the day. I’ll phone Dr. Barnett to make sure she doesn’t need me tomorrow.”

Gary turned and, with an amalgam of aesthetic and biological appreciation, watched Jane’s shapely figure retreat to the kitchen. Her blond hair was uncharacteristically mussed. That’s my fault, he figured, probably happened when I kissed her after dinner. He wished she didn’t have to work part-time for the veterinarian.
Jane should concentrate on her courses,
he mused.
She barely has enough time to work on her English-lit term paper. Every time I ask her to move in with me, she says she isn’t ready for such a big step.
Gary shook his head.
Why does she spend so much time driving to her parent’s home in Ventura. What is it, fifteen miles one way?
He returned to his reading and began typing notes into his laptop.

“Gary,” Jane called from the kitchen, “do you mind if I ask Anneke to join us tomorrow?”

“No, not at all.” Anneke was Jane’s closest female friend. Gary had met her just the previous week when the three of them had attended a Mozart concert at the university. All he knew about her was that she was a computer-science major, an animal lover, and a strict vegetarian. He got up and walked to the kitchen. “Tell her to get here early. I’ll drive.” He saw that Jane was assembling tuna sandwiches. “I thought Anneke was a vegan.”

“She is,” said Jane, “but she’s not real strict. Anneke eats fish. She says fish aren’t sentient creatures like mammals, and that it’s important to consume omega-3 fatty acids.”

Gary shrugged.

Anneke arrived at seven thirty the next morning, and, after coffee, juice, and muffins, the three set out in Gary’s Honda. “Thanks for letting me tag along,” Anneke said from the back seat.

“Hey, no problem,” Gary replied. “Glad to have you.”

Sycamore Canyon was located in the Santa Monica Mountains; the trailhead was near the ocean. Gary pulled the car into the parking area by the beach, and the three of them set out up the path in silence. Gary didn’t find Anneke particularly attractive.
Too skinny for my taste. She should do something with her hair—a ponytail doesn’t work for her; even her wire-frame glasses aren’t stylish.

“
Aooo
,” Jane cried out.

Gary stopped. “What?”

“Nothing,” Jane said, “just a lizard that caught me by surprise.”

Gary chuckled. “Forget the lizards and watch out for rattlesnakes instead. They’re active at this time of year.”

“There are rattlesnakes here?” asked Anneke. “If I had known that, I would have thought twice about coming.”

Gary replied, “Just stay on the path, and you probably won’t meet up with one. There are coyotes and mountain lions in these mountains too, but they aren’t likely to approach a group of people.” He wondered how a woman who’s supposed to be an animal-lover could be so uneasy near wild animals.

“I’m from Chicago,” said Anneke. “We don’t have wild animals like that in Illinois.”

“No, but you’ve got wolves, don’t you?” said Gary. “And bears? I guess Californians have a different perspective than Midwesterners. You guys want to rest?” he asked as they came to a large, flat rock.

“Sure,” said Jane.

Gary passed around a canteen of water.

Anneke took a swig, passed it to Jane, and turned to Gary. “I guess we’re safe as long as we have a strong guy like you to protect us.” She smiled.

“Hey!” Jane cried out. “Stop flirting with my boyfriend.”

Although he knew Jane was joking, Gary felt a flush spread over his face.

“I was just kidding around,” said Anneke. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

They sat in silence for a minute, catching their breath. Anneke then said, “Say, Gary …”

“Yeah?”

“What kind of research are you doing at the U?”

“It’s molecular biology. I’m working on a cat disease.”

“What do you mean a cat disease? Do you infect cats with a virus or something?”

Although he knew Anneke was an animal-lover, Gary was startled by the tone of her voice. “Well, yes … no … it’s a hereditary disease. It’s called macroerythrocytic feline anemia—or MEFA for short.”

“I’ve never heard of it.”

“It’s rather rare,” Gary noted. “It’s kind of like sickle-cell anemia in humans.”

“I think we better get going,” Jane interjected.

“Right,” said Gary, grateful for the interruption. He certainly didn’t want to get into a debate on the use of animals in research with Jane’s best friend.

The trio resumed its trek up the canyon. Gary tried to think of a way to reach Anneke.
Should I tell her about all the advances in human disease prevention that have resulted from animal research? How about all the safety precautions we take?

“Do you use real cats?” Anneke asked, breaking his thought train.

“Of course we do,” he replied. “We hope to be able to make the cats better with recombinant DNA.”

“You mean that you put foreign genes into the cats? Isn’t that dangerous?” She stopped walking and brushed the dust off her pants. “Besides, I don’t like the idea of using animals for research.”

Gary turned to face her. He opened his mouth and started to speak, but Jane interrupted: “All right, you two, let’s just enjoy the hike.” As if to add emphasis, the sweet song of a finch came from nearby.

Gary ignored Jane’s plea. “Look, Anneke,” he declared, making an effort to keep his voice under control, “we treat the cats humanely. We keep them well-fed, we clean up after them, we take care of them if they get sick. I would say that our cats are a lot better off than feral cats.”

Anneke asked, “Do you keep the cats in cages?”

“Yes, they’re kept in stainless-steel cages that are cleaned every day.”

“Shit! You think that cats in cages are better off than cats running wild? I don’t think so.”

Gary stared at Anneke’s wrinkled brow. Her mouth was a thin line. He took a deep breath and changed the subject. “Hey!” he cried. “Look over there. There’s still some water in the stream.” The three of them left the path and climbed down to the almost-dry riverbed. “Watch out for the nettles,” cautioned Gary, pointing to a plant with small, purple flowers. “They’ll give you an itch you won’t forget.” A California jay squawked at the intruders from a tree on the opposite bank. It flew down and drank from the trickle of water a few yards upstream.

Anneke traced her initials in the dirt. She frowned. “Why do you have to use cats? Why can’t you use computer modeling? A lot of medical research is being done that way.”

Gary realized that Anneke was not about to be distracted. He noticed Jane staring angrily at him. Turning back to Anneke, he said, “I wouldn’t know how to do that. A feline disease has to be studied in cats. We do use computers in the research, but they are an aid, not a substitute for the actual science.”

They continued on up the path a short distance, but Gary was becoming overheated. Either the hot July sun or the confrontation with Anneke was beginning to make hiking unpleasant. “I think we ought to go back down to the beach and have lunch,” he said.

After working their way down the canyon, they drove the car to a parking area by the sand and spread out a blanket. The surf was low, and, although it was a warm weekend day, there weren’t many other people about. Jane unpacked the lunch while Gary passed out soft drinks.

Again, he tried to bridge the gap with Anneke. “Don’t you agree that knowledge about animal diseases can ultimately be used to find the cure for human diseases?” He glimpsed Jane rolling her eyes.

Anneke responded, “Sure I do, but that doesn’t justify the use of animals for human benefit. Animals have rights.”

“I think humans come first,” Gary replied, a trace of anger in his voice.
She won’t give it up,
he thought.

“The animal-rights issue is like the slavery question during the nineteenth century,” she said. “Today we look back on slavery and wonder how otherwise good, God-fearing white people could have justified it. But, of course, they did justify it, at least in the South, using any number of economic and pseudo-scientific arguments. I think, in fifty or a hundred years, we’ll look back on animal experimentation in the same way.”

“There’s no comparison,” grumbled Gary.

“You’re too involved with it to see it.” She shook her head and walked, alone, to the water’s edge.

The remainder of the outing did not go well. Jane tried repeatedly to change the subject, but the two would not let go of the argument. Finally, they had to cut the trip short and return to Camarillo. Anneke departed in silence while Jane just glared at Gary.

“What?” said Gary. “It’s not my fault that she’s some kind of fanatic.”

“You could’ve just not talked about the cats so we might have had a more pleasant day.”

“But it was Anneke who wouldn’t let it go,” he grunted. “Aw, shit, never mind.” Gary grabbed his music player and inserted the earbuds, ending further argument.

Leon and Rebecca Smith of Sweet Home, Oregon, did not have many possessions in their small cabin. They did have an old RCA phonograph and a collection of vintage 78-rpm jazz recordings. But what they loved most was their all-black mouser named Bib. Bib stood for “Black is Beautiful.” The couple was asleep one evening when Bib, prowling in the nearby forest, came upon a rabid squirrel. The animals fought to the death. Bib, the survivor, sustained several injuries from the squirrel’s claws, but had not been bitten.