World without Cats (34 page)

Noah laughed. “Listen to us. As if choosing names for the kittens was at all important. What matters is if they survive FHF.”

Tuesday morning of the following week, Vera relaxed at the clinic, reading the newspaper and sipping coffee, when a familiar figure entered. “Hello, Dr. Barnett, I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

“No, I’m just taking a break. Uh, I know you, but I can’t recall where from.”

“Sorry. I’m Sandra McNally from
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution.”

“Of course. Now I remember. You were here with Dr. Kraakmo last year.”

“That’s right. I’m still the lead reporter for FHF at
The J-C,
and I’d like to ask you a few questions, if you have the time. I’ve visited the CDC from time to time, and I’m pretty much up to date on their efforts, but I thought I might acquire a different perspective from you.” She pulled out her small recorder and, when Vera nodded her assent, turned it on. “After all,” she continued, “this thing with using the leukemia virus to carry FHF genes into eggs is your idea.”

“Well, mine and Dr. Chamberlin’s and his associate, Gary McKeever.”

At that moment, Vera’s phone chimed. It was Kal from the cat lab. “Gertrude has given birth to three kittens,” he said, “
D
,
E
, and
F
have joined us.”

“That’s great,” Vera exclaimed. “How do they look? Just a minute, Kal, I’m putting you on speaker. Sandra McNally from Atlanta is here.”

“Hi, Ms. McNally.”

“Sandra, please,” she called out.

“Sandra, I phoned to tell Vera that we have our second litter. Three more kittens were born last night. They seem to be in good shape. I’ll weigh them before I leave.”

Vera said, “Don’t forget to take mouth swabs for Noah.”

“Right. The swabs are right here. By the way, Naomi, Adam, and Eve have opened their eyes, and Naomi is exploring the cage.” In the end, they had decided to use biblical names for the kittens.

Vera laughed. “That’s wonderful.”

After Vera hung up the phone, McNally remarked, “Well, it seems I arrived at a propitious time.”

Vera nodded. “Everything is going as well as we could have hoped. I understand that the other labs—Moscow, Paris, as well as the CDC—are making similar progress.”

“I guess the big question on everyone’s mind is what are the chances for success … for survival of the domestic cat?”

Vera shrugged. “As you know, nothing like this has ever been done before. We can only hope that we’ve got the science right … and that Mother Nature will give us a break.”

McNally raised her eyebrows. “Do you believe in God, Vera? Is it okay if I call you Vera?”

“That’s my name.” Vera pursed her lips and pondered the question. “I guess I believe in some kind of God. Not the old bearded guy up in the sky, but a creative force that … oh, how can I put it … that started the big bang or something.

“In any case, whether our efforts to save the cats are successful or not, will depend not on any supernatural force, but on the validity of our ideas and on our laboratory and veterinary skills.”

McNally’s thumbs raced as she typed into her PDA. Vera stared. “Why all the typing?” she asked. “You’re recording our talk, aren’t you?”

“Yes, but I’m adding ideas for a column. You know, I’m not the only reporter here in Camarillo. I ran into several reporter friends, one from
The New York Times
and one from Fox News.”

Vera chuckled. “Don’t I know it! Almost every day, I have several show up, either here at my practice or over at the institute. I have to take time out to answer questions. I’m not complaining. The public has a right and a need to know what we’re doing.”

“You sound like a journalist.”

Vera shrugged. “Fortunately, Lowell Stanaland has hired a PR pro to deal with the press so Noah and I aren’t tied up. The guy puts out daily press releases on the institute’s letterhead describing the previous day’s developments, if there are any.”

McNally nodded. “I’d like to see some of them.”

“Sure,” Vera said, “I’ll transfer the entire batch to your PDA right now.” She opened her laptop and hit a few buttons. “Done.”

“Thank you so much,” uttered McNally. She eyed the small screen in her hand. “Nineteen of them. This is great!”

Vera was pensive. “There’s a huge amount of interest worldwide in the cat crisis. These press releases let everyone know when Adam the kitten opened his eyes, when Naomi could walk three feet without collapsing into a tiny ball of fur—every milestone.”

“Now you sound like a poet,” McNally said.

Vera was taken aback. “It’s interesting,” she observed, “that in the last fifty years we’ve had other calamitous declines in populations—some bat species, the Tasmanian devil, honeybee colonies—but in none of these did most people take such a keen interest. What’s different this time?” She answered her own question. “It’s obvious, isn’t it? Cats aren’t only our pets, they’re … they’re family.”

Noah was feeding baby Lilith mashed peas, managing to get about a third of the green pulp into her mouth. “We finished the DNA work on the first three kittens today,” he said.

Vera rushed in from the kitchen. “Why didn’t you tell me? What did you find?”

“It seems that two of them have the bullet, but we couldn’t find any evidence for it in the third. I think that
A
and
C
might survive FHF but I don’t think that
B
will.”

“They have names, now. Let me see …
A
is Naomi and
C
is Eve. Oh. The two females have the bullet, but the male doesn’t. I wonder if that’s significant. It would be ironic, in a horrific way, if only female zygotes were able to take up the bullet. All our work would be for nothing.”

“Three cats is hardly a statistically significant sample. Let’s wait until the other cats are tested. I understand that the group at the Pasteur Institute is doing the same tests, and we should hear from them in a day or two.”

“You’re right, of course. I guess I’m a bit anxious.”

“Aren’t we all? Incidentally, I don’t see the point of keeping the kittens in the cages any longer. Either they are resistant to FHF, or they aren’t. What’s the point of continuing to protect them?”

“Yes, you’re right, in a sense. However, I want to keep them secluded until they’re old enough to immunize with the routine agents such as panleukopenia and calicivirus. It would be a terrible joke if we succeeded in protecting the cats against FHF with the bullet, only to have them die of some ordinary virus for which we have vaccines.”

Noah wiped Lilith’s mouth for the tenth time. “Hadn’t thought of that.”

The next day, Angelo sent Noah and Vera an e-mail summarizing the progress at the CDC, the Pasteur Institute, and the Moscow Veterinary Institute. Vera read aloud to Kal and Jane from her computer screen. “Four kittens have been delivered to date at the CDC. All are healthy.”

“Hey, that’s great!” Kal declared.

Vera read on. “Six kittens so far in Paris, but one died during delivery. André Fidèle suspects a congenital defect of some sort. The Moscow Veterinary Institute has five healthy kittens.”

“Well,” Jane remarked, “it’s a start.”

Over the next month, all the queens gave birth to their kittens. All were viable, except a few that had died during birthing—one at the institute and two at the CDC. In Paris, one of the queens died during parturition, and the three fetuses she was carrying were lost. All the kittens at the Moscow Institute for Veterinary Medicine had survived and were thriving. By November 18, there was a total of eighty-seven kittens housed in all four labs.

On Monday, November 22, Vera was sitting in Noah’s office when his computer signaled a new e-mail. “It’s from Angelo,” Noah announced. He read the message aloud:

Noah and Vera

I have heard from André Fidèle at L’Institute Pasteur regarding their tests for incorporation of the FeLV-FHF vector into DNA of the kittens. He reports that of the 33 kittens surviving so far, 27 test positive for the vector. Of these, twelve are males and the rest are females.

Congratulations!

Now only one question remains. Will the incorporated vector protect the kittens against FHF?

Angelo

Noah looked up at Vera, and she at him. Her eyes became glazed. “Hold me!”

“Don’t cry,” Noah whispered. “I feel the same way. This is what we hoped for … It’s great news.”

“Just one tear?”

Noah pulled away to see she sported a big grin.

“Obviously, both sexes are equally likely to incorporate the bullet,” Vera noted.

By the end of November, technicians in the four labs had learned that, of the eighty-seven surviving kittens, twenty had not acquired the bullet genes. Those that had were about equally divided between males and females. Although the search went on for additional feral cats, no more were found in North America. A few were found in Norway, and five in North Africa, but all were already dying from FHF.

“It looks like we got started on this enterprise just in time,” muttered Vera one morning while scanning the newspaper.

“What?” called Noah from the kitchen.

“I said, I think we began the work with the feral cats just in time. They’re not finding any more uninfected cats anywhere.”

Noah came out of the kitchen. “None at all? Nowhere on earth? Unbelievable!”

Vera took a deep breath. “When I read stuff like this, I’m petrified,” she said. “Sixty-seven kittens on this planet capable of ensuring the survival of the species. Sixty-seven! I wonder what kind of odds the population biologists are giving
Felis catus
for survival. Of course, we don’t even know if the bullet will work.”

“I read a blog the other day on that very topic. Sixty-seven is right on the edge of the critical size for a population of small mammals to survive. Fortunately, the feral parents were acquired from different areas, and, therefore, have different gene mixes. We’ll have heterogeneity on our side. Also, there’s no doubt that these cats are going to receive the best possible care, and that will help ensure their survival.”

“Always assuming of course,” added Vera, “that the bullet actually protects them against FHF.”

“Well, yes, I have to assume that. If the four populations of cats survive, it will be important to get them interbreeding as soon as we can in order to keep the gene pool as varied as possible.”

Vera nodded. “Yes. I think we should start planning for that right away.”

“Whoa! Don’t you think we should wait until the big challenge?”

Vera stifled a sob. She rose and wrapped her arms around Noah. “I’ve got to believe that the bullet will be effective,” she said softly.

“Yes. Yes, of course.” Noah said nothing for a time. Finally, he asked, “When do you think we can expose the kittens to FHF?”

Vera thought a moment. “Well, first we’ve got to immunize the kittens against the other routine viruses. I figure we can start that on the oldest of the kittens in late December.”

“Sheesh. That’s a month off!”

“Uh huh. We’ll just have to take it easy until then.”

The day after Christmas, Vera immunized the kittens in the first batch, nine in all, against those feline viruses for which she had vaccines. She excluded FeLV, however, as this was the vector they had used to get the FHF genes into the fertilized eggs.

By the first week in January, all the kittens had received their shots. “Time to hurry up and wait,” muttered Vera.

“How long before we can let the cats out of the lab?” asked Noah.

Vera closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead with one hand. “I think we should wait at least a month for the vaccines to take effect, then we can let the cats out of the bag, so to speak. I understand that the other labs are planning to wait that long.”

“Whew! If patience is a virtue, we qualify as saints.”

On Valentine’s Day, the first three kittens had been weaned, and Vera announced that it was time to release them to the outside world. There was no fanfare, no press—no formal ceremony of any kind.

“Let’s do it,” she said to Noah and Kal.

“Of course, we’re probably putting Adam to his death,” Noah pointed out.

“I know. I know,” Vera responded. “That’s the point, isn’t it? Adam lacks the bullet. Eve and Naomi have it. If Adam dies and the other two live, we’ll know the experiment was successful.”

“They should be separated,” Noah said. “We could take one home …”

“Yes,” Vera agreed, “it will be a great playmate for Lilith. Besides, there should be plenty of FHF around from when Bastette had the virus. I’ll take one to the clinic. We know that the place is full of FHF, so that’ll be a good exposure. Kal, could you take the third home with you?”

“Sure. I used to have a cat before …” He shrugged. “Which kitten goes where?”

Noah said, “Let’s randomize the decision.” He grabbed a pocket calculator. “I’ll generate a random number from one to three. One is for Adam, two is for Eve, and three is for Naomi. Then I’ll do the same thing again for the chosen kitten’s destination. Okay?”

Vera and Kal nodded. Noah punched a few keys. “Adam goes with Kal,” he pronounced, “Eve comes home with us, and Naomi gets to reside at the clinic.”

Vera scooped up the two females and placed them in carriers. At the clinic, she decided not to house Naomi in a cage, but would let the kitten enjoy the run of the place. There was no point in protecting Naomi from FHF; she was either protected, or she was going to die anyway. After she prepared a soft bed of clean rags near the litter box, Vera grabbed a few cans of cat food left from a time when there were feline patients at the clinic.

When she arrived home with Eve, she put the pet carrier on the floor and opened its door. The kitten looked out with fearful eyes. Cringing, she then edged to the back of the carrier. Vera reached in, picked her up, and held her close to her chest.