The next afternoon, Ed was putting away her groceries. Roy Cat jumped up on the counter. "Meow."
"Can it," she replied, grabbing a sack of canned goods and going into her pantry.
He padded along the counter, discovering a pack of fish and smelling it. Ed was putting the can away when there was a loud crash and a pained "meow…"
She emerged to find him backing away from the package now on the floor on three legs, the right front paw held up in the air. "What did you do?" she scolded, picking him up. He gave a strangled cry of protest. "Hush," she admonished, putting him back down on a table in the laundry room, taking the paw in question. "It's not broken, maybe a sprain. It could even be a strain. I'll tell you what though; we'll put a bandage around it so we know what paw it is and not hurt it again." He submitted to the bandaging and she carried him back into the kitchen. "You were better behaved than Ed Cat," she told him, surprised. He meowed at her. She laughed. "Alright." He started purring when she kissed the top of his head and licked her face. "Eww, Mustang Cat. That's gross."
"Meow," he complained when she put him down on the table. Her groceries had been put away and the fruit neatly arranged in a bowl.
She began counting. "Nine apples. I had bought ten." He sniffed one. "Don't even think about it." She put the loose one back into the bowl and stuffed it in the refrigerator. In the process, her back had been turned to the cat and when she returned, he was gone. "Where did you go?"
"Meow," he said from atop the toaster.
"That was fast. You must be a Basement Cat."
"Meow?"
"Basement cats are black and evil."
"I resent that remark!" Roy called out from her living room.
"You resemble that remark!" she shouted back. "Mamma Mia." She turned to the cat. "You! Get off the toaster!" The cat was picked up and put in the hallway. "Colonel Mustard!"
Roy walked into the kitchen, a mostly eaten apple in his left hand. "What?"
"Aren't you right handed?"
"Yes, but my right hand was suddenly injured less than ten minutes ago."
"Meow," said the cat.
"His fault," Ed said, pointing in the direction of the meow. "Anyways," the apple was taken and thrown away. "You owe me an apple. Thank you for putting up my groceries, call next time you want to drop by," she pushed him to the door, "and scram."
He left. "You're welcome!" He smiled at two young housewives as they passed him on the street.
"I wonder if the bookstore has opened yet?" One giggled.
"I do hope Ed has gotten that shipment of books we ordered in," the other replied.
"So Edwarda has opened a bookstore. I was hoping she couldn't find something successful to do and would have to come back," Roy muttered to himself. "I miss having her there to pick on."