Operation Catnap

Marion Ester didn’t go over the speed limit.

She paid her taxes well before they were due, wrote handwritten note of thanks whenever she could, and once she found a twenty-dollar bill in the frozen food aisle, and turned it in at customer service.

She was a rule-follower. A line-stander. A person who brought her own pen to the voting station.

Even when she had to park four blocks from church because the good spots were taken by newcomers who didn't know Sister Denise needed that stall for her sciatica van, she didn’t jaywalk. She took the long way around to the crosswalk, rain or shine.

But today?

Today was different.

Today, Marion was going to steal a cat.

It wasn’t just any cat—it was Lady Lila, a portly Persian belonging to her neighbor, Kate McGilvray, who believed in letting her cat roam free. This cat was a menace to the community, popping in her tomato garden, tormenting her corgi every chance she had.

“You’ll never guess what Kate just posted on that face book. She just posted that Lady Lila had another litter, Ted!” Marion had shouted to her husband while she was baking cookies for her church fundraiser. “You’ll never guess who the father is.” She came out wearing her ruffled apron covered in flower, look of disgust on her face. “Her own son! Did you even know they could do that?!”

Ted, her husband of forty-seven years, sat on the recliner responding by continuing to watch golf on tv.

Marion had tried everything—text messages, subtle conversations with her neighbour. She was just fluffed off.

“Its natural, Marion.”

“Its bad for them if they get spayed.”

She decided in that moment she was going to be a cat burglar. She would trap the cat and then take her to the vet. The world did not need more kittens, and definitely not incest cat babies.

“She deserves better,” she promised between her gritted dentures, pulling her ski mask down over her permed hair. “I have nothing to lose except… my dignity, my casserole reputation, and maybe my spot on the church bingo leaderboard.”

She put on her black orthopedics, the only t-shirt that she owned that says, ‘Jesus Loves Me’. She put on her mission fanny pack filled it with her reading glasses, a wrapped toffee, her mail key, a couple tissues and a single, laminated emergency prayer card featuring Saint Francis of Assisi, patron saint of animals.

She'd planned everything: the tuna trail to her window, a continuous loop rerecorded on her phone of kittens calling their moms and a makeshift grappling hook made of dental floss and a salad fork.

She was brilliant.

She was unstoppable.

Marion crouched behind the garden gnome she’d painted to look like Benedict Cumberbatch (it helped calm her during stressful moments). She peered through the hedge with binoculars she’d borrowed from her church’s “Birding with the Lord” club. Lady Lila was sprawled under the bright moon without a care in the world.

“Probably thinking about her next baby’s daddy”.

Marion whispered into her walkie-talkie. “Operation Catnap is a go.”

Ted, stood in the backyard doorway, holding a glass of prune juice and deeply not invested, replied, “You’re talking to a banana again, Mar.”

She was. She'd mistaken her potassium snack for the comms device again. She threw it in the yard. “Doesn’t matter.”

She started the audio on her phone. First song came blaring was It’s Not Unusual – Tom Jones. That wouldn’t work. She concentrated on next attempt. When the meows started, she felt success. Adorable mewling playing on loop from her phone was tucked beneath a suspiciously plush shrub. Lila’s ears perked. Her eyes interested and narrowed with curiosity.

“Come to mama,” Marion whispered, holding her tuna-tipped salad fork poised like a fencing sword.

Lady Lila approached with the confidence of a cat who’d gotten away with literal murder (there were rumors about the disappearance of several garden voles and one extremely unlucky parakeet). She paused at the audio trap, sniffed the tuna, then did something that made Marion’s blood run cold.

She flopped onto her back.

“No!” Marion gasped. “Don’t get comfortable! Follow the trail!”

But Lila simply lay there, dramatically licking her own toes like she was performing interpretive dance about betrayal.

Probably getting limber for her next cat sex party.

Marion sprang into action. With surprising agility for someone whose had two hip replacements she tiptoed across the lawn, looped the dental floss lasso around Lila, and hoisted her up like a particularly judgmental grocery bag.

“Gotcha!”

Lady Lila let out a yowl of indignation that shattered the silence of Fort McMurray. Lights flicked on across the neighborhood. Somewhere, a child screamed. Ted changed the channel.

Marion bolted toward her car, clutching the yowling fluff ball like a sack of sin. She gently plopped Lila into the carrier she’d lined with an old church bulletin and a single slice of bologna, then sped off toward the all-night vet like a woman possessed.

Possessed with righteousness.

At the clinic, she burst through the doors. “Emergency spay! Code tabby!”

The vet—who looked like he’d been woken from a deep sleep and possibly an intense cheese dream—blinked. “Ma’am… is this your cat?”

“No,” Marion admitted. “But it’s everyone’s problem.”

After a long pause, the vet simply sighed. “I’ve heard weirder. Let’s get her prepped.”

Two hours and one vet bill paid in cash under the alias “Marion NoLastName” later, Marion returned Lady Lila to Kate’s porch, gently setting her down with a note pinned to her fur:

“She’s fixed. You’re welcome. Also, maybe stop the cat orgies. Sincerely, A Concerned Citizen.”

By morning, the neighborhood was abuzz with mystery. Who was the Fort McMurray Feline Fixer? The Spay Bandit? The Cat Caped Crusader?

Marion just hummed to herself, sipping tea and watching Lila glare at her from across the lawn.

Sometimes, doing the wrong thing really was the right call.

Especially if it involved a ski mask, dental floss, and no more incest kittens.