Harper Makes the Scene

By Gordon Hopkins On Monday I took the cat to the vet. I absolutely was not keeping him but I'd spent the weekend posting on social media, trying to find his owner, and having no luck.The cat wasn't chipped. I asked the vet to give him a general looking over to make sure he was healthy. When I picked the cat up to put him in the carrier, he felt light, almost insubstantial. He certainly was compared to my cats, both of which were heavy and solid. Had he not eaten in a long time? Was he malnourished? Or, perhaps, he was just old. I'd had older cats that felt similar. There was something in his demeanor that made me think he was old.Overall, he seemed healthy. The vet asked if I wanted him tested for feline leukemia. It was an expense but I didn't feel like I had a choice. I couldn't let him around my cats without knowing for sure, since the feline leukemia virus is contagious. I didn't know how long it would take to find his owner. If it was going to be a while, I couldn't very well leave him locked in the basement all alone for who-knows-how-long.Great. He wasn't even my cat and he was costing me money.So I said yeah. The receptionist asked for the cat's name and I explained I didn't know his name and I wasn't going to give him a name because I absolutely was not keeping him.“Well,” she said, sweetly. “We need a name for the file, so why don't you just come up with something for now?”Oh no. It was a trap. She thought once I gave him a name, he'd be my cat, whether I liked it or not. That's how they get ya. Well, it wasn't going to work. I'd give him a temporary name but it wouldn't make any difference. I absolutely was not keeping him.So I had to come up with something on the spot and the first thing that popped into my head, and therefore came out of my mouth, was Harper.Why Harper? I don't know. For some reason, at that moment the old Paul Newman movie, “Harper,” (1966) flashed across my brain. Again, I have no idea why. I hadn't seen the movie or its sequel, “The Drowning Pool,” (1975) in years.Those movies were both based on great books by Ross MacDonald, about a private eye named Lew Archer. I'm not sure why the film makers changed his name to Harper. I couldn't very well have named him Archer, since I already have a cat named Archie.Not that it mattered, since I absolutely was not keeping him.The receptionist typed the name into the computer and now I was committed. It didn't matter. I wouldn't actually call the cat by that name. Because I wasn't keeping him, there was no reason for him to learn the name.I returned to the vet later that day. Harper, uh, I mean the cat, was given a clean bill of health. I was also informed he was about three years old, judging by the condition of his teeth. Apparently, that's how you tell the age of a cat. I guess its kinda like the rings of a tree stump. Anyway, that meant he was about a year younger than my cats.So I took Harper, I mean the cat, home, I mean my home, not his home, because I absolutely wasn't keeping him. But he is clearly here for a while, so I had to figure out the best way to introduce him to Archie and Groucho.And that was not going to be easy. …to be continued.

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