The house was an unpretentious, small, two-floor adobe on Apache Avenue. Not much to look at, small

adobe wall around the property, needed a brand-new coat of stucco about ten years ago, only no one

ever got around to it. Gate set in the arched entry made of well-worn, weathered planks. Squeaked

when you opened it. Only I don't open gates.

The house was an unpretentious, small, two-floor adobe on Apache Avenue. Not much to look at, small

adobe wall around the property, needed a brand-new coat of stucco about ten years ago, only no one

ever got around to it. Gate set in the arched entry made of well-worn, weathered planks. Squeaked

when you opened it. Only I don't open gates.

I was there to see a foxy little feline known as Snowball. Time was, we used to run together, me and

Snowball, but it's been a while and I didn't know how she'd react to seeing me again. Snowball liked to

play the field in her younger days, but last I heard, she'd taken up with a young tom named Blaize, a

calico with an orange lightning stripe running down his face.

I'd gotten the word on Blaize. Young and lean, hair-trigger temper. A young cat who still felt he had a lot

to prove. And with a gal like Snowball, you gotta prove yourself every time you step out of the house.

Not that I could blame him. Snowball was a stunner, even at her age. At one time or another, every tom

in town had tried to take a crack at her, but Snowball was the choosy type. If she didn't like your style, it

was aloha and the steel guitar. If you came on too strong and didn't get the signal, Snowball knew just

where to sink her claws.

She was one heavy-duty lady with a reputation as a pussy that was real hard to get, but that didn't stop

the toms. They came from miles away to sniff around. But Snowball had given Blaize the nod and Blaize

knew how to protect the turf.

I hopped down off the wall and trotted up the flagstoned path to the porch, supported by heavy, vertical

log columns. Snowball was curled up on the porch swing. The moment I saw her, the years seemed to

melt away.

She still had it all. In spades. A regal Persian, white as alabaster from her sexy little ears to the tip of her

thick and bushy tail. Every lush curve was a symphony of feline pulchritude. God, it took me back. For a

moment, it crossed my mind that maybe we could pick up where we'd left off, but only for a moment.

Snowball and I had already been that route. It was a good thing while it lasted, but it was never meant to

be. I've always been the independent type, never one to settle down, and Snowball was the type of cat

who required full-time attention. What she wanted, I didn't have to give. We both understood that and

the white-hot flame of animal attraction that we'd felt for each other had eventually faded to a warm and

gentle glow of friendship. Besides, she had a tom now and, by all accounts, Blaize was a real stand-up

puss. I was happy for her.

She saw me and her ears perked up, then she stood up, arched her back, and stretched, a display

purely for my benefit, and I could see that she hadn't lost a thing.

"Well, if it isn't a blast from the past," she said. "Hello, Catseye."

"Hi, doll."

The moniker was one that she'd come up with back when Paulie took me in to get my fancy eyeball. The

fine matrix in the sky-blue Chinese turquoise in my left eye socket ran in an uneven line down the middle

of the stone, lending the effect of a jagged, vertical pupil. She had dubbed me "Catseye" first time she

saw it and the handle stuck. Paulie and his human friends always called me by my given name, but to the

felines in the neighborhood, I was "Catseye Gomez," hardcase and all-around troubleshooter. I had to