Disclaimer:  The characters from Emergency! do not belong to me and I lay no claim to them.  Just having a little fun.  My thanks to the writer of “Alley Cat”, Charlene Sukins.  Some of the dialogue herein, belongs to her.

Roy DeSoto pulled Squad 51 out of its parking space at Rampart and drove toward the exit.  He shifted uncomfortably, his uniform still somewhat damp from this last rescue.

“It’ll be nice to change clothes and get some coffee, huh?”

Johnny, who had been gazing out the window with a thoughtful look on his face, turned his head.

“What?”

“I said it’ll be nice to change clothes and get some coffee.”

“Oh.  Yeah.  Yeah, it will.”

“So what’s bugging you?”

“Ah, nuthin.  Just thinking.”

Gage was quiet for a minute.

“Roy, what am I going to do with five kittens?  And the mother—she’s gotta go somewhere too.”  As he spoke, Johnny tapped his fingers on the dashboard of the squad.

The blond paramedic was quiet for a moment before saying, “Well, you could always take them to that animal shelter over on Wenham.”

Horrified, Gage stared at his partner, his mouth hanging open.  “Roy!  That place?  How can I take George, Coco, Smokey, Nima, and Randy to a place like that?”  With each word, Johnny’s voice rose in indignation.

DeSoto glanced at the man sitting next to him in astonishment.  “You named them already?”

“Well . . . yeah.”

Biting back a chuckle, Roy said, “Randy?  What kind of name is that for a cat?”

“Hey, I like it.  It’s—it’s manly.”

DeSoto rolled his eyes.  “That’s like naming it Kevin or something.”

 

As he backed the squad into the station, Gage scoffed and muttered, “Okay, Pally, what would you name a cat?”

Putting the vehicle in park, Roy shrugged.  “I dunno.  How about ‘Patches’?”

“Patches!” scoffed the dark-haired man, “That sounds like you’re naming a quilt or something.”

Again the senior paramedic shrugged.  “Hey, you asked.”

After exiting the squad, the paramedics headed for the bunk room.  They were greeted by the sight of Mike, Marco, and Chet on their hands and knees searching under the beds.  Before they could ask what was going on, Captain Stanley rushed through the door to their right.

“John, they’re gone, pal.  We went on a run, we came back, and the kittens were gone.”

“What do you mean gone?  Where did they go?” Johnny squatted and looked under his bunk.  “Did you look everywhere?”

“Everywhere,” answered Stoker.

“Cats are like that, Johnny,” added Marco, “Very independent and sensitive too.”

Roy interjected, “You know, I’ll bet she sensed that Boot was upset with her and that’s the reason she left.”

“Oh, you dumb dog,” growled Gage, glaring at Boot who was now lying on his bed.  “Well, where could she have gone?  I mean, do you think she’s gonna be okay?”

In an attempt to reassure his partner, Roy replied, “Look, like Marco said here.  Cats are very independent.”

“She probably found a new home outside,” agreed Lopez, “In fact, she’s probably close by.”

“Hmm,” muttered Johnny.

Suddenly, he turned and hurried toward the door.

Startled, DeSoto called out, “Hey, where you going?”

“Well, I’m going to get some milk and put it outside.”

After Johnny left the room, the remaining men looked at each other for a moment and shook their heads.

“It solves his problem of what to do with them anyway,” observed Cap.

The others nodded.  They filed toward the kitchen, deciding that coffee sounded pretty good about now.

It was about fifteen minutes later when Gage hurried through the back door carrying the saucer of milk.

Watching him, Roy questioned, “I thought you were leaving that outside for the cat.”

Smiling, Johnny replied, “Don’t need it.  I found ‘em.  They’re in a pile of weeds in the corner of the next lot.”  He dumped the milk, left the saucer in the sink, and hurried out of the room.  He returned seconds later carrying the box he’d prepared for the mother cat earlier.

“Johnny, don’t you think . . .” Roy let his comment trail off as Gage marched back outside with a determined look on his face.

It was another fifteen minutes before he returned with the box, now containing the mother cat and her five kittens.  He took them to the bunk room and placed it at the foot of his bunk before returning to the kitchen.

After he poured himself some coffee and sat down, he realized everyone was staring at him.

“What?”

“Now what are you going to do?” questioned Roy, spreading his hands apart, palms up.

“About what?”

“The kittens!  Your problem was solved until you went out and found them again.”

For a second, panic flitted across the other man’s face before he blustered, “Don’t worry.  I know what I’m doin’.  I’ve got a plan.”

“Watch out, everyone,” Chet crowed, “Gage’s got a plan.  Tell us o’ wise one—”

The station tones blared.

“Station 51, Engine 10, structure fire.  Capstone Ranch at mile marker 12 on Los Cantos Canyon Road.  Time out:  18:08.”

Within moments the crew was ensconced in their vehicles and ready to go.

“Station 51, KMG-365,” acknowledged Captain Stanley.  Hanging up the mike, he jogged around the front of the apparatus and pulled himself up into his seat.  With a warning bleat of the air horn, both vehicles left the station, sirens blaring.

Squad 51 and Engine 51 were the first to arrive on scene.  Their trip up the long driveway ended in front of a three-story house.  Heavy smoke and flame were showing from the upper windows on the east side of the house.  Hank Stanley immediately barked out orders to his men before requesting a second alarm.

After donning their tanks and masks, the paramedics approached the front door, which was slightly ajar.  Crossing the threshold, they discovered a young woman slumped against the wall just to the right of the door.  She was coughing steadily from the increasingly smoky air.

“Ma’am?  Ma’am, let’s get you outta here.” Johnny bent over to help her up.   He was surprised when she began to struggle.

“No!  No!” she cried between coughs, “Don.  Don and . . . the kids.”

“Where?  Where are they?”

The woman feebly gestured toward the stairs.

“I’ll go,” yelled Roy through his mask, “Get her outta here.”

DeSoto moved across the foyer and started up the stairs.  At the top, he discovered the man, Don, who was semi-conscious.  As quickly as he could, he maneuvered the stricken man up onto his shoulders.  Halfway back down the steps, he met up with his partner.

“How many?” he called, barely pausing. 

“Three.”

Roy nodded in acknowledgement.  He now knew they would be looking for three kids trapped somewhere in the upper floors of the engulfed house.

“I’m goin’ to the left.” Johnny nodded his head in that direction.  By stating his intent, his partner would know to turn to the right at the top of the stairs to begin his search when he returned after delivering Don outside.

As indicated, he turned left at the top of the stairs.  Crouching low, he pushed open the first door on his right.  His search of the first bedroom and an adjoining small bathroom revealed nothing.  Further along the hall, in the next bedroom, Johnny found a boy somewhere around seven years of age hiding under the bed.  A quick check of the rest of the room revealed a terrified little girl no more than five crouched in the closet.

Roy joined him in the room just as he was pulling the little boy out from under the bed.  Briefly pulling off his mask, Johnny shouted, “Roy, I’ve got two!  No sign of the third.”  Coughing, Johnny pulled his mask back into place.

His partner nodded and called, “I’m gonna go up!”  He pointed up toward the third floor, probably an attic.

Gathering the two children close, Gage hurried from the room.  As he descended the stairs, he did his best to reassure the little boy and girl that everything was going to be okay.  The trio rushed out the front door, and Johnny hurried across the lawn to where the parents were being tended to by paramedics from Station 10.  No more than five minutes later, Johnny was relieved to see DeSoto exit the structure and was happy to see he was carrying the third missing child in his arms.

Sixteen minutes later, the fire was under control.

* * *

Three months later . . .

Roy DeSoto pushed his way through the door to the locker room at Station 51.  He was surprised to see his partner sitting in his locker whistling while polishing his boots.

“Why so happy?” he grumbled, still fighting to overcome the effects of a restless night’s sleep.

Johnny stopped whistling and smiled.  “The kittens all went to their new homes on my days off.”

“You mean you finally found homes for them all?”

“Yup.  You know that family we rescued a few months ago from that house fire—that one on the ranch?”

“Yeah, I remember them.”

“Well, it just so happens that Dixie had a brilliant idea.  She thought they might be perfect candidates.  So, she talked to the parents awhile back and they agreed to take three of the kittens—one for each kid.  You know—to kinda help ‘em get over the fire and stuff.”

Roy nodded.  “Sounds good.  What about the other two?”

“Same deal really.  Remember the woman and little girl, Angie, from that plane crash?”

“Uh huh.”

“Dixie talked to the mom and found out that Angie’s having a tough time dealing with her father’s death.  Dixie and the mom thought getting the two kittens might help.  They picked up George and Randy yesterday.”

“What about the mother cat?”

“Oh—Josh Brean, the new guy over at Station 8, took her.  He brought his wife over and she fell in love with Penny.”

“I bet your landlady’s happy that they’re gone.”

“Yeah.  But at least she agreed to let me keep them until they were old enough to give away.  ‘course, the extra $25 I was paying her a month didn’t bother her any.”  Johnny sighed, the smile briefly dropping away.  “I have to admit—I miss the little critters though.  Especially Randy.

“Why Randy?”

“I dunno,” Gage shrugged, “he just reminded me of me, I guess.”

Chet Kelly, who’d been eavesdropping, poked his head around the corner and said, “What—was he scrawny and weak too?”

Gage flashed the other man a dirty look and looked back at Roy.

“Well, maybe eventually you can move to a different apartment—one that will let you have a pet.”

“Yeah, may—”

“Gage with a pet?  I dunno—might be kinda dangerous.  He attracts trouble, you know.”

“Kelly, you don’t know what you’re talking about,” growled the paramedic.

“Besides, he can’t do that,” Chet interrupted, “then he’d be depriving his landlady—she already thinks of him as her pet, you know--like an exotic pet.  You’ve seen her, right, Roy?  What’s that nickname she has for you again, Johnny?”

“Chet!  Chet, why don’t you just go play in traffic!”

Roy groaned, reached into his locker, and shook his bottle of aspirin to make sure he had plenty.  It was going to be one of those kinds of days.

* * *  The End  * **

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