It appears that I’ve received some sort of salvation from another species. I was sitting in the basement sorting out the last details of Margery Coleman’s profile. I expected her to be my last profile. I heard a sound coming from the small window in the back. I dragged the step ladder over to look out, and there I saw a gray and white tabby. I immediately recognized it as #374’s feline companion, Toonces, whose dander played a significant role in her profile. I could not understand what he was saying, so I went to meet him outside.
He wanted to show me something, so I followed him to the backyard to the old shed where Mother keeps her gardening tools. I never go in there due to my profound aversion to the smell of fertilizer. I might not have agreed to open the door if Toonces had not been so insistent.
Although the moon was in it’s fullest phase, I could only make out the faint outlines of things inside, but something caught my eye; a glint of something in the moonlight. I approached the back of the shed and began fumbling about until I found a glass bottle. And there wasn’t just one. There were shelves of them. There was a note attached to one of the shelves. I grabbed it, but it was too dark to read it. As I turned to go to the back porch light, Toonces began scratching at a sheet of canvas covering a rather large object. I pulled the canvas off and threw it in the corner. I knew immediately what it was. There was a note attached to it, as well.
I rushed to the porch to read the notes. They were both written by Mother. Then one from the bottles read:
These came for Jim. He asked me to store them for him.
The other one said:
Save. Jim might want this some day.
The bottles were a full set of the chemicals which I use to develop my scents. I have conjectured that I must not have had room left on my basement shelves. And the box was the alpha version of what Marie is now calling The Smellasizer. I had discarded it years ago.
I’ve transported the lot into the basement and I’ve begun to bring the machine up to spec. Perhaps Marie’s job can be saved after all. I’m not a good predictor of human behavior, but I suspect that this will make her happy. Now I must return to work.