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CHAPTER V
KALI, July 15 Sunday early evening You must be mad, said the Cheshire Cat, or you wouldn’t have come here
Lewis Carroll I don't know how long I drifted in that awful black water, or how long I was unconscious. When I woke up, I thought for a moment that it had all been a nightmare, and I stretched out, expecting to feel the warmth of Sam's lean body. Instead I felt the slimy ooze of mud all around me. My fur was sopping wet, I hurt all over, and I realized that my nightmare had been real. I was lost somewhere on Ocracoke Island, and it was getting dark. I looked around me. I seemed to have drifted under a building of some sort at the water's edge. There were pieces of jetsam everywhere: waterlogged boards, tangled up fishing nets, a rusted anchor. I lay still, trying to remember. Sam would be worried sick, I knew, if I had been gone for long and frankly, I was worried about him. He just doesn't manage well on his own. I heard the motor of a passing boat, and a moment later a small wave washed up against me. I'd better get away from the water, I told myself, and started pulling myself in the other direction. I soon realized how exhausted I was, and I lay back to rest. Then I heard the sound of paws and, glancing toward the edge of the building, I saw feet that most definitely were connected to a big yellow dog. Well, let me tell you. That stopped me in my tracks. I didn't know what to do, so I just gave up and flopped back down in the mud. HARVEY, July 15 Sunday night Emily acted depressed the rest of the day, and I felt absolutely horrible. I didn't even try to get her to play ball with me, and I ignored the fish crows that bickered over a dead fish in the road on our evening walk. She filled my bowl with dog food, fixed herself a bowl of soup and climbed into bed early with a book, but I don't think she slept much that night. The only thing she said to me that whole evening was, "Oh Harvey, how could you have done that?" KALI, July 15 Sunday night A cat will be your friend, but never your slave.
Theophile Gautier As I lay there, too weak to even want to move and thinking I'd probably never see the Skipper again, my mind drifted backward. I wasn't always a boat cat, you know. A long time ago, I lived on solid ground and had a family with two brothers, a sister, and of course, Mother. My brothers were both yellow with stripes, and my sister was solid black. My mother was tabby, with a white bib, white nose, and white feet. I look just like her, except for the nose, as I realized one day when I looked in Sam's mirror. We all lived under a big green metal box behind a Kentucky Fried Chicken restaurant. Humans wearing uniforms and funny hats would come out and dump all kinds of good things to eat in the box. From the time our eyes were open, Mother had taught us that humans would do terrible things to us if they got the chance (she had barely escaped with her life on more than one occasion), so we would hide when they came out. But after they left, Mother would climb inside and bring out the most wonderful treats. Fried chicken is still one of my favorite foods, after all this time. Once a week, a huge truck would come and make horrible loud noises, worse than when Sam starts the engine on his boat, and we would all run and hide in the bushes next to the parking lot. We would watch as the truck would lift up our home and steal all our goodies, dumping all them into an even bigger box attached to it. Then it would drive away. We would wait till we were sure they were gone, then sneak back again, but our dinner would be all gone. One day, after the truck came--we must have been about six weeks old at the time-- Mother went off to find us something to eat somewhere else, as she often did when the box was empty. But this time she didn't come back. We waited and waited for her, watching and watching, getting hungrier and hungrier. Every time we heard a noise we would run out to greet her, but it would be that old gray rat or that skinny brown hound that used to scrounge around looking for scraps. We called for her repeatedly, and even crept out at night to look for her, but we never saw Mother again. Without her to lick our coats clean, we grew dirty and smelly from the greasy dirt around there. We also grew very thin. We missed her something awful, and cried a lot those first few days, but things began getting so desperate that we didn't have time to think about her much after that. One of my brothers decided to try and climb in the box and forage some food himself, and he climbed up on the wheel at the side. It was still a ways from there to the top, but he gave a great leap and soon had his paws over the rim. He disappeared over the edge, and we heard a thump as he dropped to the floor. We could hear him as he cried in delight over the scraps of chicken skin and buttered biscuits that he found, and he hollered for us to join him. My sister and my other brother just sat there and listened in envy, afraid to try but hoping he would bring some treats back with him like Mother used to do. But I was real hungry, and didn't like my brother getting anything over on me. I climbed up on the wheel like he had done and sprang wildly for the rim, but I was smaller than he was and I missed and tumbled to the asphalt. I tried twice more before I managed to hook my claws over the metal rim. I pulled myself up and peered over the edge. It looked dark and frightening inside, but I could hear my brother munching down on chicken bones, so I steeled myself to be brave and tried to slide down the metal surface. I landed on what must have been some cardboard boxes, and from the smell I knew there was something good inside. I had just started to claw one open when I heard the sound of a door slamming. My brother heard it too. His head jerked up, and as we heard human footsteps approach, he cried out a warning to me. "Run! We've got to get out of here!" With that he leaped onto the highest cardboard box and shot out the top into the daylight. I tried to follow him, but as he jumped, the pile of boxes collapsed behind him, and I found myself with nothing to climb on. It was far too high for me to jump out, although I tried desperately to climb the metal sides, ripping my nails to shreds in the process. The footsteps came closer and I heard my siblings, now hiding under the metal box, crying for me to hurry. There was nothing I could do, however, and as the shadow of the human passed over the box I slunk into a corner and tried to hide. The human tossed something in, almost hitting me, and then departed again. But no matter how hard I tried, after he left, I could not get out of the box. I don't know how long I stayed in that awful metal box. Every once in a while, another human would come and toss something in, and I would cower in a corner. I was too scared to even think about eating now, but it was hot in there and I was getting real thirsty. I mewed to my brothers and sisters, and they answered me in sympathy, but there didn't seem to be anything they could do to help. How I longed for Mother during those long hours! That was how Sam found me. It was nighttime, and I don't know how long I'd been trapped in there, but I guess I was getting pretty weak, because I didn't even notice the sound of footsteps as they approached. I was mewing weakly for Mother, not with any real hope that she would come but because I had nothing else to hope for. Suddenly I heard a man's voice right outside the metal box, and in the dim light I could see a face peering in. I tried to hide again, but he had already seen the movement as I ran, and now he was reaching a long leg over and climbing in. I didn't understand human language back then, so even though he was talking to me, I didn't know what he was saying. As far as I knew, the only thing humans did to cats was throw bottles at us or, if Mother was to be believed, worse than that. As I saw him reach a huge hand toward me I prepared myself to fight for my life. Humans cannot see worth a darn in the dark, as you may know, and it was pretty dark the night Sam found me. He was mostly going by the sound of me moving the boxes and my hissing as he blundered around and trapped me in one corner. He kept making this strange sound, which I now know was him going "Here Kitty, Kitty, Kitty" in a high falsetto voice, but at the time it sounded to me like one of those seagulls that hung around our metal box was choking to death. It didn't reassure me any, I can tell you. Anyway, I raised myself up as I high as I could and puffed my fur out as far as I could, and when he stuck his hand toward me I summoned all the strength I had left and bit it as hard as I could. He let out a holler then, and yelled out a few expletives, which I now know, are not acceptable in polite society. But if I thought one bite would discourage him, I was mistaken. He caught hold of one of those empty boxes and, with a sound resembling a big dog treeing a squirrel, threw it over me. Everything went dark, and not even my sharp eyes could see a thing. He began to slide the box along the floor and, still fumbling in the dark, he slipped another piece of cardboard under me. I was caught! It felt like I was being lifted up and then, after a number of grunts and groans and more of those expletives, I felt myself moving. It seemed like we went a long ways like that. The box I was in moved in rhythm with what I later learned was his fast walking stride. I kept expecting something positively horrible to happen to me, but we just kept bouncing along. I wondered where my brothers and sisters were, but I didn't hear a mew from them. Finally we stopped, and I heard a new sound, a sloshing sound that I did not recognize but that brought fear to my heart. Through the cardboard I could smell a new smell too, not entirely unpleasant, a smell that I would soon learn to associate with docks and fish houses and boat-like things in general. I felt myself being lowered down again, and then I was surrounded by the sloshing sound. There was a new motion now, one that I've since become used to. Sam was rowing me out to the Mary Bee in his rubber dingy. But all I know was that I was scared to death, and I began hollering for Mother at the top of my lungs. I continued hollering as he lifted me out, carried me down into the cabin, and closed the hatch. The next thing I knew I was out of the box in a place I'd never seen before. I slunk over to the nearest corner and crouched down, watching to see what the strange man was going to do. By now I was so exhausted that I knew I could never fight back if he attacked. But he didn't even look at me. He concentrated on his hand, which had something red dripping from it. He opened a little door and took out some white material, which he wrapped around his hand. Then he took a bowl out of a cabinet, held it under a spigot, and filled it with water. He set it down a few feet from me and then took a can out of another cabinet. He opened the can and the most enticing aroma ascended from it. He set it next to the bowl of water, opened the hatch and went back out. As soon as he disappeared, I stole over to the bowls. I drank and drank and drank. The aroma rising out of that other bowl was so enticing that, even though I was tired and scared, I took a few bites. It tasted divine! Then I found an opening, which led into a dark, cat-sized room, not more than a foot high and two deep, with soft things to lie on. I curled up in a ball and fell into a deep dreamless sleep. We spent the next few days like that. I hid when Sam was around, only coming out when he paddled ashore or went to sleep. He continued to set out dishes of water and cat food, and he would empty my litter box after I used it, but we saw very little of each other. Then one day Sam tied the dinghy tightly to the stern, pulled up the anchor, and hoisted the mainsail high above the deck. A moment later we were sailing out of the harbor at a good clip. I was petrified when the boat listed to one side and water sprayed across the bow, so I hid even farther back in Sam's clothes drawer. We did this for several days, but before long I grew tired of hiding in the dark. I started coming out and watching this strange man I was living with, and since he did not hurt me, I started to trust him. It took a long time, but we gradually grew to be friends, and as I said, now he could hardly get along without me. HARVEY, July 15 Sunday evening Pray tell me sir, whose dog are you?
Alexander pope E Emily took me with her that afternoon when she went to work at the ice cream stand. While she scooped ice cream cones, I just lay down under the tree and moped. You couldn't have gotten me up if you'd dangled a dead fish in front of me. I started thinking about how much better off Emily would be with a well-behaved black lab like Jackson, who lives up by the power plant. Or maybe with my friend Annie, a big white poodle who has perfect manners. I wondered if she was sorry she ever brought me home from the Raleigh dog pound. That is where Emily and I met, you know, and that is when my luck finally changed. I had been through some awful times by then, and was thinking I would never get out of the pound alive, not even caring very much anymore, when she stopped at my cage. It was like a miracle . Emily had been born on Ocracoke and had spent most of her life here. According to the stories her mom tells, she grew up with her feet in the water, whatever that means. She has lots of family and friends here and could have just lived in the family home if she hadn't been, as her Mom says, so hardheaded. But she wanted to get out and see the world. She moved in with a friend living over near the university at Chapel Hill and got a job waiting tables. This was all before my time, of course. I'm just telling it as I overheard it. She had started hanging out with the college kids and visiting the library in her spare time, and before you could shake a mullet's tail, she was wanting to go to the university herself. Started saving all her tips, and when her Dad realized she was serious, he started saving all the cash he made from crabbing. A year later, she enrolled in the biology department, got some of what they call financial aid, and graduated at the top of her class. Though how she got to the top is beyond me; she's afraid to climb up the big tree beside the house, as I should know since I occasionally chase a cat up there! After that she got a job over there in Raleigh working in some lab, but from what she says, she hated it. Missed the ocean, missed the salt marsh, and missed knowing all her neighbors. I guess there was some guy mixed up in it all too; broke her heart or something, I heard. Anyway, she decided to come back to Ocracoke. Before she came back, though, some friend of hers asked her help in finding her dog, which had jumped over the fence and gotten lost. They decided to check at the pound, and that's when she met me! I'd been at the pound near on two weeks, and I didn't even get up when she walked by. I was that depressed. I knew I looked awful. I had lost my appetite and was just skin and bones, as I'd heard one the volunteers that worked there say. My coat, which I normally pride myself on for being sleek and shiny, was dull and thin and patchy. I had given up hope of anyone wanting me ever again Emily walked by twice before she even noticed me. The dogs in the cages all around were barking and jumping up on the bars, calling out "Look at me! Over here! Aren't I cute?!" I just didn't have the heart to try. I guess she had been standing there for a couple minutes before I realized it was me she was talking to, saying in a soft voice, "What's the matter, boy? Don't you even want to come see me?" I stared sadly at the tall, slim lady before I slowly uncurled and got to my feet. I walked to the cage bars and sniffed the fingers she proffered, licking them to show my gratitude for her even bothering to stop. She stooped down and stared into my eyes for a few moments, stroking my head through the bars, continuing to talk softly. Then I heard her say to the attendant, "Could you take this one out for me?" When he opened the gate, slipped a leash on me, and handed it to her, I felt a glimmer of hope pass through me. I was on my best behavior as she led me into the sitting room. I heard the other dogs bark as we went by, "Hey, no fair! You got to be kidding! Why him?" I was proud as punch as she led me around, petting me and talking to me, and I tried to act as dignified as I could. But then I heard her say to the attendant, "You can put him back now." I guess that was one of the lowest moments of my life, and I behaved rather disgracefully, I'm afraid. When the attendant took the leash I pulled back, fighting as hard as I could, barking in desperation, begging the nice young lady to take me with her. With one last look at me, she turned her back and walked out of the room. I honestly wanted to die as I lay there in my cage that night, wondering what I had done wrong. Did I look worse than she had thought, once she got me out in the light? Should I have acted more playful, jumped up and licked her in the face? I was really ashamed of the way I behaved when she left. What was I thinking of? If I had ever had a chance of being adopted, I had surely blown it then. Frump, the chow/lab mix in the cage next to me, tried to make me feel better, telling me HE wouldn't want to be adopted by a woman anyway. But he had been one of the loudest barkers when she had walked by, and I knew better. He tried to put on a good face, but he wanted to get out of that place just as much as I did. When the attendant came back the next day and slipped the leash on my collar, I figured it was my time for the gas chamber at last. I followed along obediently, my eyes on the ground. Frump whined "So long, Buddy" in a sympathetic tone as I went by. When I heard a familiar voice on the other side of the door, I thought I was imagining things. "Don't be a fool,” I told myself. But then the door opened and there she was. Emily. I didn't know her name then, but I knew that she had come back for me.    |
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