 |
 |
|
CHAPTER VI
KALI, July 15 Sunday late nightIn fact he was the roughest cat that ever roamed at large
One ear was somewhat missing, no need to tell you why And he scowled upon a hostile world from one forbidding eye. T.S. Elliot When I woke up again, it was pitch dark. I was still damp and sore, and now I realized that I was freezing cold as well. I could hear a scratching sound close by, and then something touched my foot. Well, boy did the hair on my back rise up. Dark as it was, I could tell that there was a humongous rat just a few inches away. Now a mouse is one thing, and I could get into chasing mice as well as the next cat. But I was sure this rat was as big as I was, and me laid out near to helpless! I let out a squall I didn't know I was capable of and it left in a hurry. I lay there for a few more minutes, and I gotta tell you, I was starting to feel real sorry for myself. I was thinking I might never get back to the Mary Bee, when I heard a voice. I'd been listening to human voices for so long that I almost didn't recognize it. Then memories started coming back, and I realized there was another cat talking to me. It was a gruff voice, with a threatening tone. "Who's there? I say. This is my territory! What are you doing here"? I squinted my eyes in his direction. I know that cats are supposed to be able to see in the dark, but even the best of us need a little light, and it was dark as a witch's cauldron. All I could see was a white face and a glint of yellow eye. I looked again. Sure enough, there was just the one eye and a jagged scar where the other one should have been. I was glad to see him, but he was being downright rude, and I don't take that stuff off anybody. I growled right back at him. "Don't worry about it, Cyclops! I wouldn't want your territory if you gave it to me." (Sam sometimes reads aloud on the boat, and I remembered the story about the one-eyed monster. I was pretty pleased with myself, showing off my knowledge of Greek literature; but I guess he wasn't that impressed.) He raised his back up till he looked about twice as big as before and let out a pretty impressive hiss. I could see now that he was a yellow mackerel tabby. "Oh, knock it off,” I said. "You're being a big bully. Can't you see that I'm lost and hurt and half your size? You're just like those cats my mother warned us about!" That brought him back to size. He growled a little and circled around me. "What are you doing here anyway? You do look a little done in." He had a funny accent, not a bit like my mother's. Self-pity took hold of me again. "I was nearly eaten by a huge dog, I fell off the dock, and I almost drowned,” I said, “and I have no idea where I am, or how to get back home." By now I was mewling like a little kitten. "And on top of that, I'm starving!" Well that got his attention. "Follow me," he growled. Pretty soon he reached behind a big stake and pulled out a partly eaten bluefish. It was covered with mud and was most definitely not today's catch, but I wasn't gonna look a gift fish in the mouth. I began eating hungrily. Meanwhile he circled around me again. "You don't look familiar," he said, "and you talk real funny. Where are you from?" I didn't answer till I'd put away most of that bluefish. Then, feeling a bit more feline, I carefully licked both front paws, ignoring the mud that covered the rest of me. "I live on a sailboat," I said, "with my person Sam." "Hah!” he sputtered. "You're one of those blowboater cats, huh? I've seen them sitting up there on the bowsprits, looking like they think they're better than the rest of us. Shoot, that's nothing! I got real class. My great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandfather came over from England with Sir Walter Raleigh's men, back in 1597! Grandpa skipped ship when they got stranded here on their way to Roanoke Island! And my great-great-great-great-great-grandmother (now he was really preening) was a prime ratter and kitten producer for Blackbeard himself! Ratters we all were, the best! Still are," he added, licking a tuft of hair nonchalantly. Well, I was impressed. "You know who your family was way back then? Gosh, I don't even know who my father is!" "Hey," he said, slanting his one eye at me. “Maybe I'll show you around. Introduce you to some of the gang. You don't want to go back to that blowboat...Say, by the way, have those humans... um..." He stepped over and sniffed me, then growled in disgust. "Yep, they got you! You don't have a snipped ear so I thought maybe you'd escaped.” I stared at him. "I have no idea what you're talking about," I responded with dignity. "You know, fixed you. Fixed you, they call it, so you can't have kittens. They usually clip your ear when they do it. Me,” he added, bragging, "I'm too smart for 'em. I figured out how to hold the trap open with my tail, grab the fish, and haul buggy. They'll never catch me." "Well I don't know," I answered. "Sam did take me to the vet a while back, and I went to sleep and...Yes, when I woke up I did have a cut on my belly, all stitched up. Do you think he'd do that to me? How dreadful!" "You got to watch out for humans. They'll trick you. Around here they'll feed you good but whammo! The next thing you know you're no longer a self-respecting tomcat. And you ladies, you lose all interest in pussyfooting around; you're no fun at all. No offense intended, by the way. Yep,” he added, as he curled up for a long catnap on a piece of burlap. "You just got to know how to pull their ropes. Humans can be real useful, but you got to keep them in their place." HARVEY, July 16 Monday late morning I had rather be a dog, and bay the moon than such a Roman.
William Shakespeare You're probably wondering what I was doing in the dog pound anyway. It's a long story, believe me. I started out my life in a pretty normal fashion, I guess. I was one of eight puppies. We lived in a kennel inside a big fenced backyard with our mother in Roanoke, Virginia. We were weaned on Purina Dog Chow, had our shots on time, etc. Our mother explained to us that soon people would start coming to look at us, and that they would take us home with them, one by one. She said that was good, and we should try to be nice puppies and do what they told us. So I wasn't surprised when my brother and then two of my sisters were carried off. I was the fourth to go. The people who picked me out were a young couple, Jeff and Maria, and they seemed nice enough. My mother barked a final "Remember to behave yourself, Son" as they carried me out to their Ford Escort. I accidentally tinkled on the lap of the lady, whose name was Marla, on the way home. She made me sit on the floorboard then, but she didn't get mad. Back at their apartment I slept in the utility room, where I had my own blue plaid bed and a matched set of dog dishes. I settled in, learned to use the newspaper, chewed up a couple shoes--the usual puppy stuff. I guess things would have gone just fine if Jeff hadn't gotten a transfer at his job. I was eight months old at the time. Jeff said we'd have to move, but I wasn't unduly upset. Marla started getting the newspaper from Seattle and going through the Classified Section, looking for a new place to live. Then one afternoon, when Jeff got home from work, I heard her tell him she had found an absolutely marvelous little house to rent, very reasonable, but there was just one problem. It didn't allow pets. I was young and didn't realize the implications of that statement at the time. I heard them argue back and forth about what to do about "the dog," without realizing I was the subject of the arguments. Then a few days later Marla told me that I was gonna go live in a new home with her father. I stared at her in disbelief. Her father!? That old stuffed jacket!? He was the stuffiest, least fun person I had ever met! I jumped up on her and licked her hand frantically, trying to dissuade her, but it was no use. The doorbell rang one day and in he walked, gray hair brushed straight back, white goatee swirled immaculately. He didn't seem any happier to see me than I was to see him. Marla put my leash on me and Jeff got my bed and bowls. Dr. Monowsky gingerly took the end of my lead, and we all walked out to his car. We were barely out the door before I leaped down the steps, pulled the leash out of his hand, and tore around the block. Jeff grabbed my leash when I came back and told me, rather sternly, to get in the car, a big dark gray Galaxy 500. I pleaded with him, whining and wagging my tail as hard as I could, not to make me go. I could see he was feeling really bad, but he didn't change his mind. I climbed reluctantly, head and tail down, into the back seat. Marla reached through the window and kissed me on the nose. She and Jeff petted me one more time, told Marla's father goodbye, and closed the door. That was the last I ever saw them. I knew this was not going to work right from the beginning. Dr. Monowsky was a Latin professor at the University of North Carolina, and he lived in a big city called Raleigh. At first when I heard Jeff say that was where I was going, I thought they meant to Rolley, a friend of mine who's a big brown-and-white mutt and a ton of fun. I thought then it might not be so bad. But Raleigh was definitely not Rolley. Things couldn't have been worse. I heard Emily telling her replacement, Suzie, goodbye, and realized that the afternoon had slipped by. I'd been so busy thinking about the past I'd hardly noticed. I wagged my tail just a little as she came for me, hoping she was over being mad. She didn't act mad, but she acted plenty sad, which was even worse. If there's anything worse than seeing Emily sad, it's knowing I'm the reason. I trotted alongside her bicycle quiet as a rat, completely ignoring a gray tomcat that ran in front of us. When we got home I realized it wasn't just me she was upset about. She got on the telephone, and I heard her telling Annie's mom that it looked like the offshore drilling operation would be approved! Poor Emily!    |
|