Children of Bast (27 page)

“That’s some story,” Chubby said. It was dark and raining. He rolled over on his side and cleaned his paws.

“What gets me, though, is how you could stick to a mollie that was fixed. Where’s the fun in that?”

“You don’t know her. She’s really a lot like Adele. She knows what she wants and is tough enough to get it. But, she is so sweet and kind and giving. In fact, I have to watch her or she’ll give away everything we have, which isn’t much: a few mice, couple of sacks to sleep on. I love her, Chubby, and Adele approves.”

“And how’s Fergus?”

“He’s doing okay. He’s old, too. Sick a lot and not as lively as he was. Like you.”

“I warned you, Punk.”

“Okay. Just kidding.”

“How long have you been at the feed mill? That’s what it is, by the way.”

“Yeah, I know that now. About four months, maybe longer. It’s really great, Chubby. You’d love it. Hey, why not come back with me? You’ll get to know Millicent and Fergus, and most of the other amai are friendly. There’s so much food and warm places to sleep, that no one gets cranky. How about it?”

He finished his paws, sat up, and yawned. “Don’t know if I could go that far. You say it’s a long way?”

“Yeah. On the other side of town next to the tracks. You could make it. We’d take two days, maybe three. You’d be with me so you’d be safe.”

“I don’t know, Gaylord. I’ve been here all my life, know my way around and know all the amai in the clowder. Moving’s a big deal at my age.”

“Is any amait gonna be here when your time comes?”

“What’s it matter? You kick, off you kick off. We’re all by ourselves when we die, anyway. Besides, I think I still have some friends who’d be here. No, it’s not that I’m thinking about.” He looked away and watched the rainfall. I could tell he really wanted to come with me but was afraid of something.

“What’s going on, Chubby?”

He continued to watch the rain and said nothing for a while.

“I have a son,” he said at last.

“A son?” I was stunned. He never said anything about kiths. “The maama?”

He looked into my eyes. “Adele.”

“So, that’s why she treated you so special.”

“She treated me special because we loved each other, not because we had kiths together.”

“Okay, so tell me.”

“It’s simple, really, Gaylord. Old amai can settle mollies, too. It ain’t as easy as when you’re young, but we can do it. You’ll see in time.

“Adele appeared one day right after she’d escaped, and when she got rid of that garbage dump, Ralph, we fell in love right away, just like you did with her. She was like you when you first got here, soft and inexperienced. I helped her get it together. She came in, and, well, like I said, old amai do all right.”

I couldn’t say anything. I was feeling mad and hurt at the same time. That Chubby and Adele made kiths was not what ate at me. It was that they didn’t tell me right off. Now I stared at the rain, which was easing up, and suddenly, I saw Adele’s face smiling at me. I drew a deep breath and looked at Chubby who stared at me.

“Chubby, why didn’t you tell me?”

“Adele said not to. Said she couldn’t bear you leaving her, because she loved you so much. We’d had our day, now it was yours.”

I flopped on my side. “Okay, I can accept that. I still wish you had told me.”

“Would you have left her?”

“No. I’m an amait, remember, and even though I was green as grass, I knew mollies had a lot of toms.” I sighed and licked my paws. “I left because I needed to find myself. If I had known about you and Adele, I would have still gone away, but it wouldn’t have been because you had kiths. I knew Adele had a life before I showed up.”

“Sorry to upset you.”

“No upset at all. Now what about this son?”

“Adele had one kith. I know before you say it that that is rare. We thought so, too, but he was ours, proof of our love for each other. Well, as you know, Adele was a fickle queen, and as soon as Barakah—that’s what we called him because he was our blessing—as soon as she weaned him, she ran him off. I was furious, but she said he needed to get tough and learn to make it on his own.”

“So, what was all her khara about me getting tough and learning to make it on my own?”

“That was a different, Gaylord. She wanted you because she loved you. Her kiths she loved, too, but they got to her. Annoyed her. We don’t need to go over that again, do we?”

“No, but it’s really strange. What she wanted for her son, she didn’t want for me. Weird.”

“I told her that Barakah needed training, but she wouldn’t listen. Like you, it was the one thing about Adele I could never understand. That’s why I never settled her again. Too painful.”

“Yeah, I understand that. But what makes you think your son, Barakah, will ever show up? How would he ever find you, or how would you know each other?”

“He looked a lot like Adele. You don’t have to say it, Gaylord; I know he may not be alive. But if he is and he comes here, I want to be around. That’s why I can’t leave this spot. Believe me, your invitation is tempting, but I can’t leave. Do you understand?”

I thought about it for a moment and put myself in Chubby’s place. Could I leave? “I do understand, Old Friend. I’m not sure you’re doing the practical thing, but I do understand.”

I saw him in a different way now. He was more than just the wise old amait Adele and me knew and loved, the legendary warrior who had protected the clowder when he was a young tom. He cared for all of us and showed it with his love and loyalty; even to a son he didn’t know and, probably, would never know. From stories Adele told me, Chubby evolved from an arrogant, self-center amait, who saw life in a mirror, like me, into a teacher revered by all who knew him. I wondered if I’d ever achieve that status, but quickly realized it was stupid; amai like Chubby don’t come along too often.

“Okay. I’ll visit a lot, and I’ll bring Millicent and Fergus back, too, if Fergus can make it.” I went to him and licked his face and ears. “Love you, Old Tom. Thank you for being in my life and making me the amait I am.”

“The Gaylord I see in front of me has always been here. It just takes time to peel the husk off.” He laughed. I love you, too, Whippersnapper. Adele knew what she was doing when she brought us together, hey. Take care.”

“Adele was a genius, and you are, too.”

I turned and left quickly, running hard for several blocks until I stopped to rest under a tree so large it covered half a lawn. I sat, washed my face and smoothed my paws. I lifted my head and smiled, and without looking, knew Adele sat beside me, watching at me and smiling.

“I caught what you said about Chubby being more than just a wise old amait, that he was touched by something special. It’s called grace, Gaylord. Something I learned about after I died. It’s awfully hard to explain, but when you see Chubby, you know what it is. He’s . . . he’s grown up. He’s lived long enough to know who he is, but he doesn’t brag about it, like you did once. He lives it. Do you understand what I’m trying to tell you, sweet Gaylord?

“I think so.”

“Even now, amai look at you the way they looked at Chubby, and as you get older, they’ll watch you more and more, and listen to what you have to say. You’re moving down that same path toward Chubby, Gaylord.” She licked my ear.

“I’m not sure, Adele, but if I am, it’s because of you.” I licked her cheek as she faded away.

It was bright and the rain had washed the air. I felt so good I rolled over in the grass and wriggle like some demented, hairy snake.

As I raced home to Millicent and Fergus, I couldn’t help but think that my life was all I wanted it to be. If I died right now, I’d die a happy amait because I did everything I set out to do. How many amai can say that?

##

It’s funny how dogs and cats know the inside of folks better than other folks do, isn’t it?
Eleanor H. Porter (1868 – 1920)
Pollyanna
, 1912

~ ~ ~ ~

Epilogue

Right at dawn one June day about a year after Gaylord completed his narration and left, I heard scratching on my kitchen door. I opened it, and there stood Gaylord, and with him, I assumed, was Millicent whom I had not met.

“Can we come in, Professor? This is my love, Millicent.” She was the absolute beauty he had described.

“Of course.” I opened the screen wide enough for them, and they hopped inside. “To what do I owe this delightful surprise?”

“Just passing by,” Gaylord said. He glanced around the kitchen and I knew what he wanted.

“I thought you were a tough, rugged alley cat, Gaylord. But, I sense you want food. Sorry I don’t have a fresh rat. Best I have is something from a can.” I opened my cupboard. “Fish? Tuna fish?”

“Sounds good. Once in a while we like a change of pace.”

“Yeah. Mice get boring when that’s all you have,” Millicent said.

“Millicent you are stunning, just like Gaylord said. So happy to meet you.”

“Same here. You’re all he talks about.”

“Mice have fattened you up okay,” Gaylord quipped and gave her a playful shove. “But, you’re right.” He looked at me. “So, where’s the chow, Professor?”

“Manners. Manners.” I scraped the fish into bowls. “Is that all you came for?”

I put the bowls on the floor, and after they ate several mouthfuls, Gaylord said, “Just came to chat. But, I do have some sad news, actually. First, though, what about the book?”

“Published by the University. Sales are slow—very slow—but we never expected it to become a best seller, did we?”

“No. I just needed to tell it and get it preserved. Wish we amai could read.”

“I wish you could, too. I think I did a good job.” I smiled at him, and he came over and gave me a lick on my hand. “Okay, hit me with the bad news.”

“Fergus died when Low Water began. Millicent found him curled up in the corner of our nest at the granary.”

“I thought he was asleep and poked him like I usually do. He didn’t move.”

“He was gone, all right,” Gaylord said. “Thought I’d lose my mind. All my teachers are gone, now.”

“All?”

“Yeah. The other sad news is Chubby.” He lay down and curled his tail around himself and looked wistful.

“Gaylord, I’m so very sorry. Tell me about it.”

“Nothin’ much to tell. It was after Fergus died. Me and Millicent needed to get away, so we went back to the old neighborhood. We found his body under his shack. He died pretty much like Fergus did, all curled up, but he’d been dead a long time because he was all dried up and stiff. I cried like I’d never stop.”

I could see it was very hard for him when Millicent spoke up.

“I was so worried about him. Never saw him so down.”

“I loved him so much, Professor. I still hurt when I think about him.”

“Well, you’ll have to make rooms for them like you did for Adele and visit them a lot. Do you still visit Adele?”

“Some. Not as much as I did before, but some.” He looked at Millicent. “Adele said we’d move away from each other after a while, and she was right. Still love her, but Millicent’s my life now.” She came to him and kissed his nose.

We spent rest of the day chatting, eating and napping. Well, they napped; I researched my next book on conversational Egyptian during the time of the Old Kingdom.

Gaylord told me he had sired several litters the past year, with Millicent’s approval. She accepted that she’d been fixed and Gaylord had not. That he comes back to her remained the agreement, and he always honored it. In fact, she confessed to going to the queens he had settled and helping them with the kittens, or kiths as they call them. She said she missed being a mother, but caring for the kittens of other queens helped soothe the ache she had.

Gaylord said their life was pretty serene. All the mice they wanted, warm dry place to sleep and a bašar who were kind and loving. He insisted he didn’t get real close to bašar, as they call us, because he never wants to be captured again.

“I worry that Millicent gets too close and cuddly because she’s so beautiful and sweet. But I watch as much as possible, and if it looks like they’d snatch her, I raise a screaming, hissing ruckus until they drop her. She’s been close.”

Millicent looked at him wryly and said, “I’ll never get captured. I bite, remember, and they do not like biters.”

After some lap time for both of them, including some loving, rubbing, scent-marking, petting, scratching, kissing and more food, they departed around ten that evening and bid me farewell. I watched them cross my lawn, their tails entwined, and disappear into the darkness of the campus.

My life has never been the same since the day Gaylord first spoke to me. When I approached my agent with the story, she studied me closely for a long time, no doubt wondering if I was dangerous. I finally convinced her it was just a story, a novel of fiction; she relaxed and we got on with business.

The sadness of the book’s being considered fiction is for me deep because I want the world to know that cats can talk using real words. I’m afraid that will never be an accepted fact, mainly because we humans are too egotistical about our own intelligence, which we see as exclusive in nature. A few scientists study the possibility of animal transmission of information, but they do not approach it in terms of a verbal phenomenon. They study the noises animals make, try to discover how those noises communicate and think they understand. They don’t.