The Painted Ponies of Partequineus and The Summer of the Kittens (15 page)

Some even make fun of him sometimes. I don't understand that. Anyway, Jimmy stays home a lot. That's why he's gotten so good at making model planes.

So anyway, Mom says I have this “mission in life,” my secret plan to help Jimmy get to be just like everybody else, at least as much as he can be from his wheelchair. I guess she's right. I'm always bugging him to go places with me, and when we're around the other kids I don't let them leave him out of whatever they're doing. I can be pretty pushy where Jimmy's concerned, like when we had our class picture taken. Besides, I didn't want to go to Hennigar's all by myself.

“Come on, it'll be fun!” I said. “And I've got some money. We can stop at Stirling's U-pick on the way back and pick a couple of quarts of berries, one for your folks and one for mine. They'll like that.”

I knew that would get him. Picking strawberries is one thing he can do even better than people who can use their legs. His wheelchair is real low to the ground, and the wheels slant in at the top. All he has to do is lean over the side a little bit and pick and put the strawberries in the basket on his lap, and he can use both hands 'cause he doesn't have to carry the basket or move it from place to place, so he can pick really fast.

“I'll ask Mom if she'll take us,” he said.

“No, let's walk. It's really nice out.”

“It's too far,” Jimmy said.

“No it's not. Besides, if your arms get tired I'll push you.” Sometimes I needle him a little to get him to do what I want. That's called psychology.

“Your legs'll get tired a lot faster than my arms!” he said.

“Let's go, then.”

Hennigar's was even more crowded than usual, and there was a long line-up at the ice cream counter. Some people offered to let Jimmy go ahead of them, but he wouldn't do it. They were just trying to be nice, but he never wanted to do anything that would call attention to himself. Only it didn't work, because other people noticed him more when he refused to skip the line-up than if he'd just gone ahead when they offered.

We each got a medium-sized waffle cone, peanut butter caramel cookie dough for Jimmy and cherry vanilla for me, and Jimmy insisted on paying for mine. That made me feel a little bit uncomfortable. In fact, ever since he kissed me the other day I've felt a little bit funny around him. Not that it was a real kiss, not like the one Emily described that she read about in
Cosmo Girl
where they used their tongues and everything. Yuck! Jimmy just sort of leaned over and brushed my cheek with his lips, and that surprised me and I turned my head sort of fast and our mouths came together for just a couple of seconds. We were both kind of embarrassed.

He never paid for my ice cream before. That's what boyfriends do for their girlfriends, right? So now I don't know if that's what we are, boyfriend and girlfriend, you know? I'm not sure if I like that idea.

I wonder if I feel that way because Jimmy's in a wheelchair.

We went outside and around the little pond to where the goats and the potbellied pigs are, in cages where people can feed them corn that they get out of little vending machines. Jimmy had some trouble with his wheelchair on the loose gravel, but he wouldn't let me help him. We crossed the bridge to see the rabbits, and then over the dam to the big peacock cage, and that was really tough going, up and down hills with roots sticking up in the middle of the path every so often, only Jimmy managed it all without my help, even though we'd have gone a lot faster if he'd have let me push him. He's as stubborn as I am sometimes.

On the way back we stopped at Stirling's U-pick for our strawberries. It looked kind of tricky to me, keeping the wheelchair from squishing the plants, but Jimmy did okay. I was picking and not paying too much attention to him, and when I looked up his basket was more than half full, while mine was less than a third, and he was reaching down and picking and plopping the berries in the basket like it was some kind of a race, which I guess from his point of view it was. I tried to catch up. I never deliberately let Jimmy win at anything if I can help it, but I've never been able to pick strawberries faster than he can, or raspberries either. I bet nobody in the whole world can.

We were gone a long time, and we were only halfway home when Mrs. Morris drove by and spotted us on the sidewalk. She pulled over and put her window down.

“Your Mom called me, Hanna,” she told me. “She wants you to go home right away.”

“Is something wrong?” I asked.

“No. She has a surprise for you.”

“What kind of a surprise?”

“I'll let her tell you herself.”

“Can Jimmy come too?”

“I'll bring him over after lunch. You want a ride?”

“No thanks,” I said. “It'll be just as fast if I run.”

The last thing I saw as I took off for home was Mrs. Morris getting out of their van and opening the back door so Jimmy could get in. He's really good at getting out of the chair by himself, and it's amazing to see him boost himself all the way up inside the van. He can even fold up the wheelchair and haul it in beside him. He's really strong, at least his arms are.

I got home in about two minutes flat, and Mom must have seen me coming, 'cause she met me at the door.

I was out of breath. “Mrs. Morris says you've got a surprise for me,” I said.

“Come on,” she said. “But come quietly.” She led me up the stairs and into my room. My closet door was almost closed, just like I'd left it that morning, and Mom opened it really slow, just enough so I could see inside. Maggie was lying on her side, all stretched out, only it looked like there was something attached to her belly. My clothes on the rod were blocking the light, and I pushed them aside so I could see better.

“Holy cow!” I shouted, and Maggie sort of flinched. “Oops, sorry. How many are there?”

“Four,” Mom told me.

“Did you know she was gonna have kittens?”

“I was pretty sure, only I didn't want to tell you ahead of time in case I was wrong.”

“Can I pick one up?”

“That's not a good idea. Getting born is a little bit messy, and she's just now finished cleaning them up. It's best if we don't handle them until they're a bit older.”

“What'll we feed them?”

“Maggie can take care of that.”

“Uh, sure.” I knew that. I felt kind of dumb. “When did they come?”

“I'm not exactly sure. I checked on her just after you left this morning and nothing had happened. I looked again about a half hour ago, and they had all arrived by then. Maggie was washing them.”

“They're so cute.” That seemed like the right thing to say. Actually, they didn't look like much of anything, just little blobs of fur. I could tell where their heads were, right up against Maggie's belly, and two of them had little tapered tails sticking out. I didn't know if the others had tails or not, 'cause I couldn't see them. Some cats don't have tails, right? And they had almost no ears, just little round stubs, not pointy like Maggie's. There was a grey one and two orange ones and one that was black and orange and brown and a little bit white, too.

“Can they walk?” I asked.

“No, they're almost helpless. They can't even see. Their eyes aren't open yet, and won't be for a week to ten days. They have to depend on their mother for everything for the first few weeks, just like human babies do.”

“Are they boys or girls?” I asked.

“We'll find out later, when they're bigger. This one is called a calico,” she said, pointing to the one who was all different colours. “She's probably a female. Males are almost never more than two colours.”

“How come you know so much about cats?”

“When I was about your age I had a cat named Sugar, and she had kittens too.”

“When can I hold one?”

“I think we should wait a day or two. Let's let Maggie get used to taking care of them.”

“Will she bite me if I touch one? I just want to see what they feel like.”

“All right, but reach out very slowly. If Maggie growls at you, don't go any farther.”

I leaned forward and put my hand out. Maggie didn't seem to be paying any attention, and I touched one of the orange ones very gently. I've never felt anything so soft in my life. Maggie didn't growl or anything, and I stroked the kitten a few times and it sort of squirmed around. It was one of the ones that didn't seem to have a tail, but when it moved the tail came out.

“This is a big honour for you,” Mom said. “Mother cats usually look for a place to have their kittens where they know they'll be safe, and she chose your room, your closet.”

“It's a good thing she didn't pick Dad's den, huh? Is he home? Did you tell him yet?”

“He left right after you did this morning. I didn't mention that Maggie might be expecting.”

“Is he gonna be mad?”

“You let me handle that.”

“Okay.”

Mom went downstairs to make lunch, and I sat and watched the kittens. Every so often Maggie would give them a few quick strokes of her tongue. She seemed pretty calm and relaxed, as if having kittens was no big deal. I wondered if she'd leave them to go downstairs to eat, or if we'd have to bring her food and water upstairs. And I wondered if she'd go outside to do her business. Then I wondered what we'd do when the kittens had to do their business.

Boy, I've got a lot to learn.

Really carefully, I reached out and patted Maggie's head, and she seemed to like it, so I did the chin-scratch thing and then stroked her back, well, her side really, 'cause of the way she was lying down. She didn't roll over to have her belly rubbed like she usually does 'cause the kittens were in the way, but she sort of stretched a little, so I kept on petting her. After a couple of minutes she started washing one of the kittens, the calico one, so I stopped.

I heard a noise in the hall, and the door started to swing open. A tiger stuck its nose into the room and sniffed around, and when it saw Maggie and the kittens, it crouched down really low and started slinking across the room. I sat right in front of Maggie and puffed myself up like the tomcat in
The Abandoned
so I'd look big and fierce, but the tiger kept coming, and it kind of reared up on its hind legs and looked something like Dad, and then it
was
Dad, and he was glaring at the kittens and saying, “Fleas! Mess! Scratch the furniture!” I was really scared and wishing Jimmy was there, only he wasn't, and I stood up and shouted “Go away!” and the tiger-Dad just sort of vanished, and right then Mom called me for lunch.

About one-thirty Mrs. Morris brought Jimmy over to see the kittens. We couldn't take them downstairs for him, so Mrs. Morris had to carry him upstairs. Jimmy didn't like that. He didn't say anything, but I could tell. He hates it when he can't do things for himself. Mom folded the wheelchair and took it up, and when Jimmy was back in it we all went into my room.

Maggie was still all stretched out, but she had her paw on one of the orange kittens, holding it in place while she washed it all over. It was turned around so we could see its little face, and it
was
cute, with a tiny pink pushed-in nose. It wiggled and squirmed and opened its mouth, but no sound came out. When Maggie was finished with that one, she let it go and it crawled back next to her belly. Then she began washing the grey one.

“I've never seen baby kittens before,” Jimmy said. He was leaning way far forward in his wheelchair so he could see. “Can I have one? When they get bigger, I mean.”

“Sure,” I said.

Then Jimmy looked at his mother, as if he should have asked her first, and she just smiled at him and nodded. Jimmy grinned. We stayed and watched the kittens for a real long time.

June 29
^th

 

Hey, Diary!

I just had the best day ever! More important, Jimmy had
his
best day ever!

He called me really early this morning and said his Dad had a surprise for him, only he didn't know what it was, just that I was invited too. And he said we might have to miss lunch, or at least have it late, so I should eat an extra big breakfast.

I almost didn't go. All I really wanted to do was stay home and watch the kittens some more. Yesterday I got to hold them for the first time.
That
was amazing! They're so tiny, and they're warm, and when you pick them up they make these little tiny squeaking noises, and any one of them fits completely in my hand with room to spare. Maggie doesn't seem to mind me holding them. I don't go anywhere with them, just sit right there where she can see me.

She almost never leaves them 'cause they seem to want to eat all the time, and she washes them a lot. Mom got her a kitty litter pan to do her business, and she used it right away. I wonder how come she knew how. And I wonder about the kittens, 'cause they're too little to use the kitty litter pan, but the blanket's still clean. Mom says Maggie takes care of that, too.