Chapter Twelve: Motherhood Wins the Day!
I know, she was just a cat, and I don’t like cats, but there comes a time when a guy is forced to deal with Life as It Actually Happens. Gertie Cat had won my heart. A storm was coming, the bull had destroyed her shack of hay, and by George, we were fixing to move her into the machine shed.
I picked up one of the kittens in my enormous jaws—very carefully, by the way, which wasn’t my usual style, but I’d seen Gertie do it—I picked up the kitten and was heading out of the stack lot when Gertie came walking back.
We met. I tried to speak, but I had a mouthful of . . . well, kitten, so my greeting was a bit garbled. Well, she stopped, sized me up with one quick sweep of her eyes, and addressed me in a quiet tone of voice.
“Put down my child.”
WHAT? I just stood there, too shocked to move or speak or do anything. She went on.
“I know you don’t like us and you want us to leave. I know you’re big enough to whip me and make it look easy, but Buster, your face’ll look like fresh liver.”
I let the kitten slide out of my mouth. “Hey Gertie, there’s a storm coming. Let’s get these kids down to the machine shed before it hits.”
She stared at me. “Are you serious? I thought you hated cats.”
“Ma’am, could we save the heavy philosophical questions for later? I don’t know what I think of cats, to be honest about it, but I know that you’re one heck of mother and you need a warm, dry place for these kids.”
She started . . . I couldn’t believe it . . . she started crying. “I’m sorry. I lost my head. I try to be polite to everyone. I hate for my kids to see me this way, but sometimes I just . . . oh, I’m a terrible mother!”
“No ma’am, you’re a wonderful mother. You saw what needed to be done, and you did it. You didn’t think about it or argue about it. You just went out and . . .” I had to laugh. “By George, gal, you did thrash that bull.”
She smiled through her tears. “Yes, I guess I did, but if he came back again, I’d probably faint. I was so scared, I didn’t know what else to do.”
“Heh. You did right, and you did well.” A rush of damp wind blew over us. “Let’s get these kids moved. Grab a cat, and let’s go.”
I picked up my kitten and made a dash for the machine shed. The wind was swirling, and the air was filled with dust when I rounded the southeast corner. There I ran into . . . guess who. Drover.
He stared at me and stared at the kitten in my mouth. He let out a gasp. “Oh my gosh, Hank, what are you doing?”
“Arp muff ruff ork fuff muff.”
“I can’t understand you. I think you’ve got a cat in your mouth.”
I set the kitten down and faced the runt. “I’m transporting a kitten, Drover. Do you mind?”
“Well, I was afraid you were going to . . . but you wouldn’t do that, would you?”
“It’s fixing to rain. We’re moving the kittens inside.”
“Aw heck. You’re helping them? Gosh, how sweet. You’re helping a poor mother cat and her little babies. That’s about the sweetest thing I ever heard, and I think I’ll just cry.”
“Fine. You stand out in the rain and cry. Or maybe you could lend a hand. Go grab a kitten and help us.”
“Well, you know this old leg of mine . . . and I’ll bet they don’t taste very good, and they might have fleas.”
Sometimes . . . oh well. He was worthless. He was born worthless.
I picked tip my kitten, left Drover to sniffle, and rushed into the machine shed. I dropped Kitty Number One and went back for another. Gertie and I passed each other coming and going. We each made three trips, and at last we got the job done. By then, the wind was rattling the tin on the machine shed, and the rain was making a roar on the roof.
We found a little pile of gunnysacks near the back of the shed. I fluffed them up with my front paws, and that’s where we parked the family. Gertie and I gave each other a smile, and we sat down to rest and enjoy the sounds of the storm.
“Well, Gertie, it’s a little dusty in here, and the gunnysacks don’t smell too great, but it’s not a bad place to be on a stormy night.”
“Yes. Thank you, Hank. I know this must have been hard for you, helping a family of cats, but we appreciate it, don’t we children?” They all clapped and cheered.
It kind of embarrassed me, to tell you the truth, so I changed the subject. “Hey, we’ve got a good supply of Co-op dog food in that bowl over there. You and the kids help yourselves. We need to get a little meat on your bones. I mean, any mom who goes around fighting bulls needs to stay in shape.”
She got a laugh out of that, but then I noticed that her expression grew dark. She seemed to be staring at something near the door.
She spoke in a low whisper. “Hank, who is that over there?”
“Oh, it’s probably just Drover. He’s my . . .”
It wasn’t Drover. It was Pete, staring at us with those weird yellow eyes and twitching the last two inches of his tail. Oh, and you know what else? He had turned on his police-siren yowl, and there he sat, staring and yowling.
The next thing I knew, Gertie had flattened her ears, raised a strip of hair down her back, and turned on her own police-siren yowl. I darted my eyes from one cat to the other. This wasn’t making much sense.
“Hey Gertie, I don’t know what you’re seeing over there, but what I’m looking at is just a cat.”
“I know, and I don’t like him. Who is he?”
“That’s Pete, our local barncat. He’s fat and spoiled and lazy and generally a sourpuss but probably harmless.”
“He doesn’t want us to stay.”
“Hmmm. What makes you think so? I mean, you two haven’t even met.”
She broke her concentration long enough to look up at me. “Cats don’t have to meet or talk. We’re subtle, you know. The angle of an ear, the way we walk, a gaze that lingers—they all say something.”
“I’ll be derned. So what is Pete saying?”
Her eyes went back to Pete. “He’s jealous. He doesn’t want any competition. He thinks this is his ranch, and he wants to keep it that way.”
Well, that got my attention. “Oh really? How foolish of him to have such wild thoughts. Maybe I should have a little talk with him. Would that make you feel better?”
“Much better. I don’t trust him around the children.”
“Let not your heart be troubled. I’ll be right back.”
I lumbered over to Pete. He watched me with hooded eyes and an odd smirk on his mouth. “Evening, Pete. Nice rain, huh?”
“Who are they, Hankie, and why are they here?”
“They’re friends of mine, Gertie Cat and her six kittens.”
His smile soured. “How nice. Six whining brats to disrupt our peace and quiet. They’ll be leaving soon, I hope.”
“They’ll stay as long as they want. They’re my special guests. Is there any particular reason why you’re here, yowling and glaring at them? You’re making Gertie feel unwanted.”
His eyes popped open and he flashed a gleeful smile. “Really! She’s very observant, and after she observes me for a couple of hours, I think she’ll be ready to leave.”
I chuckled. “Won’t happen, Pete. Sorry.”
“It’ll happen, Hankie. You just wait and see.” He swung his eyes back to Gertie and turned up the volume on his growl. She gathered her kittens around her and cast worried glances in our direction. “See? She’s already thinking of moving out. Some cats, such as me, have amazing powers over others.”
“No kidding!”
“It’s true, Hankie.” Suddenly his eyes were locked on me, and he was flicking the end of his tail back and forth in the air. “And what works on cats can work on dogs too. Just watch the end of my tail, Hankie. Back and forth, to and fro, watch the tail, nice and slow.”
“Hmm. I’m feeling sleepy all of a sudden.”
“Um-hm, you’re feeling sleepy, and on the count of three, you will drift off into a nice, deep sleep, and you won’t wake up until tomorrow morning. And you’ll never be any the wiser.”
“Mercy. I can’t seem to . . . snork morf . . . keep my eyes . . .”
“Just let them drift shut, Hankie, as you float away on a big, soft feather bed.”
“Feathery clouds drifting snorkly amork.”
“One. Two. Three. You’re asleep now. You’re out of here, Hankie. You’re history.”
How could I have fallen asleep? How could I have let down my friend Gertie? How could I have been so dumb as to fall for Pete’s sneaky trick of hypnopotomizing me with his tail?
Heh, heh. Watch this.
My eyes popped open. “Nope, didn’t work, Pete, sorry. And now you’re out of here.” I snatched him up in my jaws, and let me tell you, fellers, that was one surprised cat. Heh. Trying to pull that watch-the-tail business on the Head of Ranch Security! What a dumbbell.
I hauled him to the door, drew back my head, and slung him out into the pouring rain. He landed in a big mud puddle. When his head came up, he looked like a drowned possum.
“Stay out of the machine shed and leave my friends alone, you selfish, ill-tempered little scorpion. And I hope you enjoy the moisture.”
Well, what a perfect ending to the day, throwing my archenemy (who hates water, by the way) into a mud puddle. I loved it.
Holding my head at a triumphant angle, I marched back to Gertie and the kids and received a hero’s welcome. Pretty nice ending to the story, huh? Gertie had helped me keep the bull out of the stack lot, and I had provided her family with a home.
Yes, I know it was a little confusing. I, a dog who didn’t like cats, had come to the rescue of a cat and six kittens, and in the process had given the bum’s rush to a cat who didn’t like cats, while Drover, who did like cats . . .
Oh well. All I do is tell them stories. It’s not my job to explain them.
Case closed.
No, wait a second. There’s one last matter, and you may find this hard to believe. The next morning, Slim rebuilt that whole south fence around the stack lot, and we’re talking about new posts and handcrafted postholes, new wire that he actually stretched with wire stretchers, new staples, and a new braced corner.
Pretty amazing, huh? I know why he did it. First, when the bull ran away with Gertie wrapped around his face, he vaporized the whole south fence. In other words, even Slim couldn’t patch it. And second, the rain softened the ground so much that even a lazy hired hand could dig postholes in it. Slim would never admit that, but we dogs know the truth.
Just thought you might be interested.
See you around.
Case closed.