October 8, 2005

Alice

Alice Aforethought would often sleep curled up on the floor right next to the bottom of the fridge where the warm came out from the motor that pumped the freon. She was a “mountain cat,” sort of a gray flannel all over, conceived and born on the southwest end of the Cumberland Plateau, whose daddy, the locals claimed, was a panther.

Keeping with the ways of country cats, she subscribed to a Vermont general store catalogue that came announcing the latest in polka dots and moonbeams. We never read it much, but neither did she. It was, however, an interesting way to keep track of how mailing addresses go from hand to brand in the curious ways of marketing.

A neat little creek ran across our twelve acres up near where she was born. The water was shallow and cold, just about deep enough to reach her belly when she could no longer resist jumping in and chasing the leaves floating by. It was about as frustrating for her as she ever got, having the thing about water and cat DNAs.

She was a watch cat and would growl at the slightest provocation by a camel cricket or a mouse, but seldom more. We kept a ten by ten by twelve block of poplar near the fire place with a hand ax embedded in its top. It was, of course, for chopping kindling. I assured Alice, however, that it was a Manx Cat Kit, put there to remind her who was boss. She never seemed much impressed.

Alice is not with us anymore. She’d probably want royalties for my using her private life like this, all public and all.

[Visit Episcopal Relief and Development at http://www.er-d.org/ to make a donation to Katrina or Rita Relief or Episcopal Migration Ministries at emm@episcopalchurch.org to volunteer to assist displaced people with housing.]

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