A Cat Story

 

"Pudd'n Nanners!"

"Tybalt!"

Jake wouldn't have that for a cat's name. He hugged the beautiful long haired Siamese kitten closer to his chest. Pudd'n was no more than a barn cat. His siblings consisted of a tabby and black kitten. He'd watched them be born on the front porch in a box set outside by Jake's mother. 

Jake gave his sister a warning. This was his cat.

"Tybalt is a much more noble name. Who calls a cat Pudd'n Nanners?" Cali, his pre-teen sister obsessed with Shakespeare, looked down at him as if she was ready to fight him for the cat.

He knew she wouldn't. She always had to give in to him because he was the baby and she was his designated babysitter for life. Not exactly a marriage, but he knew it would be for life. His sister would do as she was told because he was the only boy in the family. And they were on their own most days together.

It didn't matter if he was her thorn in her side. She had phone calls already from boys. But it always came back to him and of course, Pudd'n Nanners.

He ran around the side of the house with the cat. She followed. Her legs were longer and graceful, but he had the heart of an athlete.

"He's my cat!" She shouted.

"No he's not!"  He pitched his chin up as if he would win this. Didn't she know winners took all. She could cry all she wanted over this Tybalt fellow. But she'd cried when she watched Romeo and Juliet. He didn't know who in the hell Tybalt was. Why was she like this?

"How come you get everything?" She bellowed.

"I do not!" He pouted. 

"You know you do." Her arms were on her hips in her old cut-off. Her sneakers were full of grass stains and holes. She took him fishing late in the afternoon. They rarely ever saw their mother, who, he guessed, still worked at the factory.

They gave each other a sun wink in the boiling sun. Naturally, his stomach grumbled. It might have been breakfast or lunch. They were the only two here. Daddy was down in the creek bottom tending to the sows and their babies.

"You better fry us a fried egg or two," he demanded as he strolled to the back door with the cat, past the scraps that the outside animals ate. Cali fumed as she hugged herself. 

"I have to do everything around here."

They went into the kitchen. It looked as if something awful had happened. It was a grease fire, years ago, but the residue of the past still lingered across the ceiling and backsplash of the stove. There were piles of dishes towering on the counter. Cali's work was never ending. Of course, she was Jake's audience and he always needed her for something.

Yes, he supposed Pudd'n wouldn't be a name fit for such a prince like this beautiful beast that could be a show cat according to Cali. Jake stroked the cat and rubbed under his chin. He began to pur. He was their best prize position in this old farmhouse.

"Can't you think of anything else to name this goddamn cat?" He sat at the cluttered kitchen table.

"Momma said not to curse," Cali said as she went to get the skillet heated with just a little bacon drippings.

"A man has got to curse," he looked at her as she should not bring up Momma. Of course, Jake wasn't quite seven yet.

She didn't reply. She went to work as if she was his maid after all.

He looked around the homely and cluttered place. Damn, if this would be his, one day. He didn't want Cali to escape anytime soon.

"All right, we'll call the cat Tybalt," he snapped.

A smile almost came to her face. "Let's just call him Elvis." She grinned then.

"Elvis," Jake smiled back as if he liked it when they decided things together.