Shadow Cat (6) “Shadow is a nice name don’t you think?” Shadow asked proudly. “I do indeed.” I replied as though the name was new to me. I will call you Shadow too. If that’s O.K. with you.” “That will be nice. Thank you. Well anyway, as I grew I developed into a handsome feline. You can tell that I’m pleased with myself. Watch me when I move. Notice my upright tail and especially the tip as it gracefully bends repeatedly to the left and to the right. Unlike cats that walk with their front paws set wide apart for balance, I move with assurance. My gait is with steps taken on a straight line; one step at a time, each step in front of the other. My smooth stride is like that of a lord; in quiet confidence parading.” “I can see that your beauty is mysterious and regal” I commented. ‘Your owners must have taken excellent care of you.” I felt an attachment to my last remark. “Indeed they did. But of course the feeling was deeply mutual,” Shadow responded again with a sigh. “We were a family team. We traveled together to many places. My favorite trip was the annual winter retreat to the sunny climes of Florida. As a rule we traveled there by car. I enjoyed the trip by auto. On a couple of occasions we made the trip by air. In those instances I was placed in a carrying case; banished to the noisy and cold luggage compartment of the airplane. I didn’t like that!” Just then a couple of young people holding hands walked slowly by our bench. Shadow and I sat in complete silence. We did not continue our chat until the young lovers were well beyond our tones. Shadow picked up the story without missing a beat. “It takes a little getting used to things when the things are new. I remember the first time we used the car for the trip south. John Dear skillfully packed our luggage into the trunk of our Grand Marquis. Miss Terri hung her clothes inside the vehicle; on a cross bar hanging high over the rear seat from door to door. John Dear stored his golf equipment in singular pieces into every available cavity in the trunk. The golf bag was placed on the back seat, as there was no room for it in the trunk. Terri, ever the nurturing mother, placed my bed pad under her hung garments on the vehicle’s floor behind the driver’s seat. On the floor behind the passenger seat she arranged my kitty litter pan; amply stocked with scented granules.” “John Dear, thinking that the packing was nearly done, yelled a bad word when Terri pointed to a thirteen-gallon plastic bag containing her shoes. The journey was for three weeks. Terri had simply anticipated the changes that would be necessary for each day of the entire junket. John Dear had to vent his frustration. I stayed out of the way in fear that I might get trampled on.” Showing my understanding I offered, “I know the feeling. Been there, done that”, I said. “Miss Terri even had included a water dish for me. Under Terri’s front seat, she had sacked away packages of my favorite foodstuffs. But as with all things, Terri and John Dear finally reached the finish line. The Grand Marquis was fully packed. It stood at the ready showing a minor tilt. Talent for weight distribution was not a keen subject for my family. In any case we would soon be ready to roll. John Dear and Terri exchanged congratulatory glances as they entered the vehicle. He inserted the key into the ignition. With a twist of the key the motor whirred to life. The Grand Marquis, the luggage, my supplies and Terri and John Dear rolled out of the driveway on their way.” With an immediate sense for the unspoken humor of the situation, I started to feel a laugh coming on. All I was able to say was, “but you…” Shadow without hesitation sallied on. “Sitting like a suffering shoe on the ledge of our master bedroom window, I watched over their departure in puzzled wonderment. Before I could feel any pangs of loneliness I observed the Grand Marquis come to a sudden stop; about fifty yards down the street. From its’ enclosure I heard a scream. It was Miss Terri. Her voice was desparate and loud……. SHADOOOWWW !!!!!” Miss Terri yelled. I had a small tuna sandwich stowed in my jacket pocket. I pulled it out and gave Shadow a taste. Approaching the tasty morsel with feline delicateness, Shadow ate without gulping. I offered him more but he would not overstay his welcome to my kindness. I could tell that he had more to say. “Go on”. I said. “Please continue.” “When we returned from our trips Terri would show photographs to everyone. Each glossy would evoke ooooh’s and aaahh’s from everyone. There were even pictures of me. In each photo I was caught doing something different. In one picture I was asleep on John Dear’s lap. I always felt secure on his warm strong legs. I could recline in sleep there for as long as he would let me stay. In another photo I was caught leaping straight up in the air. It was no act. My jump was my spontaneous reaction to meeting a small southern snake. There was one photo of me that elicited some silly comments from on lookers. It was the one showing me on screen on a television broadcast. The truth of the matter is that I was not on television. The frame containing the image of my head and shoulders was, in fact, the open door of a washing mashine; often mistaken for a television set. I had gone to nap on a clothing pile in the machine. When I awoke I sat peering out of the open door. I remember the flash of the camera. It scared me!” “Was there anything that you did not like about your family? I asked. “No, I can’t say that I recall anything”, Shadow answered. “Things occurred that were in their time frustrating. Like the time my tail got caught in the closing auto door. Screaming, I was suspended in air; racked with pain. The door was immediately opened but it is a wonder that I didn’t lose a piece of my handsome tail. Another frustrating time was when John Dear left our grocery cart in the parking lot of the supermarket. The bags of groceries included food for me. I was hungry!” “Well”, I said, “You are lucky to have Terri and John Dear. They are obviously devoted to you. But it must be said that Terri and John Dear are lucky too.” Then realizing that we had been seated for much longer than I had planned to stay at the shore, I said, “it is getting late for me. I’m sure Terri is concerned for you.” “Oh” Shadow replied with saddness. “Terri isn’t with us anymore. Last year she went away. Terri has not returned since and she is not expected to return ever.” Deeply moved by this revelation I offered “I’m very sorry to hear that; but you still have John Dear!” “John Dear doesn’t spend time at home. He has changed. I miss his warm strong lap. But, I’m told that time is the best healer. Maybe things will change for me. I hope so! By the way do you think you’ll pass this way again?” Instantly I rushed to conciousness, awakening in a sweat. Shadow’s words were still ringing in my mind. I felt threatened by the possible loss of all that are most important to me. Tense, I rose from my bed. I wrapped my robe on and hurried down to the kitchen. Terri was there, fixing breakfast. I could smell the strong aromas of coffee and bacon. Everything seemed normal; even the sight of Shadow munching over his dish on the floor in the kitchen corner. His favorite salmon bits almost gone. “Hi Shadow” I cheered. “How are you this good morning? What do you say? Guess what we are going to do today. I’m going to take you to the pet groomer to get your beautiful coat cleaned, your nails clipped and your teeth cleaned too, while we are at it. What have you to say about that? After the pet groomer I’m going to get you a new bag of scented gravel for your litter box and a couple of new shovels to scoop the box clean. Cat got your tongue, what do you say about that?” “Hey, what’s going on here” Terri interrupts. “I’m just talking to Shadow;…..me and Shadow…..just talking….talking..!?” It was early December and the sights and sounds of Christmas were astir. I sat with my morning cup, and Shadow, at the kitchen window. Our gaze, fixed upward through the glass toward the cold gray outside, was on the gliding movement of a lonely petal. The leaf, browned and stiffened by the season, was in a delicate descent from the high branch of a nearby tree. In unhurried alternating twirls it hovered gracefully downward toward the ground. Through the window, Shadow and I surveyed the lofty arms of the towering tree. The cold limbs were naked. Terri came into the kitchen as I took the last sip of my cup of hot chocolate. “In a couple of weeks It will be officially winter”, she said. “You know what follows that!” “Sure, colder weather”, I replied. “And snow.” “Don’t be a Scrooge”, Terri warned, “where is your Christmas spirit? And speaking of that”, (which I wasn’t), “remember that we have decided that you and I, and Shadow, will go away for Christmas.” “Did I agree to that? What if he acts up during the drive? It might be a long ride.” ‘Shadow can handle the road. He is a seasoned traveler by now. Anyway, we are not leaving him home alone.” Terri was right, we had indeed discussed the notion of an old style holiday. The idea of a traditional early American setting at an Inn, preferably in a small village in New England’s hills, had its points. Such a setting, we agreed, would capture a hint, if not the essence, of the simplicity and spiritual warmth suggested in Dickens Christmas Carol. We both agreed that such a framework would enhance our appreciation for our Christian gifts; and strengthen our regard for the well being of “everyone!” Shadow, having heard his name being used, turned toward us. Terri lifted him up to her face. “Yes”, she continued, directing her comments to Shadow’s kisser, “Tell your Daddy that Shadow is coming with us. We wouldn’t leave pooky face behind”, she gushed, “now would we? Tell your Daddy that I have already made Christmas reservations at the Red Fox Inn in the hamlet of Windsor Gate.” Shadow tried to respond. His mouth opened and stuttered, twice, to issue his approval in cat talk. Windsor Gate: The early morning of Christmas Eve was frigid. I arose before Terri to get the car warmed up; and to pack our needs for our northeastern holiday. Before I was finished Terri had gotten out of bed. She made a light traveling breakfast, for us and for Shadow too, which she brought down to the car. She placed Shadow’s dish on the floor behind the front passenger seat. Shadow’s litter box was stored on the floor behind the driver’s seat. We left the back seat free of articles to provide Shadow with his own space. Certain that we had everything on board, Terri went back into the house to fetch Shadow. When we were fully ready, we pulled the car out of our driveway in time to see the morning light brightening the new day. We traveled the roadways for four hours. The main artery was snowbound Interstate 95. At a good rate of speed, it took us north for much of the way and into New England. Shadow made his presence known along the way. But, all in all, he was a good traveler. Never once did he show signs of nervousness. Never once did he noisily climb on the backrests of the front seats; walk the floor forward of the front seats; disturb my feet working at the controls of vehicular movement. I was concious, at all times, of Shadow’s whereabouts during the drive. One could say that Shadow had made the trip with calmness. While, on the other hand, one could not say that for me. We arrived at the hamlet of Windsor Gate before noon on Christmas Eve. There was a historic ambience to the landscape. The icy snow-white main avenue was lined with harmonious large wooden homes; fronted by grand lawn areas moderatedly punctuated with tall trees. The welcoming fragrant odor of wood burning fireplaces filled the air. Small shops clustered at the center of the main street. Christmas wreaths and lights decorated everywhere. Musical themes of Christmas escaped from the shops onto the sidewalks as patrons entered and exited shop doorways. Windows were framed in multipanes typical to colonial architecture. The commerce behind the windows varied from quaint inns to memorial goods sold to celebrate a time long gone. There were liquor stores, coffee shops and poultry vendors. The slow ride down the main artery was like traveling through a time warp. The nineteenth century charm was absorbing. The windows of residences above the shops were particularly small. The interiors of these buildings were characteristically of limited dimensions too. The sidewalks were constructed of brick. Standing at the curb stones were cast statues of boy figures holding a large brass ring. The rings were used to tie the horses; employed in colonial times for transportation. The local house of worship was built with granite brought in from the state of New Hampshire. Dickens would have loved the vista. The Red Fox Inn, a three-story enterprise built in 1803, stood on the south end of the main thoroughfare. We parked our car to the rear of the Inn; the front parking area was filled with autos belonging to holiday season visitors. I carried our luggage to the crowded lobby making my way to the front desk. Terri carried Shadow. As I filled out the registration card at the front desk, the desk clerk greeted us. “Welcome to the Red Fox Inn”, he said. Just as I was about to say “thank you” Terri howled behind me. Instantly I turned. Terri pointed toward the lobby portico. “Shadow got away from me”. “Stop”, I fumed at Shadow as he darted past the Inn’s elevator and then up the lobby staircase. “Shadow must have been frightened by the activity of the busy lobby”, Terri said painfully. The desk clerk, observing the situation, announced, “Sir you have a cat!” “I’ll alert the media”, I shouted, confirming the obvious. “ Your reservation did not stipulate a pet. You will of course be charged a premium for the pet’s stay.” “What Pet”, I howled. “It seems to me that rather than being concerned with charges, you should offer assistance to retrieve a disturbed cat running out of control through your establishment!” “Calm down, Lets register and get on with finding Shadow”, Terri urged woefully. The Search: The search for Shadow seemed endless. Terri and I looked and called Shadow’s name high and low through the corridors of the Red Fox Inn. In addition to our calling, Terri tapped a dish against a tin can of cat food; as she navigated the dark corners of the Inn. At one point, a man and woman with their pretty little girl stopped us on the second floor. The little girl, she said her name was Emmy, said they knew, as everyone at the Inn knew, that we were searching for our cat. Little Emmy said, “We saw a black and white cat. Is that your cat?” “Where did you see Shadow, honey”, Terri pleaded. “Is that your cat’s name? That’s a nice name”, little Emmy said. “Mommy, Daddy and I saw your cat on the third floor, this afternoon.” “That’s right”, her Daddy said. “We usually take the elevator when we are going up to our room. Anyway, we were returning to our room after lunch. Just as we stepped off the elevator on the third floor we saw a cat running down the corridor. Must have been about two o’clock this afternoon.” “Thank you”, I rushed in parting. Terri was already making headway up the stairs to the third floor; tapping the dish and cat food can all the way. I was right behind her. When we got there we saw nothing except the usual people coming and going. That was essentially how we spent Christmas Eve day. There were more leads that concerned guest gave us. But, the day was a bust. On Christmas morning Terri and I went to church early. Following that, on our return to the Red Fox Inn, we had breakfast. As we ate, Terri was developing plans for the continuance of our search for Shadow. Our discussion was interrupted when little Emmy and her Mommy and Daddy entered the dining room. “Have you found your cat, yet?” Emmy’s Mommy asked. “No, not yet”, Terri replied. “Oh, too bad. But I’m sure you will.” Emmy and her family went to their table. They were nice people, I thought. They seemed sincerely concerned. Just as I was about to speak my thoughts to Terri, the Inn’s manager approached us. “Good morning sir and to you madam”, he greeted. “I overheard your parting comments to the little girl and her family. I’m sorry that you haven’t found your pet as yet. “Thank you”, I replied. “Ah, but that is precisely why I want to talk to you both. The Red Fox Inn is concerned both for you and the Inn.” “What do you mean?” I asked suspiciously. “Well sir, it is like this. The Inn, as you can well imagine, has plans to entertain our guests in the holiday spirit. This evening there will be a play. The children of the Inn’s staff and the children of our guests will present the story of the manger. Of course it will be updated in that it will be relative to modern times. For instance, the children will use a carriage as a substitute for a bed of hay to cradle the holy child. The Inn is going to contribute to the children’s efforts a bevy of live ducks. Approximately ten ducks will be on stage. Don’t you agree that this will be fun? Well Sir and Madam, that is where the Inn has serious concern in connection with your delinquent cat. In view of the possibility that your cat might still be, shall we say, free, I have a vision of animal mayhem on stage.” Terri and I rose in silent coincidence. “Good day sir” we said in unison as we departed, leaving the Inn’s manager sitting alone at our table. The Play: Following a disappointing afternoon of fruitlessly searching for Shadow, I found the bar at six thirty. Terri had freshened up before joining me in a drink to drown our trauma. “We are not leaving this place without Shadow.” she commanded as she quaffed a sip eighty proof. “If we have to stay extra days we will stay for as long as it takes to find him.” “Lets get our mind off the problem this evening”, I advised. “What do you say? Lets visit the kids Christmas play. It will start in fifteen minutes.” We entered the Inn’s great room; used for special events. There was a small stage at forward center. Chairs were arranged in auditorium style facing the stage. There was noise behind the stage curtain. I could hear the children getting into their places for the presentation. I also heard a duck quack. That reminded me that there were ten ducks behind that curtain. “Do you really think that this will get our minds off our problem?” , Terri drolled aloud.
Copyright © 2003 John Caruso |