The Fourth Magi

 

Part 2: An uneasy truce…

By the third week of their coexistence, Elmer and the cat had reached an uneasy peace, the sort of truce that might exist between two inmates forced to share a cell together. Even prisoners have names, although the cat was free to leave and the sooner the better, and one evening, after several bottles of beer, Elmer held a “christening” ceremony. From here on out, in the presence of God and man, the cat would be called “Ugly.” It was difficult to judge the cat’s opinion of his official moniker because he had, with great dignity, retired to his laundry basket in the cellar during the middle of the ceremony.

Elmer had taken to reading the weekly pet column in the newspaper, but he usually did so when Ugly was not around. One column on the benefits of “neutering” put a satisfied grin on Elmer’s face. He did most of his cat food shopping at the Wal-Mart, watching to see what other customers put into their carts and then reaching for the same products and reading the labels after he made sure nobody was around. As long as it wasn’t made in Mexico, it was probably good enough for Ugly, who began to fill out and his fur grew back and had sheen to it. Elmer credited the improvement to American animal husbandry.

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His trips to town became more frequent and Elmer sometimes stopped by Fields Farm Supply, pretending to browse, but most often to compare pet food prices. He was inspecting a tube of something called “Hairball Remedy,” when the bell over the store’s front door jingled and he heard Fred say, “‘Morning, Miz Bridgewater.”

Elmer looked up with interest and then scurried around the other side of the pet food display and absorbed himself with an aluminum dryer exhaust vent. It was stamped “Made in Mexico,” and he set it down in disgust. He watched her as she walked up the pet food aisle and she smiled sweetly at him. Elmer began to color and mumbled “‘Morning,” and turned back around toward the plumbing fixtures. He thought she looked like a former schoolteacher, tastefully dressed, tall and thin – elegant – and he detected a hint of some feminine fragrance. He watched her out of the corner of his eye as she selected a couple of products, including “Hairball Remedy,” and then made her way back to the front counter. Fred promised to have her order delivered the next morning and she wished him a Merry Christmas as she went out the door. Elmer noted her street address on the invoice next to the cash register as he slammed down a tube of “Hairball Remedy” and averted his eyes as Fred rang it up without a word. Elmer also noted the total on the invoice for her supply of cat food and litter. He shook his head and muttered to himself as he got into his truck.

Elmer drove the long way to Shadygrove, past the hospital and a new subdivision of exclusive homes, probably all owned by doctors and cut-throat hospital administrators. He wondered if the homes were more substantial than the “cardboard” duplexes his late brother-in-law had built in Florida and then sold to retired Canadians “with more money than sense.” He hadn’t talked to his sister in years, had never forgiven her for marrying that fool in the first place. At least she lived in a warm climate, he thought, and shivered as he reached for the heater control knob and cranked it up to “high.” Probably spends all her days gabbing and playing cards with the other widows and going to church.

Miss Bridgewater lived past the fancy homes, past a few family-owned farms that hadn’t been subdivided yet. Elmer drove slowly past the house and wondered if it was the right place and then he saw the hand-painted sign in her front yard: “Cats for adoption to qualified, indoor homes,” followed by her phone number. He slowed almost to a stop and noted the cracks and ruts in her driveway, several window shutters attached by only one hinge, and a gutter and downspout hanging down precariously and ready to fall in the next strong wind.

He shook his head as he stepped on the gas pedal and drove on. Probably does spend her whole pension on them cats! ‘Indoor’ cats. Wonder how many of them are damn ugly cats that just moved in on her and took over?

The cat was nowhere to be seen when Elmer came in his kitchen door. Good! Maybe he left, Elmer thought. He peeked down the stairwell to the cellar and saw a gray and white lump in his laundry basket. He hung his jacket over the back of a kitchen chair and quietly tiptoed upstairs, intending to take a short nap alone. Elmer rarely napped, but he was still recovering from having his bed invaded by a cat who took liberties. Having to sneak around my own house and all because of a damn trespassing cat!