Thomasina - The Cat Who Thought She Was God (34 page)

MacDhui caught his breath sharply, for his friend had surprised him again, and at the same time relieved and pleased him, pleased him more than ever he had throughout their long relationship, for with the simple phrase delivered from a pure and gentle heart, he had confirmed to MacDhui and opened his eyes not only to his own God but to one with which the animal doctor knew he could live in harmony.

He drew slowly on his pipe, throwing a smoke screen about his thoughts as he searched them out, tracing them, remembering them far back, seeing detail upon detail. And when he spoke at last it was to say gently, “Aye, Angus. You are right. It was very beautiful.”

Noises emanated from the kitchen, where Lori busied herself with kettle, pot, and frying pan. They were the kind of sounds made in a house by a person who has come to stay.

3 3

W
ell, I warned you, didn’t I?

Did you ever hear of anything the like?

Now that I am back home again, I can hardly credit it myself, and yet there it is; I, Thomasina, taken ill, murdered by the very doctor who was supposed to cure me, buried by my friends, dug up by a strange woman, to live a strange life among strange people and animals under a different name until one night I apparently went to sleep in a drawer full of lavender bags and when I woke up I remembered who I was and came home.

But of what happened to me, or where I was up to that moment and from the time that I was put onto the table in Mr. MacDhui’s surgery and Willie Bannock held the chloroform rag over my nose, I remember nothing.

One day Mary Ruadh and the woman known as Lori who is the person who dug me up, and is now her mother, and Mr. MacDhui took me out to the glen where I was supposed to have lived under another name. I recognized nothing, or no one.

A big yellow tomcat with a torn ear and his face crisscrossed with love and battle scars—believe me, I know THAT type—came up to me and said, “Hello, Goddess! How are things?” I spit in his eye. I don’t allow anyone to take liberties with me. A Scottish terrier came yelping about, breathing his stinking breath in my face and shouting, “Hi, Talitha! Where have YOU been?” I let him have it too. I was glad when we left the place. I didn’t think much of it.

Shortly after my return Mr. MacDhui married the woman called Lori, which surprised me, as I did not even know they were acquainted with one another. She was the one the local gossips called “Daft Lori,” and said was a witchwoman and half mad, but that shows you what gossip is. She did not act at all mad. She seemed to me a rather plain and ordinary person, but pleasant and easy to get along with, and respectful of my rights.

The good thing in all this for me was that it provided Mary Ruadh with a mother, and pretty soon after she recovered and was about again, she stopped carrying me around all the time. Oh, did I forget to mention it? During the time I had been away, Mary Ruadh had been ill. Now that she no longer dragged me everywhere she went, it meant that I had some peace and time properly to look after my business about the house. But I still jumped up to the foot of her bed at night to curl up to sleep. Old habits are hard to break.

Oh yes—one rather big change and an amusing one I must mention. Upon my return, Mr. MacDhui suddenly came to the notion that he was fond of me and began making a fuss over me and sucking around me for favors and affection. Ha ha, can you imagine? He treated my cracked pads and torn claws as though I was some titled lady’s pet.

It didn’t go down with me at all, and I gave him the back of my tail. I hadn’t liked him before and I didn’t like him any better now. He still smelled bad, of old pipes and surgical dressings, and he still stuck out his beard and roared when things didn’t go the way he wanted them. But to me he was butter and honey. As soon as I found out that he
wanted
me on his lap now, I got down. When he called me I wouldn’t come. Whenever he picked me up to stroke me I laid back my ears and made myself stiff, or dug my claws into his arm. The trouble was he didn’t seem to mind and continued his insulting attentions to me. It’s exasperating when you cannot manage to annoy someone, no matter WHAT you do.

Still, one cannot have everything, and I suppose I ought not to complain now that life has settled down again. I have my comforts and Mrs. McKenzie treats me with the greatest respect since my return, and does not even complain when she finds me in one of Mary Ruadh’s bureau drawers, smelling lavender. And it is a relief not to be dangling over that child’s arm from morning until night. However, I would not wish her to become
too
casual about me, and every so often as a little reminder I jump to her shoulders and lie there, particularly outdoors where people can see me and point me out as the one everybody is talking about.

I was always aware, from the very beginning, that I was a most unusual cat, but now I am wondering whether it might not be that I am a very clever one as well; I rather think so. However it happened, all I can say is that this house is now run to my way of liking.