Cat Tales for Children

Childhood is lacking something without animals. Yesterday's topic brought back memories from the long-ago. A tiny tot with a big imagination, I was playing in the orchard with my brothers when the family cat came toward us, her voice raised emphatically. The boys were all for getting on with the game, but as the cat persisted and insisted, I finally followed her. She would go a few steps, look back and mew at me and then repeat the sequence. Thinking she had something important on her mind, I trotted after her until we came to the cellar. She went inside, climbed the wall, and entered a hole in it. Excitedly I checked the hole....nothing there! Mystified, I went out and climbed into the sandbox where my untamed mind scurried into sand castles-- but not before noting that the cat had followed me out and was resting in the sun nearby. I wondered whether the cat was disappointed or satisfied; I was both. When the sun began to dip behind the mountain, I glanced up and blinked my eyes in disbelief. A damp little creature bobbed its head beside the cat. I jumped up for closer inspection of the youngest creature I had met. As I pranced along, the mother cat took her kitten in her mouth and carried it to the cellar. Eyes round with wonder, I saw her climb the wall and take her kitten inside the hole she had for her nest. To this day I cannot explain why that cat wanted to share such a special time with such a small child; but it made a deep impression. From then on, cats were my friends.

It also set the stage for another occasion, another cat, another year. Up early bouncing along in the dewy grass, I met our yowling cat, who looked like the lease on her ninth life was running out. When I spoke to her, she ran a short way and looked back and called to me. This time, it didn't take long for me to figure out that I should follow. The cat made a beeline for the neighbors' barn, where I hung back, reluctant to trespass. The cat insisted that this was urgent, so I braved up and followed her in amongst the hay bales. She descended into a crevasse and I heard a chorus of newborn voices demanding her attention. I was eager to report my news to the family, and point out the hideout. But as the day advanced, I realized something was very wrong: the mother cat was gone! It took till nightfall to persuade my mother of this, and get permission to bring the kittens home, but at last I succeeded. Much to our delight, there were four kittens, one for each of us children; (mine was Little Boy Blue)....but the care of all them was all mine! A doll bottle was just right to feed them, accompanied by songs for lullabies; but as fun as that was,I felt guilty that my childish forgetfulness, and frequent inability to awake for night feedings made for inadequate mothering. Happily, the kittens didn't seem to mind. Soon they could be seen riding around in toy trucks, or toddling stiff-legged with tails straight up. Best of all was the moment when I went to get the kittens for a feeding and would find the wide baby eyes of Little Boy Blue gazing up with the adoring look reserved only for a mother. Responsibility and all, I loved every minute. After a month away, the thin mother cat amazed us by reappearing, when, with lavish purring, she thanked me for rescuing her babies. I still needed to give bottles after that, and she did the rest. Then, like Little Boy Blue in the poem, "angels came to awaken" the little fellows--actually it was a rude awakening by DOGS,-- and a heartbreaking ending to my baby-fostering adventure.