A Cat Named Gherkins

 

When Gherkins was a kitten, she appeared to be like every other kitten in the cardboard box the little girl was holding out in front of the supermarket.  Free Kittens, her sign spelled out in magic marker on the side of the box.  I don’t recall how many kittens there were, but Gherkins somehow got my attention.

        Even though I knew there was no such thing as a free kitten, I carried her to my car and drove home.  The following few weeks were spent getting to know each other.  She was playful and curious.  So curious, in fact, that it caught my attention just how much she was paying attention to how things worked.  She seemed to study the relationship between the knob and the faucet.  She caught on quickly that it was the knob that caused water to come out of the faucet.

        There wasn’t any part of the house she hadn’t explored.  In no time at all she was running full speed from the front entryway to the back, bedroom closet, then up the attic steps.  I’d hear her racing across the upstairs bedroom, and over time, as she gained weight, she was heavy enough to make the floorboards squeak.  I could always tell where she was.

        I never really noticed how quiet she was until the first time she meowed at me.  I had just walked away from the kitchen sink.  She had been sitting up by the kitchen window, watching the water run out of the faucet.  As I turned and headed for the other room, she squawked.  I turned around and saw that she was looking at the sink. I hadn’t shut the water off all the way, and it was still dripping.  I went back and pushed harder on the handle and said thank you.

        I really didn’t think anymore about it until I came home one day from work.  From the driveway I could see her sitting in the front window waiting for me.  As I started walking up to the house, Gherkin stood up on her back legs, her front paws against the window.  At first I thought she was just stretching, but then I could hear her through the window meowing quite loudly.

        Thinking she was excited to see me, I ignored her cries.  Then I heard a crash behind me.  My car had rolled backwards down the drive, and smashed into my neighbor’s car, which was parked in the street.  That evening, as I was watching the television and she was curled up next to me, I realized she had been trying to alert me that the car was rolling.  It never occurred to me to turn around and look behind me.

        That was the first time I knew Gherkins was a very special cat.  As time went on, I paid closer attention to her attempts to communicate with me.  I seemed to be the dumb one in the relationship.  Between the two of us we developed a system that included sounds, gestures and a combination of the two.  She also wasn’t shy about letting me know which cat food she liked and didn’t like.  All the typical cat toys were apparently beneath her.  She couldn’t be bothered.

I further discovered that she could read people, sort of like I had been reading her signals.  I noticed this during one of my poker groups.  I knew she had no clue which playing cards were which, or what went together to make a good hand, but like I said, she could read people.

During the game I noticed her studying the other players.  Whenever someone was bluffing, her tail would flick like crazy.  The last thing I wanted to do was cheat, but how could I ignore sweet, innocent Gherkin?  She’d always let me know when someone was lying about what cards they were holding, and silly me, I always called their bluff.  Fortunately, nobody ever caught on.   Not that I did it that often.  I mean, I’m not a crook.

Last Thursday evening the power went out.  There was quite a storm going on and lightning or wind had knocked out the electricity.   I lit a few candles and set them around the house. Without the television blasting away, or any light to read by, there wasn’t much to do except sit and wait.  I was in my recliner and Gherkins was curled up at one end of the couch.  Suddenly, as if startled by something, she sprang up and let out an awful cry.  I asked her what was wrong, but she only looked at the bookcase which was against the far wall.  Then she looked at me, made another cat-like sound and headed down the hall.  Knowing by this time that she knew better than I did, I followed her.

In the back bedroom she scooted under the bed.  I can’t follow you down there I said, just as a tornado crashed through the living room, where we had been sitting.  The sound was deafening.  The front half of my house was gone.  Most everything inside had been scattered to who knows where.  

The moment it passed I began surveying the damage.  What an incredible mess everything was.   It was difficult just walking through stuff and stepping over things.  I couldn’t even tell what some things used to be.   My heart was pounding, and I felt sick.  I wanted to just sit down someplace and cry, but various neighbors began showing up.   It was only then I looked down the street to see how widespread the damage had been.

As soon as my thoughts settled down, I remembered Gherkins under the bed.  I made my way to the back bedroom and called her name.  She wasn’t under the bed, or anywhere else.   The tornado had not hit the back of the house, so I knew she was safe, but where she had gotten off to, I hadn’t a clue.  I searched for a long time and ended up putting lost cat signs around town.  There were no calls about any cats fitting her description.

The insurance company eventually rebuilt my house, and the neighborhood, except for a few permanent scars, once again looked normal.  I think I’ll always miss Gherkins, the cat who saved my life.  And when I think back on my poker winnings, I’d have to admit that maybe she was a free kitten.

 

 

The End