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
