This story is the third part of a trilogy. Read 'Stalker' then 'Lost And Found' first.
*****
Strays
I became aware of the cat long time before I ever saw him. His presence became obvious when my tomatoes and raspberries stopped disappearing. The first time I saw him he was tackling a large black squirrel that was casing my garden. I rewarded him with a piece of ham from my sandwich and he in return gifted me with the squirrels head.
This beast was a monster, the largest cat I've ever seen, even the vet was amazed at his size. Orange furred, except for the top of his head which was almost bald and mottled with scar tissue where fur wouldn't grow. Blocking claws with his head had consequences. His ears were a mismatch of tatters, more proof of his inability to get along with other cats, not that there were any left dumb enough to cross his path. He was just as crazy as he was tough. What kind of a cat picks fights with raccoons?
I didn't adopt him so much as he decided to tolerate my presence, and graciously decide to eat my food. I never got around to naming him but thought of him as 'Beast'. We had a partnership where we traded kibbles and a warn bed for the complete and utter extirpation of any and all rodents, inside and out. Although not required by the terms of our deal he would often leave me bloody trophies on the back porch.
After he had cleansed my yard and the immediate neighbourhood of anything that would eat a garden, including rabbits, squirrels, and chipmunks the cat expanded the scope of his duties to include guarding the sidewalk in front of my house. He would station himself in the middle of the walk-way and make passers by detour onto the street to get around him, if someone approached to closely he would stand his ground and look menacing. Some of my neighbours complained that their dogs were afraid of him and would whine and cross the road before they approached my block. I watched in amazement as an approaching boxer reversed direction and dragged it's owner away. The dog looked fearfully over his shoulder as Beast stalked along behind, ensuring that the dog was sufficiently traumatised.
The exception to Beast's's ant-social behaviour was his affection for little girls, for them he would roll around on his side and allow them to rub his belly. One little girl of about twelve seemed to be his favourite. He would allow her to pick him up and hold him in her arms like a baby, I considered this to be a reckless act of foolishness that would certainly cost anyone else an eye. Beast would wait for her at her bus stop after school and then escort her home.
Beast's little girl looked familiar to me but try as I might I couldn't place her until I saw her walking with her parents. It couldn't be but it was. I'd moved to this small town to hide from my shameful past. How could it be that of all the houses in all the small towns in the whole wide world they should end up in front of mine, playing with my sort of cat. The last time I had seen them I was in grade eight and I'd been looking up from the terrazzo, surrounded by snickers and jeers.
For a long time I was angry from the shame and humiliation I'd suffered at their hands. I had dreamed up elaborate revenge fantasies during every waking moment and then lived them in my sleep. After all these years I still felt the shame and humiliation but the anger was now only directed at myself, or the person I once was. I understood now, that what had happened to me was my fault and mine alone. It took a long time for me to get to this point but I was here and so were my nemesis, standing on my sidewalk only a few yards away. From behind my hedge I listened to them talk as the girl patted Beast, "Don't encourage him Mary. I don't want him sneaking into your room again. You know how bad my allergies are."
"Oh come on Peter, If she can't have a cat of her own she can at least play with someone else's."
I couldn't believe it! The kids name was Mary? How cute, someone had a sense of humour. Did they sit around the fireplace at night strumming guitars and sing ' Puff the magic dragon'?
Shielded by my hedge I watched them, wishing I had the nerve to come out of hiding and apologise for my deplorable behaviour of the past. I didn't though, I just cowered, not in fear but in self loathing. All these years later I was still deeply ashamed of the boy I'd been . 'Mary' continued to play with Cat while her parents looked on, her father at a distance. I almost choked when Mary mused, "He looks so much better since Mr. Barber took him in."
They knew my name. Did they connect me to the middle school bully from twenty years ago? Did they even remember me? Was the pivotal event of my youth so unimportant to them that it was forgotten by everyone but me?
I watched them walk up the street, Beast following closely behind. When they finally disappeared from sight I returned to my garden. When I say garden I really mean back yard, It was the first project I started when I bought this big old house. The cedar hedge was the beginning, I bought trees by the foot, at a dollar a foot they cost me six dollars each and were now over ten feet tall. After the hedge was planted and my back yard was invisible from the road I dug out a pond by hand. It took two years of weekends to peel up layer upon layer of shale with the tip of my shovel. When I was satisfied with the depth and size of the hole I lined it with a rubber liner and built a water fall with the excavated shale. A pump recirculated water from the pond to the top of the water fall, keeping a school of coy happy.
I gathered my thoughts and a few garden tools and started weeding my flower beds. I was surprised by how much I liked gardening when I had first started. The mindless rooting out of weeds was calming and allowed me to think in quite self-contemplation and sometimes self con-temptation. Today my mind was occupied with what I hoped was honest self reflection. Why had I been such a bully? An arsehole of the highest order. What had been wrong with me?
In hind sight getting expelled and sent to vocational school was the best thing that had ever happened to me, although at the time it had seemed like the end of the world. My father thought so too, judging by the the beating he gave me. He beat me not so much for my behaviour as the shame he felt for me having had my ass kicked by a much younger and smaller kid. If it wasn't already broken he probably would have busted my nose himself. He was like that, my dad. I richly deserved everything I got that day.
The thing you have to know about Highland Grove remedial school is that the way they kept tough kids in line was by having tougher teachers. One of them became the biggest influence of my life. Mr. Anderson taught auto shop and he was not going to put up with bullshit from anyone and that went double for me. Mr. Anderson spoke with a thick Dutch accent and he once berated my class for being the lazy little pukes we were. He went on and on about how when he was our age he was blowing up bridges and sabotaging German trains in his spare time. He was exasperated that we had it so easy and couldn't get our shit together. He was a scary fellow and the only way to keep on his good side was to learn to fix the damn engines. So I did, I learned so well that I am still doing it today, for a living. A very good living.
There was a lot wrong with the students at Highland, some of us just had attitude problems, others learning disabilities and the worst of us, physiological issues or maybe even neurological disorders. Mr. Anderson had to be kind of a son-of-a- bitch just to keep order. The funny thing is that all these years later he's become a buddy of mine and we go out for a brew quite regularly.
It's been a perfect summer so far, only raining at night, with beautiful sunny days. Fantastic barbecue weather! So that is where I stood, putting fresh charcoal on the embers when I heard the little voice for the first time. " Its Cuddles I know it is he went in there!"
An older woman's voice followed. " Wait Pamela don't go in there it's not our house!"
To late. 'Pamela' burst through the hedge and began looking around for something, oblivious to my presence she found what she was looking for and ran towards Beast. "Its him. It's him. I knew it was." The small girl leaned down to scoop up Beast and before I could warn her about the potential danger she was in, she had him. To my amazement Beast didn't scratch or bight, instead he practically jumped into her arms and started to purr loudly making low mewling sounds. "Mommy I knew it was him, I just knew it!"
I turned around to find the girls mother standing behind me, "I'm so sorry mister we didn't mean to barge in on you like this it's just that he used to be Pamela's cat."
"Oh that's okay. It looks like he still is her cat. She can take him home if she likes. He isn't my cat any way, he just lives here. I'm Brett by the way."
"Nice to meet you Brett. I'm Carly. Unfortunately we can't have any pet at our place."
