Strays

This story is the third part of a trilogy. Read 'Stalker' then 'Lost And Found' first.

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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."

Over the next hour while I tended the ribs on the grill and Pamela visited with Beast I found all out about my two uninvited but welcome guests. Cuddles as I now knew him had been Pamela's kitten until Carly and her boyfriend had broken up after repeated episodes of domestic violence. The two girls were forced to flee in the middle of the night and Beast, I mean Cuddles, was lost in the confusion. Pamela had been on the look-out for him ever since.

The pair had moved around several times since, each address worst than the last until here they were in my garden. I struggled to hide my disdain when I learned that they now called 'the problem house' down the street home. In a neighbourhood of Victorian single family homes this house stuck out like a wart on a Disney princess's nose. It was sort of a flop house where a constantly changing parade of down-and-outs created noise and drama on a nightly basis. The police were regular visitors and room for new tenants would be made when the old ones moved out in handcuffs. Carly and her daughter rented a room in the midst of this chaos and I couldn't help but to feel sorry for them.

I like my ribs to come off the bone cleanly but not just fall off the bone, that is the sign of badly over-cooked ribs. Ribs should not me mushy and without texture, they should be tender yet still firm and retain some chewiness .To make them well on a charcoal barbecue requires low temperatures and time, eight hours in this case. Usually I would have spent this time puttering around the yard pruning and weeding but today I spent the time chatting with Carly and watching Cuddles, as he is now known, sleeping contentedly on Pamela's lap. As I watched Cuddles woke up, yawning and stretching. Pamela opened her eyes and rubbed the sleep from them. "Mommy I'm hungry."

"Perfect timing! The ribs are ready and so are the potatoes."

"Oh no, we can't stay. We have taken too much of your time already."Pamela looked disappointed and despite her words Carly's belly spoke louder or rather growled louder. I decided to listen to her stomach.

I used my pouch knife to slice ribs off the rack and the potatoes in half. Dinner was served on tear offs from a roll of hefty wipes, it was delicious. Pamela had never eaten ribs before so I am glad they turned out so well. When we had finished eating the girls went home and I told Pamela she could come over and visit Cuddles any time she liked.

I wasn't sure if they would take up my offer but they did. Most nights after work I would find the pair in my garden. A couple of times I had to grab something from my house in the middle of the day only to find them playing in my garden. It became apparent to me that they spent most of their days in my backyard. Who could blame them? If I had to live where they did I would spend as little time there as possible . I liked the company and it became customary for the girls to pick the ripe produce from my garden and for us to have dinner together around the pond.

The summer and my garden bloomed on and I felt happy for the first time in years, perhaps even decades. One night in the middle of August I was awakened by sirens and flashing blue and red lights. Peering out the window I was dismayed to see that the commotion was at the girls place and I decided to go make sure they were safe.

The knot in my guts untied when I opened the door and found them on my front steps. Both were in their pyjamas, Pamela asleep in her mothers arms and Cuddles standing guard between them and the mayhem down the street. Carly turned to face me when I opened the door. "What am I going to do?" Her face, a picture of despair was painted with tears.

"Come in." I helped Carly up and settled she and Pamela in for the night. I only had one bed so I slept on the couch.

It had been a long night so I slept a little late and when I got down stairs I found the girls waiting for me at the kitchen table. Pamela had Cuddles on her lap and Carly the weight of the world on hers. I broke the silence. "You girls can't go back there, it isn't safe."

"We have nowhere to go. All our things are there and that place is the only one I could afford."

What could I say except, "You don't have to go anywhere, you guys can stay here." Pamela could hardly contain her jumping beans as she bounced around floor, Carly seemed relieved. The first thing we did was get some furniture for two of my empty bedrooms, paint went on before the furniture went in.

Carly and I made an agreement so that there would be no misunderstandings later. Fine with me. The way it boiled down was that Carly would make dinner and help keep up the house. At the first of each month 250 bucks would change hands. Imagine my surprise when at the beginning of September Carly tried to give me money. I wouldn't accept it. Carly went way beyond our agreement and had done all of my chores, the cooking and my laundry. I put the $250 into an account for Pamela when Carly refused to take it.

Things went on smoothly until Pamela's teacher called the house. It seemed that Pamela was behind grade in English and maths, in other words everything. So I bought some magnetic numbers and letters and stuck them on the fridge. We all had fun arranging and rearranging the letters and numbers until it all made sense to Pamela. A month later her teacher called to say that Pamela's test scores had improved to the point that she was near the top of her class.

Since Pamela was in school full time this year Carly wanted to do something with her free time and she decided to get a job but without a high school diploma her options were extremely limited. With my encouragement Carly started the process of getting her GED. She would sometimes become frustrated by the length of time it was taking for her to get her diploma." It will take me at least two years, by the the time I graduate I will be 25."

I tried to make her feel better. "How old will you be in two years if you don't get your diploma?"

As winter froze on we settled into a happy routine and we were all content. When spring arrived I opened up the pond and started planting in the garden, the girls seemed to enjoy the yard work as much as I did. One day after school Pamela seemed a little glum and I wondered if she had a bad day. We were planting annuals between the perennials when out of the blue Pamela looked up at me and said, "I wish I had a father." I had no ideas what to say and I was even more flummoxed when she looked straight into my eyes and said very quietly, "I wish you were my father."

I returned her gaze. "That is the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me but mothers get to choose who the fathers are."

Pamela had put Carly and I on the spot and I glanced over at her expecting her to look away but instead she looked me square in the eyes and said in a soft voice, almost a whisper, "I wish you were her father too."

"Are you sure? Are you both sure?" The two of them nodded solemnly in answer. Carly if I am going to be a father you know that means I will also be a husband eh?"

Carly nodded and there was only one thing I could do. I went out and bought a ring.

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Life grows on and four years later I found myself holding a wriggling three year old boy, bed time long past. "Pamela would you call Cuddles, it's dark out and if he doesn't come in now he will spend the whole night getting into fights."

"Sure Daddy." Pamela opened the door and shouted, "Cuddles, Cuuddles! "