My Cat and Father's Hat
by Bonnie Jarvis-Lowe

I cannot recall a time when I was not owned by a cat. I’ve been owned by big cats, small cats, stray cats, fat cats, skinny cats, and cats of all colors. I also was owned for sixteen years by a precious Maine Coon cat named Ben. I grieved when I lost him. Now I am owned by a Platinum Mink Tonkinese cat who dictates and decides what it is I have to do. Cats are fascinating creatures with their independent spirits, soft fur, keen hearing and the ability to actually make their human feel repentant if something is not to their liking. My Tonkinese, Simon, is the ruler of all he surveys, and he does not suffer fools gladly. He knows he is the boss, and he makes sure that everyone else knows it also. How he does this I will never know, but he rules! Not too long ago my senses of sight and sound brought back a cherished, nostalgic memory of one of the first cats to own me when I was just six years old. It all happened on a beautiful warm day when I saw a young woman sitting on a blanket in front of her house with a ‘baby buggy’ beside her. The bees were buzzing, the seagulls calling, and the gentle wind was ruffling her long hair. Across the road from her was the ocean with the sun sparkling on it like diamonds dancing on a carpet of blue. The scene immediately unlocked the memory of another place, and a simpler time long ago, that was locked in my heart. I recalled a day when my mother sat on a picnic blanket with my sister and I, outside our home in a small Newfoundland community. My brother was asleep in the baby carriage, the ‘Dance of the Diamonds’ on the ocean across the road was magnificent, icebergs loomed in the distance, and the wind was light and warm as it blew through our hair. It was one of our special ‘picnic’ days when Mother, so young at the time, would make a lunch and we would stay outside to picnic and enjoy the brilliant sunshine. Dad was a Mountie in our small community and walked home for lunch every day. We loved swinging on the gate waiting for him to come striding down the hill. It was a sweet, innocent and happy time in our lives. Then, on one of those special ‘picnic’ days, we noticed our mother staring at the shed which was right next to our house. She was looking very perplexed, which of course aroused our ever present curiosity. "I don’t know what your cat is doing Bonnie, but she is up to something!" my mother announced, sounding slightly bewildered. We stopped to watch and we too saw my cherished cat jump from the roof of the shed, onto the windowsill of the house, and disappear through an open window. Yes, my cat was definitely behaving strangely. What could she be doing? "We’ll see what Dad has to say when he comes home," Mother decided. She knew that Dad would solve the mystery for us. We became very eager for Dad to arrive to find out what type of strange mission my pet was undertaking. Finally he did arrive and we all started telling him the story. Mother added some drama to it, to entertain us I suspect. Dad tipped his cap back, a familiar motion of his when he was thinking hard. He was always game for an opportunity to entertain us. "Well, let’s all go see what it’s all about," he laughed. Dad loves cats, and he loves children, and he would make everything an exciting happening. We all trotted into the house behind him with Mother carrying my baby brother. We loved those adventures with Dad, and he enjoyed making everyday things into a game of intrigue with his children. We searched everywhere downstairs in our two story house, but we could not find my pet cat. Finally we reached the bedroom that had the open window. There, from the closet, with a door slightly ajar, we heard a soft, gentle sound. We waited as Dad opened the door, performing the act like ‘Columbo’ the detective! What was it? This was very intriguing! "Well, for Heavens’ sake!" he laughed, as he beckoned us to come and look. To our astonishment there was my cat, lying comfortably on a closet shelf, with seven obviously new born kittens! Now we knew what Mother Puss had been doing. She had moved her kittens, born in the shed, to a more comfortable place. Mother Puss was contented and purring, looking very satisfied, as we all stared in awe at her and the seven tiny kittens cuddled up beside her on a splendid, soft, cosy fur rug. The fur rug that was my Mountie fathers’ fur cap! Bonnie Jarvis-Lowe