Part 6 - A Cat Named Beauty

I was seven years old and had never owned a pet in my life, unless you count the box turtle I kept for one day inside a five gallon bucket, only to wake the next morning to discover it missing. But I wanted one. I'd wanted a pet for as long as I could remember. Then, not too long after moving to our new house in the Ozark hill country, it so happened my grandpa invited me for a drive down our gravel road, "just to see where it went." Actually, the road was paved in front of the house, but soon after turned to gravel and dust. But back to the story. Grandpa and I have always been close, and even though he's my mom's adoptive father, that never got between us. In fact, I was closer to him from the start than any of my other grandpas, both of whom are now dead. My grandpa and I always had a very unique bond, one which was often described by the words, "we're buddies!" But it was more than that. I didn't realize it at the time, but we both were experiencing a once-in-a-lifetime bond of love and similarity to each other. We still have that.

On this particular day, however, I climbed into Grandpa's truck and together we took off for new adventures. We'd gone perhaps a mile or so when we saw an old farmer working in the ditch near his house. Grandpa, being the friendly type, pulled over to talk. The gentleman saw me in the seat, and upon learning I was new to the area asked if I wanted a kitten. Boy, did I! Grandpa just smiled and told the gentleman we'd need to ask my parents first and would be back after a bit to let him know their answer. After a minimal amount of persuading, my parents agreed I could get a kitten, but it had to be an outdoor cat. I'd never been more thrilled in my life than I was at the moment Grandpa and I climbed back in his truck to pick out a cat.

Upon arriving at the farm, we located the farmer and asked him to show us the kittens he'd mentioned. He took us to an old silo and pointed to a bunch of rowdy, feral cats that must have been several months old at the time. After quite a workout, the farmer managed to catch one, but it only scratched and fought to get away. My grandpa just shook his head, but just as he was about to tell the gentleman we didn't want those cats, a beautiful siamese feline came walking our way, calm as could be.

"Is that the mother?" my grandpa asked.

"Yep."

"Could we have her?"

The man hesitated, then smiled. "Sure! You're welcome to her."

I grinned from ear to ear as Grandpa picked up the new cat, my new cat, and put her in an emptied sack for oranges. He was afraid she'd go wild on the way home, but after a bit of scratching, she just lay there, calm as could be.

I'll never forget when we took her inside to show my parents. We opened the bag and let her out, only to discover her fur matched our brown-and-tope colored carpet perfectly. I asked my mom what I should name her, and everyone agreed the only name for this cat was Beauty. Her blue eyes sparkled with a wisdom beyond her species, and she had an air of dignity and love that amazed everyone who saw her. What's more, she didn't seem to mind that I didn't know how to hold her. I remember one picture of me on the steps with my arms under her front legs grasping her loosely as the rest of her body hung straight down. She didn't fight to get loose, she just hung there as if grateful for even that attention. My brother, then age 3, sometimes pulled her tail or accidentally stepped on her toes, but she never bit or scratched at him. She just yelped a bit and went on her way.

Soon after bringing Beauty home, we realized why the gentleman had given her to us. Beauty was pregnant. She went on to have two more litters before we could get her spayed, some of which didn't turn out so well, as she apparently bred with some of her own offspring from down the road. Oh well. We kept a few of her kittens, but through all of the moves that would follow, only Beauty stayed with us. What a cat.