Privileged

It’s not nice to tell stories out of school…you know, drop the dirt on the former significant other who ruined your life. It’s so much better to be discreet rather than indiscreet. But I woke up this morning with the urge to slander, defame, and abuse one particular person from whom I learned so much in the relationship – in a negative way. However, some good did come from it. I went into therapy. Anyway, you are off the hook, Susan. I found something better to write about. Ta-ta for now- you stinking rotter!

So, before setting down to write a diatribe. I spent a few minutes scanning the news. There, I found my weekly newsletter from the regional newspaper that covers the small town in coastal Maine where I lived, did some fieldwork, and crewed on the 34-foot ketch belonging to my first father-in-law, the Cap’n. The subject suggested after reading a few lovely down home articles was my large ferocious gray cat Clancy J. Bumps AKA the Grey Menace. When in residence we lived in a small cabin on the west side of the Island. We were surrounded by woods, but it was a short walk to a small cove on the riverside of the island.

Clancy normally lived with me and my first wife in the rather urban city of Malden in Massachusetts, where he was a city cat restricted to the house. But in Maine he found that the screen doors and windows were not up to keeping an enterprising cat from escaping and terrorizing the large and normally vicious dog that lived on a neighboring property. It was great sport to see the normally hulking brute whine and retreat with tail between legs. He almost enjoyed this too much.

Life on the coast offered many opportunities for adventure. Strangely, the water itself was not something he was afraid of, and the washing of the tide was just something to navigate. However, he learned that the bloodworms that were dug in the tidal sand by the fishermen were as nasty as he was. He learned to run away whenever he encountered them wriggling in a fisherman’s bucket. One time, one made bold to bite him, and the otherwise brave kitty ran through the woods all the way to the cabin, smashed open the screen door, and sought shelter in my wife’s arms ( he didn’t like her much, so this indicates how terrified he was). He decided to be a house cat for a few days to recuperate.

I believe it was the next summer he broke out of the house while I was off sailing and my wife was visiting her aunt. Late in the afternoon, we returned to find a screen window broken open and no cat in the house. Off we went through the woods calling his name. Eventually, I heard a racket just before I neared the cove. It was a cat yowling. I could barely hear him because it seemed that half the birds in the woods were in the trees scolding the cat loudly. Yes, it was Clancy.

He was inside half of a hollow log, looking very forlorn and grateful to see me. As I watched, a pair of chickadees jumped down and loudly started scolding him.

I reached inside the log and pulled him out. The birds went silent. Putting him inside my work shirt, I walked back to the cabin with him, silent and huddled inside. As we left, there seemed to be one final burst of bird chittering. It was as though they were saying, “…and don’t come back again…or else!!!” For a week or so, he was a well-behaved cat: no biting, scratching, picking fights, or beating up neighbors’ dogs.

So, about now, you are wondering how this relationship was so important and how it taught me valuable lessons. Well, I had never been responsible for another being. I wasn’t even very responsible in my marriage or with regard to myself. With Clancy, I learned to be responsible. Eventually, those lessons spread and took root. As I once said in another post, not all teachers are human.

Now, with regard to Susan…Your time is coming!