CAT LADY - A SHORT STORY BY TIN CAN CALDWELL

CAT LADY - A SHORT STORY FROM THE MIND OF TIN CAN CALDWELL

"And he shall be called 'Antiochus,'" Mrs. Eliot proclaimed, holding the newly acquired stray cat (a gray, male domestic shorthair) aloft as she emerged from the pet visiting room into the main foyer of the Cook County Humane Society. The society was busy this particular Saturday afternoon, with families and single visitors milling about the cages and dens of the society's inhabitants. No one turned to greet Mrs. Eliot's announcement, and she scowled as she moved towards the front desk with Antiochus still in her arms. She also carried a copy of T.S. Eliot's Old Possum's Book Of Practical Cats, which she always brought with her on these occasions.

She set him on the counter and requested a pet identification name card from Samantha, who was on the phone at the time.

"I expect good things from you, Antiochus," she said to the cat as she neatly printed his new name in her most flowery script on the card. She had a special pen, just for this occasion, a wide tipped gel pen that mimicked the mark of a feather quill pen. "With a name that strong and regal, I expect only the highest of character and behavior from you. No fighting with your fellow tenants, and please, no micturating in your sleeping space! That's the most important lesson; leave your "leavings" in the right place. A kitty bed is no kitty box."

Finishing her writing, she handed the card to Samantha. "Here you go. One more proud addition to our humble stable of rascals. Be a dear and fill out the rest of Antiochus' information, please. We must find him a good home, one with a field in back I would think. Antiochus here strikes me as a particularly fierce mouser. Also, he's got a bit of a lothario in him," she said, scratching the cat under his chin. "He reminds me a bit of my husband Stanley, the way he came on strong right away. Dear me, I couldn't catch my breath when Stan was courting me. He'd send flowers, sing under my window at school, make me dinner in the college's student union kitchen. And trying to get any studying done? Oh, no. I had to stay up all night to get any work done, with Stan wanting every waking hour I had..."

Mrs. Eliot stared off into the air as her sentence trailed off. She was brought back by Samantha, who was steadily typing away at her keyboard.

"It says here that he's fixed already," said Samantha, looking at her computer.

"Hmm, I didn't get that in my reading of him," said Mrs. Eliot, flipping Antiochus over and peering underneath. "Oh yes, I see it now. Well, he shan't be a whoring anymore, poor fellow."

A mother, who was at the front desk with her young daughter, working with another society member on some paperwork, gave Mrs. Eliot a glare when the word "whoring" came drifting over the air. Samantha finished up filling in the details on Antiochus' identification card and handed it back across the desk.

"What poem did you read this time, Mrs. Eliot?" she asked, attempting to move on from the glaring mother just down the desktop.

"It was 'Old Deuteronomy' that Antiochus loved best. You should have seen him perk up! He finally came out from under the table in there and let me pick him up. It was a breakthrough moment! You know it's terribly bad luck to let a cat go unnamed or to name a cat too quickly. T.S. Eliot might have written these poems for fun, but he was hinting at a larger truth that we 'cat' people have known for eons now. If you name them too hastily, bad luck shall befall you and your establishments."

"I don't believe in luck," said Samantha, still engrossed in her work, but with a sly smile that suggested that she enjoyed riling up Mrs. Eliot from time to time.

"My dear Samantha," said Mrs. Eliot, lowering her voice. "I've seen catastrophes that would chill your blood befall families that didn't take the naming of cats seriously. I once knew a clan that took in a stray and quickly named him "Fuzz". They had three miscarriages in a row, and had no more children after that."