My Father the Cat, Page 2
Henry Slesar
convictionthat we should never be parted. She put her arm in mine, and we strolledthrough the great rooms of the house. She was ecstatic at their size andelegance, exclaiming over the carpeting, the gnarled furniture, theancient silver and pewter, the gallery of family paintings. When shecame upon an early portrait of my mother, her eyes misted.
"She was lovely," Joanna said. "Like a princess! And what of yourfather? Is there no portrait of him?"
"No," I said hurriedly. "No portrait." I had spoken my first lie toJoanna, for there was a painting, half-completed, which my mother hadbegun in the last year of her life. It was a whispering littlewatercolor, and Joanna discovered it to my consternation.
"What a magnificent cat!" she said. "Was it a pet?"
"It is Dauphin," I said nervously.
She laughed. "He has your eyes, Etienne."
"Joanna, I must tell you something--"
"And this ferocious gentleman with the moustaches? Who is he?"
"My grandfather. Joanna, you must listen--"
Francois, who had been following our inspection tour at shadow's-length,interrupted. I suspected that his timing was no mere coincidence.
"We will be serving dinner at seven-thirty," he said. "If the lady wouldcare to dress--"
"Of course," Joanna said. "Will you excuse me, Etienne?"
I bowed to her, and she was gone.
At fifteen minutes to the appointed dining time, I was ready, andhastened below to talk once more with my father. He was in the diningroom, instructing the servants as to the placement of the silver andaccessories. My father was proud of the excellence of his table, andtook all his meals in the splendid manner. His appreciation of food andwine was unsurpassed in my experience, and it had always been thegreatest of pleasures for me to watch him at table, stalking across thedamask and dipping delicately into the silver dishes prepared for him.He pretended to be too busy with his dinner preparations to engage me inconversation, but I insisted.
"I must talk to you," I said. "We must decide together how to do this."
"It will not be easy," he answered with a twinkle. "Consider Joanna'sview. A cat as large and as old as myself is cause enough for comment. Acat that speaks is alarming. A cat that dines at table with thehousehold is shocking. And a cat whom you must introduce as your--"
"Stop it!" I cried. "Joanna must know the truth. You must help me revealit to her."
"Then you will not heed my advice?"
"In all things but this. Our marriage can never be happy unless sheaccepts you for what you are."
"And if there is no marriage?"
I would not admit to this possibility. Joanna was mine; nothing couldalter that. The look of pain and bewilderment in my eyes must have beenevident to my father, for he touched my arm gently with his paw andsaid:
"I will help you, Etienne. You must give me your trust."
"Always!"
"Then come to dinner with Joanna and explain nothing. Wait for me toappear."
I grasped his paw and raised it to my lips. "Thank you, father!"
He turned to Francois, and snapped: "You have my instructions?"
"Yes, sir," the servant replied.
"Then all is ready. I shall return to my room now, Etienne. You maybring your fiancee to dine."
I hastened up the stairway, and found Joanna ready, strikingly beautifulin shimmering white satin. Together, we descended the grand staircaseand entered the room.
Her eyes shone at the magnificence of the service set upon the table, atthe soldiery array of fine wines, some of them already poured into theirproper glasses for my father's enjoyment: _Haut Medoc_, from _St.Estephe_, authentic _Chablis_, _Epernay Champagne_, and an Americanimport from the Napa Valley of which he was fond. I waited expectantlyfor his appearance as we sipped our aperitif, while Joanna chatted aboutinnocuous matters, with no idea of the tormented state I was in.
At eight o'clock, my father had not yet made his appearance, and I grewever more distraught as Francois signalled for the serving of the_bouillon au madere_. Had he changed his mind? Would I be left toexplain my status without his help? I hadn't realized until this momenthow difficult a task I had allotted for myself, and the fear of losingJoanna was terrible within me. The soup was flat and tasteless on mytongue, and the misery in my manner was too apparent for Joanna to miss.
"What is it, Etienne?" she said. "You've been so morose all day. Can'tyou tell me what's wrong?"
"No, it's nothing. It's just--" I let the impulse take possession of myspeech. "Joanna, there's something I should tell you. About my mother,and my father--"
"Ahem," Francois said.
He turned to the doorway, and our glances followed his.
"Oh, Etienne!" Joanna cried, in a voice ringing with delight.
It was my father, the cat, watching us with his gray, gold-flecked eyes.He approached the dining table, regarding Joanna with timidity andcaution.
"It's the cat in the painting!" Joanna said. "You didn't tell me he washere, Etienne. He's beautiful!"
"Joanna, this is--"
"Dauphin! I would have known him anywhere. Here, Dauphin! Here, kitty,kitty, kitty!"
Slowly, my father approached her outstretched hand, and allowed her toscratch the thick fur on the back of his neck.
"Aren't you the pretty little pussy! Aren't you the sweetest littlething!"
"Joanna!"
She lifted my father by the haunches, and held him in her lap, strokinghis fur and cooing the silly little words that women address to theirpets. The sight pained and confused me, and I sought to find an openingword that would allow me to explain, yet hoping all the time that myfather would himself provide the answer.
Then my father spoke.
"Meow," he said.
"Are you hungry?" Joanna asked solicitously. "Is the little pussyhungry?"
"Meow," my father said, and I believed my heart broke then and there. Heleaped from her lap and padded across the room. I watched him throughblurred eyes as he followed Francois to the corner, where the servanthad placed a shallow bowl of milk. He lapped at it eagerly, until thelast white drop was gone. Then he yawned and stretched, and trotted backto the doorway, with one fleeting glance in my direction that spokearticulately of what I must do next.
"What a wonderful animal," Joanna said.
"Yes," I answered. "He was my mother's favorite."
Transcriber's Note:
This etext was produced from _Fantastic Universe_ December 1957. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and typographical errors have been corrected without note.
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"She was lovely," Joanna said. "Like a princess! And what of yourfather? Is there no portrait of him?"
"No," I said hurriedly. "No portrait." I had spoken my first lie toJoanna, for there was a painting, half-completed, which my mother hadbegun in the last year of her life. It was a whispering littlewatercolor, and Joanna discovered it to my consternation.
"What a magnificent cat!" she said. "Was it a pet?"
"It is Dauphin," I said nervously.
She laughed. "He has your eyes, Etienne."
"Joanna, I must tell you something--"
"And this ferocious gentleman with the moustaches? Who is he?"
"My grandfather. Joanna, you must listen--"
Francois, who had been following our inspection tour at shadow's-length,interrupted. I suspected that his timing was no mere coincidence.
"We will be serving dinner at seven-thirty," he said. "If the lady wouldcare to dress--"
"Of course," Joanna said. "Will you excuse me, Etienne?"
I bowed to her, and she was gone.
At fifteen minutes to the appointed dining time, I was ready, andhastened below to talk once more with my father. He was in the diningroom, instructing the servants as to the placement of the silver andaccessories. My father was proud of the excellence of his table, andtook all his meals in the splendid manner. His appreciation of food andwine was unsurpassed in my experience, and it had always been thegreatest of pleasures for me to watch him at table, stalking across thedamask and dipping delicately into the silver dishes prepared for him.He pretended to be too busy with his dinner preparations to engage me inconversation, but I insisted.
"I must talk to you," I said. "We must decide together how to do this."
"It will not be easy," he answered with a twinkle. "Consider Joanna'sview. A cat as large and as old as myself is cause enough for comment. Acat that speaks is alarming. A cat that dines at table with thehousehold is shocking. And a cat whom you must introduce as your--"
"Stop it!" I cried. "Joanna must know the truth. You must help me revealit to her."
"Then you will not heed my advice?"
"In all things but this. Our marriage can never be happy unless sheaccepts you for what you are."
"And if there is no marriage?"
I would not admit to this possibility. Joanna was mine; nothing couldalter that. The look of pain and bewilderment in my eyes must have beenevident to my father, for he touched my arm gently with his paw andsaid:
"I will help you, Etienne. You must give me your trust."
"Always!"
"Then come to dinner with Joanna and explain nothing. Wait for me toappear."
I grasped his paw and raised it to my lips. "Thank you, father!"
He turned to Francois, and snapped: "You have my instructions?"
"Yes, sir," the servant replied.
"Then all is ready. I shall return to my room now, Etienne. You maybring your fiancee to dine."
I hastened up the stairway, and found Joanna ready, strikingly beautifulin shimmering white satin. Together, we descended the grand staircaseand entered the room.
Her eyes shone at the magnificence of the service set upon the table, atthe soldiery array of fine wines, some of them already poured into theirproper glasses for my father's enjoyment: _Haut Medoc_, from _St.Estephe_, authentic _Chablis_, _Epernay Champagne_, and an Americanimport from the Napa Valley of which he was fond. I waited expectantlyfor his appearance as we sipped our aperitif, while Joanna chatted aboutinnocuous matters, with no idea of the tormented state I was in.
At eight o'clock, my father had not yet made his appearance, and I grewever more distraught as Francois signalled for the serving of the_bouillon au madere_. Had he changed his mind? Would I be left toexplain my status without his help? I hadn't realized until this momenthow difficult a task I had allotted for myself, and the fear of losingJoanna was terrible within me. The soup was flat and tasteless on mytongue, and the misery in my manner was too apparent for Joanna to miss.
"What is it, Etienne?" she said. "You've been so morose all day. Can'tyou tell me what's wrong?"
"No, it's nothing. It's just--" I let the impulse take possession of myspeech. "Joanna, there's something I should tell you. About my mother,and my father--"
"Ahem," Francois said.
He turned to the doorway, and our glances followed his.
"Oh, Etienne!" Joanna cried, in a voice ringing with delight.
It was my father, the cat, watching us with his gray, gold-flecked eyes.He approached the dining table, regarding Joanna with timidity andcaution.
"It's the cat in the painting!" Joanna said. "You didn't tell me he washere, Etienne. He's beautiful!"
"Joanna, this is--"
"Dauphin! I would have known him anywhere. Here, Dauphin! Here, kitty,kitty, kitty!"
Slowly, my father approached her outstretched hand, and allowed her toscratch the thick fur on the back of his neck.
"Aren't you the pretty little pussy! Aren't you the sweetest littlething!"
"Joanna!"
She lifted my father by the haunches, and held him in her lap, strokinghis fur and cooing the silly little words that women address to theirpets. The sight pained and confused me, and I sought to find an openingword that would allow me to explain, yet hoping all the time that myfather would himself provide the answer.
Then my father spoke.
"Meow," he said.
"Are you hungry?" Joanna asked solicitously. "Is the little pussyhungry?"
"Meow," my father said, and I believed my heart broke then and there. Heleaped from her lap and padded across the room. I watched him throughblurred eyes as he followed Francois to the corner, where the servanthad placed a shallow bowl of milk. He lapped at it eagerly, until thelast white drop was gone. Then he yawned and stretched, and trotted backto the doorway, with one fleeting glance in my direction that spokearticulately of what I must do next.
"What a wonderful animal," Joanna said.
"Yes," I answered. "He was my mother's favorite."
Transcriber's Note:
This etext was produced from _Fantastic Universe_ December 1957. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and typographical errors have been corrected without note.
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