A Storm in the Making

Chapter 33--I Never Had A Pet Before

I was overjoyed when the first guest speaker was Dr. Spinner.  We had been at the castle a week by then, and I thought I was going to go out of my mind worrying about Julius. 

     Dr. Spinner brought me a mixed blessing when he came that I would never have expected—a pet.  Was I shocked by his gift?  You bet.  I couldn’t remember ever actually having a pet of my own before. I was unsure of what to do with it, or if the Hermits would even let me keep the darned thing.  I would have bitten off my tongue before I told him that, though, and gingerly accepted the covered basket he offered me.  I jumped back when out from under the cover came a full-grown house cat.

     “A cat?   You brought me a cat?”

     “His name is Luther,” Dr. Spinner informed me all happy and pleased with himself. “I know this is hard time for you.  I thought he might be a little company….I think Luther will be a great comfort to you.”  It felt like Dr. Spinner was trying to convey a subliminal message with his words, but if so, I totally missed it. 

     I wished right then that I could just reach into his mind and snatch what I wanted to know out of it.  I hated being forced to ask the question aloud for fear of the humiliating tears that were never far away these days.

     “How is……..?”  I couldn’t finish my question.  Not without breaking.

     “He’s around……He’s just not his usual self.”

     Luther meowed just then, recalling our attention to him.  He looked up at me so innocently, with an unearthly beauty that I didn’t expect.  Luther was huge for a cat, with long, silky fur that was midnight black and eyes so green they almost shimmered. They didn’t glow like the camel’s had, which would have been totally creepy.  They more or less glittered like an emerald. 

Luther was the most beautiful cat I had ever seen.  I never considered myself a ‘cat’ person, but Luther seemed to take to me like I had been a cat lover all my life.  He rubbed up against me, purring loudly, demanding attention like it was his right. 

I held him, still in his basket of course, as we went through that first lecture.  Luther settled down in his basket as if understanding now was not the time to be demanding.  I petted him absently now and then, getting used to the feel of him.  When I did, he responded by rubbing his head against my hand, eyes closed, as if he was enjoying himself; purring contentedly until I moved my hand.   

He was a perfect gentleman until I took him up to my room a few hours later.  I thought I had this whole pet thing under control by the time I got to my room after an exhausting day of being crammed with facts until I thought my head would explode like a dropped watermelon. 

I closed the door to my room gratefully, totally unprepared for what Luther did next.  As soon as he heard the door click shut, Luther launched himself out of his basket and across almost ten feet of open floor space, onto the end of my bed like a heat-seeking missile.

He then trotted up the length of my bed like he owned it, tail standing as stiffly erect as a flagpole.  He went straight to the pillow on the side of the bed I didn’t sleep on, plopped down on it, overflowing the pillow because of his size, and staked his claim on that side of the bed as surely as if he’d marked it as cats do. 

Thank God, he spared me that.  Luther thereafter refused to go near the basket again.  He finally backed up to it and urinated all over it when I tried to force him to sleep there.  That ended that argument.  Luther 1, earth girl, 0.  Holding my nose, I flung the basket out the only window in my room.  It sailed out over the outer wall like a Frisbee, and ended the argument in Luther’s favor.

     Despite Luther’s little quirks, I had to admit Dr. Spinner had been right.  Luther was a lot of company.  On my good nights, he would snuggle right up to my chest when I lay down to sleep; purring soothingly like a lullaby in my ear until I dozed off. 

On my bad nights, he would lick the tears off my cheeks with his rough tongue, and paw my shoulder rhythmically in his efforts to comfort me.  I had reason to know this, because that first night Luther came was one of my worst nights ever.

I dreamed of Julius that night—like always—but it seemed so real.  His voice was clear a bell; like he was right there with me.  I woke up crying, Luther’s rough tongue licking my cheek.  I guess that’s when I started loving that dumb cat.

 I scooped up his warm body and snuggled him up to me.  His fur smelled good.  Like sunshine and fresh air.  It was a woodsy, outdoorsy scent that suited him.  Luther’s steady purring was the last thing I heard until a timid knock on my door at First Bell from Marta let me know it was time to get up. 

Luther sat alertly on the end of the bed staring at the door as if he intended to attack anyone who dared cross my threshold.

“So what are you now, a guard dog?” I asked him.  “It’s just Marta.  You’ll have to just deal with her.  Unless you’re going to clean the room up yourself.  I don’t have time.  I have to get to class.  Know any Latin?”

Haughtily Luther turned towards me, blinked one eye and turned back to his watchfulness—totally ignoring me.