Mommy Kitty
Where she had come from, no one ever knew. None asked, and she talked very little about her background. One day, she had suddenly appeared, staying first at one home and then another. She took from one food bowl and then another. Most of the creatures, all pets of men, didn’t care. They had more than enough. One small nondescript tabby cat made no difference to them. Occasionally, one of the dogs could be heard barking as they chased her away, but she would be back. When they weren’t looking, of course.
But it was different with Buttons. She made it very clear that an interloper would not be tolerated. Buttons was even smaller than the cat, and possibly younger. The small Scottie still had her baby teeth, but she never hesitated to use them as everyone knew. Particularly Sally, whom Buttons had just met. They had become very close friends very quickly and fought long and furious battles, only now and then actually nipping one another. Their teeth were very sharp, as puppies’ teeth are. So care was the word of the day. Have fun. Lots of it. Rough and tumble, but no hurting.
Buttons did not include the cat among her friends. In a short time, everyone else would call her Mommy Kitty, for obvious reasons. She was always pregnant. Buttons didn’t care about the situation at all. Something was wrong, but she couldn’t tell what it was. Maybe just a dog-versus-cat kind—of thing. She didn’t know, and was always too busy to figure it out. Nonetheless, the black Scottie clearly remembered the first day. Too many birds and then the cat.
Crispin Chatterbox inquisitively cocked his head to one side for about the tenth time in the last thirty seconds, thinking to himself, “Well, here we go again.”
Crispin was like all grackles—nosy, noisy, and generally disliked. He was of less-than-normal size and always on the move. He impatiently hopped from one foot to the other, fretfully waiting for the action below to come to some fruition.
The object of his dancing stare lay roughly five and one half feet below him. A remarkable object it was, perched as it was on the rounded rear end of a small black dog furiously digging in the soft, red dirt of a beautifully organized garden.
Like a black, twisted worm, it bounced to and fro, carving crazy pirouettes in the air as dirt flew from between the dog’s hind legs. Small woofing noises were emitted at regular intervals, puffing out in jets of dirt which hung in the air about the rapidly enlarging hole.
A haughty crackling comment at Crispin’s side abruptly interrupted the grackle’s watchfulness and almost caused him to almost stop his dance in midair.
“I see that Button Benttail is at it again. Really, I don’t see what is so interesting about the silly activities of a mud-covered ground mutt. After all, it’s only bound to get her into more trouble.”
Crispin had immediately jerked around to face his unwelcome guest, who was, as expected, none other than that miserable, but very large, J. Wellington Blackbird. JW (as he insisted on being addressed) was of southern descent, born on a large plantation situated on a tributary of the mighty Mississippi River, and ready, willing and able, as they say, to enlarge on any topic whether his input was requested or not. Blackie (as most birds called him behind his back) lifted his left wing and preened himself, stylishly lifting one foot as he did so. Given to unwelcome snide comments about almost everything he surveyed, Blackie raised one eyebrow and looked down his nose at Crispin.
“Well, my little friend,” and he curled his bill just the slightest, “what you see in the Benttail, I’ll never know.”
Crispin’s small voice cracked as he angrily rose to his friend’s defense. Quite literally because it was necessary for Crispin to fan his wings and repeatedly hop into the air to be at eyelevel with Blackie.
“You don’t understand. What Buttons is doing is very important.”
Of course, Crispin had no idea what Buttons was doing, or why, or for what purpose. But being a true friend, it made no difference. All that was important was that if Button wanted to do it, then it was fine with Crispin. No friend to the nasty Blackie, Crispin would have come to Buttons’s defense no matter what.
Blackie bent down, twisting his head to fix Crispin with one lofty and elevated eyebrow above a startlingly black eye.
“Well,” he snorted.
Crispin fanned his wings even more rapidly. How he hated that arrogant snort.
“Well,” came the snort again. “Just what is she doing?”
Blackie raised one claw and carefully scratched his beak, only partially hiding his smile which twisted and curled his lip. This, Blackie knew, would agitate Crispin even more.
The deliberate and silent gibe went home, as Blackie had anticipated. Crispin hopped backwards on the fence, momentarily seeking an avenue of escape, then straightened. He wouldn’t give Blackie the satisfaction of flying away. And, he certainly wouldn’t leave his friend who maintained her vigorous assault on the dirt.
“She . . . she was going to . . .” He didn’t finish his explanation for another voice broke in.
“Hey, Cris.” It was the furry voice of Bonnie Cottontail coming from beneath a small and heavily laden rose bush. “How long is she going to take?”
There was hardly a pause, and another voice added, “And who’s that gosh-awful big, black bird?”
Blackie preened himself once again, and ever so slightly bent downward to gaze upon the small rabbits who sat lazily, scratching themselves in the early morning sun. He smiled to himself, the warmth of their awe slowly spreading through his body.
“Hurumph, well-spoken for small bunnies,” he thought to himself.
Another voice broke in. High-pitched and squeaky, it was whispered in a thunderous undertone to the small bunnies gathered about him. “Nuts, he ain’t all that big, less’n you take in the big words, the big voice, and the big opinion he has of himself. I’ve seen grackles almost that size.”
Now, it was JW’s turn to hop and fume in midair. Glaring at the rat-tailed squirrel, he fumed, “Don’t you think it’s a bit early for the runtiest runt of squirrels to be out of his bed, my tiniest friend, Ignatius?”
“Well, you know more about beds than most of us, seeing as how you rob ’em often enough.” Iggy, as he preferred to be called, was always ready for a good fight, so long as it didn’t come to any rough stuff. After all, he really wasn’t built for it, being rather stringy and small.
JW was about to launch another verbal thrust when he was interrupted. Several things happened at the same time. Crispin took quickly to the air, the bunny rabbits turned tail and disappeared, as did Iggy who headed for the nearest tree, and JW, turning, was face to face with a long, lean cat whose tail was slowly whipping back and forth. The cat lay crouched scant inches from JW.
The large blackbird knew he had been negligent, but still he squawked, “Drat, you, Crispin, it’s your fault. Your fault, you know.” JW knew very well it was his own fault. No bird allowed any cat within several feet, for as fast as he could take to the air, the cat would be upon him before he could reach safety. JW began to inch backwards, but came up against the corner fence post which served only to further hinder any possible escape. The cat smoothly followed, licking its thin lips.
JW was large, but the cat was within a foot now, and was quite obviously enjoying itself. Mealtime was at hand, and this particular morsel would go down with even greater satisfaction than most. JW’s snide comments had often been directed at the cat and now was payoff time.
The cat’s belly touched the top rail of the fence in anticipation of its lethal leap, when Buttons burst from her hole on the outside of the fence. She had been watching the action as she made the hole just big enough for her to escape the fenced yard. As she rose from the hole, she barked furiously, leaping up against the fence, her stout, but small, body causing the fence to sway ever so slightly.
The sound of her voice and the reverberations of the fence had hardly reached JW and the cat when JW launched himself into the air. The sudden interruption broke the cat’s concentration only for a tiny fraction of a second, but it had made the difference. The large blackbird was several feet from the fence and was ascending rapidly when the cat made a futile leap, clutching at the bird and grabbing a few large and long black tail feathers. The cat landed heavily in the dust of the Great Field just in front of the small dog.
Buttons did what dogs have done for eons; she attacked, barking even more furiously than before, racing toward the cat whose back immediately arched, hair on end. Spitting furiously, the cat easily evaded the small dog’s rush, and with a quick leap over the dog, reached the base of the fence. With one swift movement, she leaped to the top where she sat, gazing down with anger and frustration.
Buttons stopped her commotion as JW circled above her. Although still haughty, his voice was clearly chagrined at his narrow escape. He curtly thanked the small dog, while at the same time blaming her and Iggy for his narrow escape, and then headed for the tall maples some distance from the fence and the immediate environs of cat and dog.
Buttons sat at the bottom of the fence, contemplating the cat. She had never really met one before, and this one had angered her. The cat hissed as Buttons moved back and forth. “You had no right to interfere.” The cat’s voice was soft and quiet, but the words were angry and tightly controlled.
Buttons looked upward, somewhat startled by the cat’s comment. Sitting, she asked, “And why not? You would have eaten poor old JW if I hadn’t.”
As the cat answered, Buttons cocked her head to one side. This cat was a female, just like her, and was a typical tabby cat, black and brown stripes mingling with patches of brown.
The hissing voice of the cat came once again. “You will leave me and mine alone. Do you understand, little dog? Or else!”
“Or else what, cat?” queried Buttons. “This is not your yard and just who do you belong to? I’ve never seen you before.”
“It’s none of your business, dog. Go, and leave me alone.” The cat sat and began washing a forepaw, her tail still lashing back and forth in poorly disguised anger.
Buttons snorted. “First, cat,” and here she emphasized the last word, “you have no business here. Secondly, I’m not afraid of you, and you will stay out of my yard. Thirdly, you will leave my friends alone. Go elsewhere, if you must hunt, but get out of my sight.”
Buttons was beginning to get angry as young pups will. She began to hop up and down on her short, stout legs, growling deeply in her throat, daring the cat to do something. Which is precisely what the cat did, as cats will.
She leaped to the ground, landing just behind Buttons, who spun on her tail. But it was too late, and Buttons was too slow, which she learned to her woe. The feline raked her claws across Buttons’s round rump, and then as Buttons whirled again, whipped her claws across a very sensitive nose.
Buttons howled in pain as the cat spat, yowling in return as her anger at the dog rose. Buttons was also becoming more and more enraged and attacked fiercely, but to little avail. She was getting badly mauled when respite arrived in the figure of her closest friend, Sally.
Sally sailed into the fight with sheer joy, bugling as she did so. The cat, who was no taller than Buttons, but longer, was really not all that big. In fact, the cat was downright thin, her sides sunken in, with little evidence of fat anywhere. The cat had no chance against the two fierce little fighters. For, although they were young, they had no intention of giving in. All three rolled in the dirt, giving as good as they got. Finally, seeing her opportunity, the cat broke free and with one leap made it to the top of the fence. She stood there for a moment, glaring at the two dogs, as she was now puffing from the exertion. Then, with a graceful twist, the cat disappeared from sight, leaving the two dogs wondering how she could do it.
Both Sally and Buttons sat abruptly, taking measure of their many scratches. Buttons in particular had taken a real beating and she glared at Sally, daring her to say something. Sally did, of course, but not what Buttons had anticipated.
Instead of some dumb comment about the many scratch marks Buttons’s nose bore, Sally said in a speculative voice, “Boy, did she disappear fast. I wonder where she lives. It must be close by, though I don’t remember meeting her before.”
Buttons muttered as much to herself as to Sally, “You know, I think maybe you’re right. She didn’t really want to leave, but . . .” Here, Buttons grinned hugely, “We didn’t give her much choice, did we? Sure showed her. And, if I find her, I’m really going to give it to her. And I will find her, watch and see.”
Sally looked long at her friend. She knew Buttons, and she knew Buttons would not give up until she had evened the score. But, for some reason, it didn’t seem right. Sally was as young as Buttons was, and being a beagle, liked to hunt. But this did not set right. She didn’t say so though because she had received her share of scratches also.
They spent the remainder of the morning chasing Iggy from tree to tree, a game he enjoyed immensely, causing a great deal of racket, disturbing the larger squirrels, and, of course, setting the many birds into flight time and again. Finally, they tired and rested within the shade of one of the larger elms, before finally calling the day quits and returning to their respective homes, all agreeing beforehand to meet the next day.
For the next several days, Buttons was clearly preoccupied and did not participate in their games with the same unrestrained enthusiasm. As the days passed by, Buttons played less and less until she simply was not to be found at all.
Buttons was indeed almost invisible. She lay beneath small bushes, or deep within the tall reeds which surrounded a small garden pond, only the tips of black ears being visible. Always vigilant, her small brown eyes missed nothing that moved. She simply waited, hour after hour after hour. Sooner or later her, adversary would appear, and, then, only then, would the terrier act.
The target of her watchfulness would appear occasionally at sunset or sunrise. Rarely during the day. At night, Buttons would be inside her boy’s home, thus preventing watching round-the-clock. It simply aggravated the situation because Buttons would go to bed resentfully, sleep restlessly next to her boy, and rise angrily, rushing to the door to be let out as soon as possible.
But she came. Mommy Kitty would make her appearance sooner or later. Then, Buttons attacked, barking furiously as she raced to overtake the cat. Each time, the cat rapidly disappeared over the fence. But sooner or later, she would reappear and once again be attacked by the small terrier.
The cat appeared reluctant to stand and fight. She would stand briefly, glaring at Buttons, but would then launch herself over the fence.
After that event, the cat was to be seen crossing the Great Field at different times of the day. She was usually in the company of a tomcat, much to the glee of many creatures. As one large squirrel put it, “Humpphh! More often pregnant than not.” Then the squirrel would turn and begin to berate her many offsprings and the male who sat at her side.
Day after day, the same scene would be played out. Buttons angrily attacking and Mommy Kitty backing away, her sides heaving with her inner anger and increasing frustration.
Buttons would grin wickedly after each encounter. Mommy Kitty was wearing down. It could be seen in her thin sides, the drooping belly, and the fear growing in the cat’s eyes. She’d be sorry for attacking Buttons and Sally that long-ago day. Yes, Buttons’s persistence was paying off.
She told her best friends, Sally and Iggy, nothing. Knowing the cat’s habits, the small terrier could go back to her play during the day, becoming increasingly vigilant as night approached.
Iggy finally broached the issue because his curiosity was as long as his patience was short.
Sally silently agreed with him when he said, “Hey, Buttons, what’s going on? You’ve been up to something, haven’t you? I can tell.”
Sally joined in to urge Buttons to tell them. Buttons heaved a deep breath, looked closely at her two best friends, and then broke down and told them.
“Look,” she said, “that cat that we jumped the other day? Well, I think I know where she lives. And,” here she looked meaningfully at them, “it’s not in one of the homes.”
“Oh, nuts,” said Iggy in disgust. “All she is, is some old stray that will wreak havoc around here for a while and then leave as they always do. What’s so great about that?”
Buttons shook her head vehemently. “No, you don’t have the picture. She’s got a hole under the old part of the fence with our neighbor. You know, the old couple that we rarely see outside.”
Sally was watching Buttons with great interest. Clearly, she had a plan of action in mind, and it undoubtedly meant trouble for someone. Probably all of them. “Just what do you have in mind, Buttons?”
Buttons puffed up her small, narrow chest. “I’m going to wait until I see her leave, and then I’m going to dig her hole into nothing. She’ll have to leave, whether she likes it or not. So, there. What do you think of that?”
There was a wicked look of determination in her eyes, and neither Iggy nor Sally said anything. They simply followed behind as Buttons turned and headed for the area in question. Sally was concerned, nonetheless. This was not typical of Buttons, who never held a grudge. She was one to forgive and forget. She had never harmed anyone. But this was different. Her anger had taken on a life of its own. Sally didn’t like it, but as a good friend will in such situations, she vowed to stay with Buttons. Maybe Sally could help. How, she didn’t know; but she would try, come what may.
The three entered the garden quietly, and then lay hidden in the shade of a very large bush, which hid them from anyone in the garden. Twice a bird landed just in front of them to seek worms without being aware of the three. Finally, Iggy nudged Sally, and indicated with a twitch of his nose the direction of some movement in the thick of flowering plants. Thick ivy covered the ground between plants. The three of them watched with great anticipation as the cat emerged from the thickest area of ivy, which partially climbed the rotting fence. Looking around and seeing nothing, a lithe and sinuous leap took the cat to the top of the fence and then over.
The yard of the old couple next door sloped from front to back such that the old fence sat at least two feet above Buttons’s yard. Thus, the small, black terrier could hide to her heart’s content. She actually had a large hole in the side hill where the ground rose most steeply.
Buttons stopped in midstride as she rose. Sally was rising also, and bumped into her friend. “Heh, what gives?”
Buttons dropped her head in shame as she recalled the appearance of garden earlier in the spring. She turned and looked at Sally. “What a ninny I’ve been. I dug a good-sized hole in the side of that bank and then promptly forgot it. It’s covered by the ivy hanging down the fence. What a ninny I’ve been.”
Sally just grinned, making Buttons even more frustrated.
With the cat’s disappearance, Buttons burst from the bush, rushing toward the spot just vacated by the cat. It took only moments for the keen noses of Sally and Buttons to locate the entrance to the cat’s den. It was carefully hidden by the ivy, as the two anticipated, and lay at the foot of the old post. A partially rotten slat covered the top.
Buttons nosed about for a moment, a questioning look coming into her face. Then, she turned to the task at hand, forgetting the disquieting thought that had crossed her mind. She went fiercely to work, her broad forepaws gouging the soft dirt up and flinging it between her legs causing Iggy, who had arrived even as the two dogs raced across the yard, and Sally to move to the side to avoid being hit by the flying dirt and twigs. Buttons worked with the furious single-mindedness of her breed, never stopping for a moment before she had enlarged the opening sufficiently to allow her entrance to the pocket that lay beneath the fence.
Grass, twigs, and bits of ivy covered the floor of the makeshift den. Overhead, it was protected by an old slab of concrete that had, at one time, been meant to support the fence post. Now, only roots of bushes gave the wall some strength. It was well-situated to protect the occupants from the infrequent, but heavy, rains that came at that time of the year. Both Iggy and Sally pushed into the den, and as had Buttons, stopped in amazement. Their voices were hushed as they looked at one another.
“Wow, we sure did it this time,” muttered Iggy.
“Yeh,” agreed Sally. “But, how are we going to set this mess right?”
Buttons retreated and sat in front of the enlarged den’s opening. Her nose was caked with dirt and bits of grass and dirt clung to her bushy eyebrows. She slumped to the ground as she listened to her two friends’ wondering voices.
“Hey,” said Iggy, “they’re kind of cute. Look, Sally, their eyes are just beginning to open. How many do you count?”
Sally was in fact busy sorting out the litter of kittens, for that was what they had uncovered. Four small bundles of fur huddled together in one corner. To the far left, the shriveled bodies of two more were moldering, death having taken them several days before. One of the kittens tried to gain its feet, but could not, and the four just lay there looking with fear and wonder at the creatures which occupied the entrance to their safe home. Safe, until now.
Sally chuckled and moved toward the small kittens to examine them closer when she was suddenly thrust aside. The cat had returned unexpectedly, and now leaned backwards on her haunches in a defensive posture, a round ball of angry, erect hair. She was furious and small hissing spats were emitted regularly as she faced the beagle and squirrel before her. Neither of them moved, instinctively knowing the cat would fight to the death for her offspring, even if no harm was intended. Which it wasn’t. But neither Sally nor Iggy had the slightest idea of how to break the impasse. Frankly, they were afraid to move backwards for that might precipitate the attack as quickly as a movement forward. They would not fight the cat under these circumstances, but could not run.
A muffled voice came from behind them, “Please, let me in. It’s all my fault. Let me in. Please.” Buttons’s pleading voice finally broke the frozen figures of the creatures facing one another in the den.
Sally looked at the cat who did not move. Sally and Iggy then slowly dipped their heads, and even more slowly edged backwards. To their relief, the feline maintained her defensive stand and watched them go. Buttons replaced them and lay down, resting her nose on the ground just in front of the cat. Neither said anything for several moments.
In the most contrite voice she could manage, Buttons addressed the cat, “Please, ma’am, it’s all my fault. I did it. I didn’t know you had babies in here.”
The small feline female relaxed ever so slightly. Her glittering eyes bespoke her anger and concern. Fear lay there also for the many possibilities this intrusion could mean had already crossed her mind. Clearly, some of them were beginning to dawn on the small Scottish Terrier before her. She turned and gazed with longing at the two still figures in the corner.
Turning to Buttons, she hissed, “If you hadn’t prevented my hunting they might still be here. But, I can’t get enough food. I’ve known of your watching and seeking. And, now, you see what you have done.”
She curled herself around the four squirming figures of the newborn kittens and began to lick each of them in turn. “They’re all I have now.” Her accusing gaze never left the eyes of Buttons. “What am I to do now? I can’t defend that huge opening you’ve just made and find food so that I can nurse them.”
Buttons started to apologize, but the cat furiously hissed, “No, it’s too late. You’ve done too much harm. This is not the first litter I’ve lost.”
Mommy Kitty coughed, a retching, hacking cough that came from deep in her chest. “It’s too late. Don’t you understand?”
Her eyes glittered with suppressed grief and anger. “This will be the last. No more.”
She coughed once again, sinking down to nose each of the four remaining. Only the largest stood a chance of survival. The bright light brought no relief, only more grief. Her strength had been sapped by Buttons’s unrelenting harassment. But clearly, the three young creatures before her could not know. Only in time. Maybe not then.
Iggy and Sally pushed in beside Buttons, who lay quietly contemplating the scene before here. Iggy was as precocious as usual and just as unconcerned about the effect of his words as usual.
“Heck, Sally and Buttons can protect them, and I’ll watch from the tree overhead. You needn’t worry.”
Both dogs woofed in surprise, totally caught off-balance by the full meaning and content of Iggy’s words.
“Well,” said Sally.
“Gee,” responded Buttons.
“You’ll what?” glared the cat.
“Well, why not,” said Sally. “We got you into this mess. We can help to get you out of it.”
“No,” said Buttons. She began to back out, and looking at the cat who had partially risen, her back beginning to arch, said, “We’ll be right back. I’ve a better solution.” Buttons giggled, “You’ll see.”
The three sat outside for several minutes. The words of their discussion came muffled to the cat, who lay unmoving as her kittens nursed. The content of the discussion could not be made out, but their voices rose on occasion and then would sink. The cat began to worry that the dogs—in particular, the small black one—meant more mischief towards her and her litter. But then, Sally’s nose appeared, with Iggy’s right beside her.
“Buttons has gone to check, but we think we can solve everything,” Sally quickly said as she saw the concern on the cat’s face.
“Ya,” said Iggy, “don’t worry. Buttons can fix anything when she sets her mind to it.”
The feline was too kind to reply. Actually, she was too preoccupied with one of the kittens who had just decided he would examine the two new creatures before him, and was stumbling and lurching across the floor of the den towards them. Sally leaned forward and licked the small creatures’ face, and Iggy could only coo as they watched the odd progress of the kitten.
The small kitten was just beginning to climb Iggy’s leg when Buttons reappeared, pleasure clearly written on her features.
“Come on,” she said, “I know where to put them where they’re safe, and you . . .” She turned to the mother cat and said, “I don’t know your name.”
The cat looked enquiring, and answered with hesitancy, “All creatures hereabout simply call me Mommy Kitty.”
Iggy broke in with “Mommy Kitty. I like that. Well, Mommy Kitty, what shall we do?”
Iggy looked at Buttons and then back to Mommy Kitty, whose mind was whirling with all of the action going on about her. She was young for all the pregnancies she had experienced. She was not accustomed to three such creatures as these facing her. As her strength failed slowly, she would let matters take their course. These three would know in time.
She started to say, “Well, I don’t . . .” when Buttons reached for the kitten at Iggy’s leg. She opened her mouth and was about to try and pick the kitten up when she was stopped short by the hissing spit of Mommy Kitty whose back was arched as she sidled toward the black dog.
“Just what do you think you’re doing?” Her claws were fully displayed as she approached Iggy and Buttons.
Buttons heaved a sigh. Females could be such a problem, she thought. She hurried to answer before Mommy Kitty decided to take matters into her own hands, well, claws, that is.
“Look, I’ve got just the place for you. It’s right next door. The older couple.” She looked to Sally and Iggy for support.
Sally caught on quickly as usual, and Iggy sat to scratch his head in perplexity. Then, he, too smiled, and jumped up, upsetting the kitten, whose mewing became urgent as it flopped on its back. Mommy Kitty moved swiftly to pick up the kitten deftly in her mouth and carefully deposit it with the other three. Then, she turned back to the two dogs and the squirrel, all of whom appeared to be smiling.
“OK,” she said, “just what do you have in mind?”
Sally answered for all of them. “It’s the old couple next door. They have a box on their back porch, under cover, and it’s always fixed up, just like when before their cat died. Right?”
She turned to Buttons for agreement, and it was Iggy who answered. “Yeah, boy, did they ever spoil that cat. Too fat to even chase me.”
Buttons looked directly at Mommy Kitty. “Look,” she said, “it’s just perfect for you. Put your kittens there and they’ll always be taken care of. Just you wait and see.”
Mommy Kitty was not about to take such a drastic move, without due consideration, but the three were persuasive, and she was hungry. Without food, she could not continue to nurse the four who were always whimpering in their sleep for more, or nudging her for more milk when she didn’t have any. She really had no choice, and finally went along with them.
It was some move. Each insisted on carrying one of the kittens. Iggy could pick one up in his arms because of his clever paws shaped like hands as they were, but then he didn’t know what to do after that, sort of sitting there with a dumb look of pleasure on his face. Sally had a soft mouth and gently picked one up behind the ears just as she was supposed to. She disappeared, making Mommy Kitty very uncomfortable. As she watched Buttons’s attempt, she almost had to laugh because the Scottie would open her mouth as far as she could to pick up one of the kittens, but her long fangs prevented her from gripping the kitten carefully. In the end, it was Sally and Mommy Kitty who accomplished the move with the moral support of the other two.
Iggy, Sally, and Buttons carefully watched from cover as Mommy Kitty and her kittens were discovered by the old inhabitants of the house. The reception was as warm as the three could have hoped for, and Iggy and Sally were congratulating one another when they noticed that Buttons was absent. Sally looked at Iggy, shook her head in a worried fashion, and then left, tracking her friend quite easily, although she had an idea where to look.
As she had anticipated, Sally found Buttons digging away at Mommy Kitty’s old den. With a muffled woof, Buttons backed out as the hole collapsed. Sally watched her friend sit in front of the old den for a second, her only comment being “Buried your guilt, eh?”
Buttons walked past her best friend, her voice muffled as she moved away.
“I don’t know. Something was wrong back there. I don’t like it.”
Buttons visibly shuddered as the three moved into the Great Field. Sally dropped her head but said nothing. Iggy bounced on ahead, totally oblivious to the two dogs’ actions. He would simply await as events occurred, doing his best to help, but he was usually in the way.
As the days, passed Mommy Kitty was to be seen once again in the field. On such occasions, there would be no male accompanying her. She moved slowly, her normal lithe actions gone. With her head down, she seldom paid much attention to the other creatures. Even the small ones paid no attention to her actions. She no longer posed a threat to them.
Then she was no longer to be seen at all.
Buttons was sunning herself, squirming slowly in the dust of the afternoon. The sun would be down before long, and then the nice heat of the ground would rapidly dissipate. She looked up as Sally slowly approached. Iggy followed behind, his eyes large and questioning.
Buttons rapidly rose and shook the dust off. Something was wrong, very wrong. Saying nothing, she simply waited for Sally to speak.
Sally took a deep breath, her eyes sad. She sighed once again, glancing once in the direction of Iggy who could only droop.
“She wants you. Now. You better hurry.”
“Wa . . . wa . . . Who wants me?” Buttons was increasingly confused by the brief words and the behavior of her best friend.
“Mommy Kitty, of course. She’s at her old den. Better hurry. Iggy and I’ll stay here.”
Buttons gulped and would have asked for more information, but Sally only shook her head and pointed to the fence.
It was but a few seconds for Buttons to scramble under the fence and make her way to the old fence which leaned to one side. Mommy Kitty was there, holding herself upright by leaning in turn against the post.
The cat was gaunt, her muzzle now grey, patches of hair missing. Her eyes were large in her narrow features, but they missed nothing as Buttons slowly approached.
Buttons gulped once again, her throat tight. Her words sounded small and distant in the depths of the garden. “What is it, Mommy Kitty? You sent for me?”
Mommy Kitty’s gaze never left the eyes of Buttons as she replied softly. “Yes. I need you to do me a favor.”
She coughed, a small dot of frothy fluid appearing at the corner of her mouth.
She nodded toward the embankment behind her. “I can’t do it by myself.”
Her voice dropped as she fought the cough trying to escape. She fought the constricting band around her chest, trying her best to catch enough air to speak once again. Her sides heaved several times before her gaze returned to Buttons, who was staring in wonder at the ground behind Mommy Kitty.
“You have to do it. You must. Dig.”
Mommy Kitty slumped to the ground, all of her strength now needed to maintain her attention on the small black dog who had stepped back.
Buttons took a step backwards. “I can’t,” she said. “I can’t.”
“You must.” Mommy Kitty spoke harshly though her voice was low. “Only you can do it.”
Buttons would have turned and run, but she couldn’t move. She couldn’t evade the eyes of Mommy Kitty. She could not say no. She could only blink, remembering the day she first had dug in that embankment.
Then, taking a deep breath, she did what she had to do. Her sides ached. Her back hurt. She had a hard time even seeing the ground before her. But she dug. Dug as only she could.
Soon, a large hole in the side of the embankment loomed before the two. It was deep as it narrowed. When she was finished, she backed out and waited for Mommy Kitty to speak.
“You will return after dark. You know what to do. You’ve done it before.”
A racking cough shook Mommy Kitty, and blood appeared in the spittle on her thin lips.
Buttons couldn’t help it. Before she could stop herself, she spoke “But the kittens. What about them?”
Mommy Kitty’s eyes glittered in the growing darkness as she gasped and then whispered, “Dead. I buried them in the field where you will never find them. Dead.” She swallowed convulsively. “All dead.”
She slowly moved toward the hole, and standing there, looked down on the small black dog. “You will go now. Return in one hour.” With that, Mommy Kitty disappeared into the blackness of the hole. Mommy Kitty looked back briefly, only eyes visible, and then they, too, closed.
Buttons did as she was ordered by the cat, saying nothing, but looking back time after time. She hurt. Down deep. And, she knew the hurt would be there a very long time. There was no time for regrets. Being what she was, she accepted it. Never again would she be quite the same. Buttons was Buttons. She straightened her back and moved back to the field.
Buttons sat outside the fence. Iggy and Sally lay nearby, but neither approached her. Buttons finally stood and slowly approached the fence. She disappeared rapidly, moving toward the hole which was black against even the night.
She hesitated. How desperately she wanted to run. Run forever. Run and run and run. Run until she could remember nothing. But she couldn’t. She wouldn’t. Her head dipped once, but resolutely she moved to the side of the hole and quickly dug one more time.
There was no sound as the hole collapsed, the dirt silently sliding down toward the green of the garden’s ivy. A few bits of dirt stopped rolling against Buttons’s forepaws, but she didn’t see them as she turned away.
Followed by Iggy, Buttons made her way into the field. There, she made her way to a small mound where she sat in silence for several seconds. Sally was nowhere to be seen as Buttons raised her nose to the darkening sky.
A Scottie dog’s howl began low in their throat and emerged as a wavering low moan. It was not a loud sound, but carried well, the sadness and unhappiness tightly bound within it all too apparent.
Buttons’s lament was broken as Sally joined her friend. Then, the two sang their sad song for several minutes, their voices rising and then finally sinking into silence.
Buttons took a deep sigh as Sally said, “I’m sorry.” She was about to go on when the voice of Ssserek rose at their side, startling the two dogs who had been entirely unaware of his approach.
“Your comment was appropriate, as was your action.” He addressed each in turn. “It is never easy to be the unwitting cause of grief or death, but it is part of our world. My kind has lived with it for what seems an eternity, and if my throat could manage such sounds, I, too, would sing as you do. And now that you have sung your grief, let it also be your farewell. Put it behind you.” He swung his head at them, and if they had not moved quickly, they would have been sent tumbling in the dirt.
In a very soft voice, Buttons said, “Thank you, Great Ssserek. Thank you and . . .”
Buttons would have gone on, but Ssserek was looking intently at Sally, who squirmed beneath his unwinking gaze.
“Well, my little one?” He waited.
Sally would have squirmed even more but Buttons was gazing at her, then to Sssserek, and then she realized Iggy was not with them.
“What’s going on? Out with it, Sally. What are you two up to? If you don’t answer me, so help me, I’ll . . .”
The small voice of Iggy came plaintively from the bottom of the hill. “Please, Great Ssserek, please.”
Ssserek relented slightly and nodded into the darkness. “You may.”
There was a scrambling rush as Iggy made his way to Sally’s side. He nodded down the hill and then placed himself so that Sally was between him and Buttons.
Buttons’s voice was becoming harsh. The day had been too much. Her grief was almost drowning her. She curled her lips and was about to snarl when a small figure wavered and staggered slowly up the hill.
Buttons sat with a plop, dumbfounded, muddled, and entirely confused. It was a small cat, none too steady. But, head down, it was not about to quit as it tripped repeatedly. Soon, it stood at Buttons’s side, leaning against her.
“Oooaaarrrrhh,” he crooned as he looked up. Love and affection were there, but Buttons could only sit as she viewed the small cat. The small kitten’s eyes kept crossing as he did his best to convey his pleasure.
Iggy piped up. “It’s a him. And, look at his eyes. Wow! How he got this far is a wonder.”
“I’ll call him Cross-eye. Mommy Kitty didn’t mind. It’s her last, you see.”
This was too much. “Ssserek,” Buttons wailed. Her nose went, up and once again her voice dropped as her lament rose to the moon.
“Oooorrrrroooo!”
The End