Wednesday, February 21, 2007
THE COUNTESS
The Countess, by Dr. James L. Choron , is being presented to you on Norma's Ark with the beautiful and happy smile this poignant story gave me. ~ Enjoy! ~ Love Ruby *o*
The Countess rode home with Igor on his motorbike… she was a little puff of gray fur, wrapped in an insulated handkerchief and nestled into the pocket of his field jacket. Only the tip of her little pink nose protruded from the closed pocket. Her little eyes were tightly shut. The veterinarian had expressed real doubts that they would ever open… "she’s just too young" he had said. Still, Olga wanted a kitten, and truth be known, Igor had already grown attached to the little cat, who was resting quietly in his pocket.
They took turns sitting up with her, feeding her sugared milk with an eyedropper. She slept in a shoebox, padded by one of Igor’s woolen uniform shirts… a space just large enough to accomodate one miniscule cat and a hot water bottle wrapped in Igor’s old fur shapka… The little cat, of course, thought that the old cap was "mama."
Somehow, the kitten survived. "The Countess" Igor called her, and the name stuck. "She doesn’t know that she’s a cat," he would spell out the last word carefully, letter by letter, in
the event that the Countess might hear and be offended… "She thinks she’s a person… an aristocrat…"
In fact, the little cat was very bright. She learned from watching Igor and Olga. She was never exposed to cats. In fact, she intensely disliked cats. She had her own little bowl, her own little bed, and her very own spot in front of the television. As she grew, she learned how to turn the television on and off by swatting repeatedly at the switch, which was only just within her reach, and how to change the channel by doing the same thing.
One night, when the Countess was about a year old, Igor woke up suddenly in the night to the sound of the toilet flushing. Olga was asleep in bed beside him. "Thieves" he thought, reaching into the night stand for his service pistol…Stupid thieves, on top of that…"
He tiptoed toward the bathroom, shoved the door open quickly, leveled his pistol and switched on the light… the room was empty… no one around but The Countess, who was looking up at him with big green eyes as though he were the village idiot.
"Must have been dreaming" he thought, and went back to bed.
Later in the night, it happened again. This time Igor knew that he wasn’t dreaming. He got up and went quietly to the bathroom, and saw… The Countess… Sitting on the toilet like a human, her tail raised, doing her duty… he watched in awe as she finished, then… jumping almost straight up, she grabbed the pull-chain of the overhead tank in her little front paws, swung down with all of her weight on the chain, and flushed the toilet.
"Amazing" Igor thought, and laughed all the way back to bed. The next morning, he shared the story with Olga, who also thought it funny, but completely understood. After all, The Countess had learned it from them. She had no idea that she was a "Koshka"… a cat.
Igor and Olga understood The Countess. They could communicate. It was as though she were their child… the child that they could never have… The Countess even learned to "speak"… she didn’t "meow" like a normal cat… she broke her meows up into a rhythmic pattern, which, if you were around her long enough, you could almost make out as words and short sentences such as "I love you, Papa", "I’m hungry", and "Play with me…"
For over eighteen years Igor, Olga and The Countess lived together in harmony… a happy little family. The Countess was also childless, but she was, in fact "the baby"… a perpetual child, babied by her loving parents, who adored her. No family photo was without The Countess. Her photos filled every album… she was… "Papa’s Baby."
In the summer of 1997, just as the real warmth of summer was settling in on Moscow, The Countess died. She passed away in her sleep, a little old lady, who was full in her years. Igor and Olga were heartbroken, but they understood that she was, in fact, rather old in Cat years. They burried her in her favorite spot in the garden, beneath the yellow rose, and a little brass plate that said:
The Countess
Always Papa’s Baby
6 March, 1979 - 23 July, 1997
The house was empty. It was devoid of laughter. Everywhere Igor and Olga looked, there was something that reminded them of The Countess… their baby… Her little toys were exactly where she had left them. Her little bed still sat in it’s place in the corner… the old shapka… the one that had kept her warm in her first few weeks of life… still in it’s place in her bed. Her pictures still graced the walls and the albums… Igor, mentioned… just once… getting another kitten… Olga was horrified. No other cat could replace their baby…
About a month after The Countess died, Igor woke suddenly in the night to the sound of the toiler flushing… He didn’t give it a thought. It was just The Countess. Then… he came completely awake… The Countess was gone. Silently he reached into the nightstand and took out his old service automatic. He tiptoed to the bathroom, leveled the pistol, shoved the door open, and switched on the light… Nothing…
"Must have dreamed it…" he thought, and went back to bed. Less than an hour later, it happened again. Once again, the toilet was empty. He padded off back to bed. As he lay there, thinking about what had happened. Then, he felt something tug at the bedspread in a very familiar way, and distinctly heard a meow… not just any meow… The Countess. It was as plain as day… Her rhythmic pattern… her feline attempt at human speech, as plain as it had ever been as the little unseen cat bleated… "I love you, Papa…"
Igor smiled, "I love you, too, Countess", he said softly, then rolled over, and went to sleep. In the morning, he would tell Olga, who was still sleeping soundly.
United States and Russian Federation Copyright©2004/2006: Dr. J. Lee Choron. All rights reserved unless specifically granted in writing.
