Living with the Lama (1964)

CHAPTER FOUR

My operation was behind me, all I had to do now was to recover. Previously I had been too ill to bother WHO lived in the house or what it was like. Mister the Irish Vet had said, “You must take her home and give her love, she is starved for it, and she will not live if we keep her here.” So—Home I was taken. For the first two days and nights I was kept very quiet indeed, with the Man and the Woman nursing me all the time and persuading me to taste the choicest food. I did not take it too easily, because I WANTED to be persuaded, I WANTED to know that they thought enough of me to take the time necessary to persuade me!

One morning of the third day after Mister the Irish Vet had been, the Man said, “I'm going to bring in the Lady Ku'ei, Feef.” He went out and soon returned, murmuring affectionately to someone. As they drew near he said, “Feef, this is the Lady Ku'ei. Ku, this is Mrs. Fifi Greywhiskers.” Immediately I heard the most beautiful Young Lady Siamese Cat voice it has been my pleasure to hear. The range! The power! I was enthralled and wished that my poor dear Mother could have heard such a voice. The Lady Ku'ei sat on the bed with the Man sitting between us. “I am the Lady Ku'ei,” she said, “But as we are going to live together you may call me MISS Ku'ei. You are blind, so when you are able to walk I will take you around and point out obstacles, ‘the facilities,’ where you eat, etcetera. And in connection with that,” she remarked in a self satisfied tone, “here we do NOT eat scraps, nor do we rake out the garbage (when anyone is looking), our food is purchased specially for us and is of the best quality. Now pay great attention, for I am going to brief you on the household, and I shall not say it twice.” “Yes, Miss Ku,” I replied humbly, “I give you my whole attention.” I eased myself slightly in order to release the pressure on my stitches.

“This is Howth, County Dublin,” commenced Miss Ku, “We live in a house perched right on top of a cliff. The sea is a hundred and twenty feet below us—straight down, so don't fall over or people will be annoyed if you should hit a fish. You must maintain your dignity with visitors—remember you are a P.S.C.—but you may romp freely with The Family.”

“Please Miss Ku,” I interjected, “What is a P.S.C.?”

“Well! Well! You ARE a stupid Old Woman Cat,” replied Miss Ku, “ANYONE would know that P.S.C. indicates that you are a Pedigree Siamese Cat—although you are not showing the intelligence expected of one. But don't interrupt, I'm giving you the essential information.” “I'm sorry, Miss Ku, I won't interrupt you again,” I answered. Miss Ku thoughtfully scratched her ear with her foot and continued, “The ‘Man’ as you call him is the Lama T. Lobsang Rampa of Tibet. He understands Siamese Cats as well as you and I do, so you cannot keep your thoughts from him. He is big, bearded and bald and he is nearly dead in his heart with a coronary or two. He has been very ill indeed and we all thought we would lose him.” I nodded gravely, knowing what it was like to be ill. Miss Ku continued, “If you have troubles, tell him and he will help you straighten out. If you want any particular food, tell him, he will pass on the news to Ma.” “Ma?” I queried, “Is your Mother with you?” “Don't be so ridiculous!” replied Miss Ku with some asperity, “Ma is Rab, the Woman, you know, the one who does our shopping, cleans our tins, makes our beds, cooks for us, and lets us sleep on her bed. I'm her cat, you know, you are the Lama's cat,” said Miss Ku smugly. “You will sleep in this room, beside him. Oh, of course, you cannot see Ma. She is a bit short, nice eyes and nice ankles and a comfortable plumpness everywhere else. No bones will stick into you when you sit on HER lap!”

We paused for a moment, Miss Ku to recover her breath, and I to absorb the information passed to me so suddenly. Miss Ku idly played with the end of her tail and continued, “We have a Young English Lady living with us as one of the family. She is very tall, very thin, and has hair the colour of a marmalade Tom I once saw. Quite kind, though, and she will give you your dues although she DOES like big smelly dogs and screaming children.”

“Now, Ku'ei,” said the Lama, “Feef has to rest, you can tell her some more later.” He picked up Miss Ku and carried her out of the room. For a time I lay on his bed, purring with contentment. No more scraps—I'd always thought I would like to have something bought specially for me. To be wanted, that had been my ambition throughout the long lean years. Now I WAS wanted, very much so. I smiled contentedly and dropped off to sleep.

As my operation wounds healed, and the stitches were removed, I was able to move about more and more. Very cautiously at first, because of my sightlessness, but with more assurance when I found that nothing was moved unless I was first taken to it and shown its position in relation to other things. Miss Ku'ei went about with me, telling me where everything was, and people who came were cautioned that I was blind. “What!” they would reply, “Blind? But she has such big beautiful blue eyes, how can she be blind?”

At last I was considered well enough to be taken into the garden. The air was beautiful, with the smell of the sea and the plants. For many days I would not let anyone get between me and the door, I was constantly afraid that I should be shut out. Miss Ku would chide me, “Don't be such an old fool, Feef, we are PEOPLE here, no one will shut you out—ever.” We would lie in the warm grass and Miss Ku would describe the scene for me. Below us the tumbling waves, reaching up towards us with fingers of white spume. Water in the cave beneath the house grumbled and roared and, on stormy days, seemed to shake the whole cliff. To the left was the sea wall, with the lighthouse at the end. A mile or so across the water Ireland's Eye stood sheltering the little harbour from the worst buffets of the turbulent Irish Sea. To the right the Devil's Tooth projected a few yards from the main mass of land, protecting the Men’s Bathing Place from the heavier waves. Miss Ku loved to watch the men bathing, perhaps I should also if I had had my sight.

Behind the house reared the peak of the Hill of Howth, from the top of which, on a clear day, could often be seen the mountains of Wales, on the mainland, and the Mountains of Mourne in Northern Ireland. These were happy days, as we lazed in the sunlight and Miss Ku told me of Our Family. Gradually I lost my fears that I would be shut out. No longer did I have to be sent to a great rough Tom. Now I was wanted for myself alone, and—as Miss Ku herself said—I expanded under the influence like a flower taken into the sunlight after being in the darkness of a lonely cellar. We loved those days, the Lama would put me on the lowest branches of a small tree and hold me so that I could not fall, and I would dream that here at last I had entered Heaven.

The gulls bothered me at first, as they swooped over they would scream and say “Look at that cat down there, dive on her, drive her over the cliff and then we will eat her.” Miss Ku would growl our famous Siamese War Cry and would unsheath her claws ready for any attack. Faintly on the air would come a “thug-thug, thug-thug” and all the birds overhead would wheel madly and rush off. For long this puzzled me greatly, I could not always be asking questions, then I found the answer. The fishing boats were coming in and the birds were after the fish offal being washed from the decks.

I was lazing in the warm shade of a Veronica bush one sunny afternoon when Miss Ku called, “Get yourself ready, Feef, we are going for a drive.” A DRIVE? In a CAR? I almost fainted with horror and astonishment. A CAR and Miss Ku'ei was PLEASED! “But Miss Ku,” I expostulated, “I simply COULDN'T go in a car. What if they left me somewhere!” “FEEF!” called the Lama, “Come on, we are all going for a ride.” I was so faint with fright that I had to be picked up and carried to the car. Not so Miss Ku, she sang with joy; rushed into the car and yelled, “I bag the front seat!” “Is the Lama going to drive, Miss Ku?” I asked timidly. “Of course he is, and don't say ‘the Lama’ all the time, say ‘Guv’ the same as I do.” Sure enough the Lama, sorry—the Guv—got into the car and sat on a front seat beside Miss Ku. Ma got in the car and sat at the back, taking me on her lap. The Young English Lady (I could not say her name yet) sat beside Ma. “Sure you have locked the doors?” asked the Guv. “Of course, don't we always?” replied Ma. “Come on, come on, what are we wasting time for?” shrieked Miss Ku. The Guv did whatever one has to do to make the car start and we moved off.

I was amazed at the smoothness of our progress. This was far different from being thrown violently from side to side as had been my experience in France and America. We moved down a steep hill and turned a very sharp corner. Rolling along for perhaps—what was it here? Miles? Kilometers?—three or four minutes we turned sharp right, went for another minute or so and stopped. The engine was turned off. The smell of the sea was strong. Light spray, blown on the breeze, tickled my nostrils. Sounds of many men, sounds of thug-thug engines. A strong smell of fish and of fish that had been too long in the sunlight. Smell of smoke and of tarred rope. “Ah! Lovely fish!” breathed the Young English Lady, “Shall I go in and get some?” So off she went to see an old friend who would sell us fish straight from the sea. CLANG! went the luggage-thing at the back as the wrapped fish were dropped in. BANG! went the door as the Young English Lady got in the car and slammed the door shut. “Miss Ku!” I whispered “What is this place?” “This? This is the harbour where all the fishing boats come to bring our supper. Big storage sheds by the side of us, water at the other side. Ships tied up with bits of rope so they can't go off until everyone is ready. That smoke? Oh, they stick fish in some smoke, they don't go bad so quickly that way—or you can't smell it so quickly because of the smoke.” She jumped up on the back of the Guv's seat and yelled, “WHAT ARE WE WAITING FOR? Let us go to Partmarnock.” “Oh Ku, you are an impatient wretch!” said the Guv, starting the car thing again and moving it off.

“Miss Ku!” I said in, I'm afraid, rather worried tones, “This Young English Lady, I cannot say her name, and the way I pronounce it it is a curse on a too-eager Tom. What shall I do?” Miss Ku sat and thought for a while and then said, “Well, I don't know, I'm sure.” Suddenly she perked up and said, “Hey! I know! She has on a green frock, she is very tall and thin and the hair on top is sort of yellow: Hey, Feef, call her BUTTERCUP—she won't know!” “Thank you, Miss Ku,” I replied, “I will refer to her as Miss Buttercup.” “Miss nothing,” retorted Miss Ku, “We should miss Buttercup, but she is Missus, like you, she has had kittens too. No, Feef, you are not in French polite society now. You are HOME, so say ‘Guv’, ‘Ma’, and ‘Buttercup.’ I am MISS Ku.”

The car rolled on, gently, smoothly. Almost before I knew what was happening we had reached ‘there’ and stopped. The doors of the car were opened and I was lifted out. “Ah! This is the LIFE!” yelled Miss Ku. Gentle hands took mine and shuffled them through the sand. “Look Feef, sand,” said the Guv. The roar and swish of the waves against the rocks soothed me, the sun was warm on my back. Miss Ku was scampering madly up and down the sand, yelling her joy. The Family (MY Family) sat quietly by. I sat at their feet and toyed with a pebble. I was too old and had not yet healed enough to run with wild whoops like Miss Ku. With the comfort and warm sunlight I fell asleep . . .

Clouds were over the sun, there was a faint drizzle of rain. “Strange!” I thought, “How can I be HERE?” Then it came to me, I was Astral Travelling. Light as a cloud I drifted along over coastal roads, moving inland. The great Airport at Le Bourget, inland, inland. A long row of poplar trees still standing sentinel along the straight white road. The spire of the church, half shrouded with mist and the trees in the graveyard weeping in the rain for those who lay beneath. I drifted, wraithlike myself, drifted and came lower. Suddenly I saw, for one is not blind in the Astral, “Sacred to the Memory of . . . ” For a moment I was at a loss, then comprehension hit me. “MADAME ALBERTINE!” I shouted “Buried here!” A sob escaped me. THEN she had been the only one to love me. Now she was gone and I had come into happiness and love. But then, I thought, she had gone from this wicked world and entered into love and happiness herself. With a sigh and a last look I again rose and drifted on.

Beneath me the Lodgekeeper was sweeping a courtyard at the back of his Lodge. A dog, chained to the wall, growled and whined uneasily at my passing. The House loomed before me, stately, cold, unfriendly, as if forbidding one to enter. Mme. Diplomat came out on to the terrace. Instinctively I turned to run, but of course she did not see me hovering at shoulder-height. She looked thin and haggard. Great lines of discontent marred her features. The ends of her mouth turned sharply down, and with thin lips and pinched nostrils she looked bitter indeed.

I moved on, moved toward the Old Apple Tree, and halted in shocked horror. The Tree was gone, felled, and even the stump had been extracted: Silently, sorrowing, I hovered around. Moved by some inexplicable impulse I drifted towards the old outhouse which had been my only home. My heart almost stopped; the remains of my friend the Apple Tree were piled against one wall as firewood. A movement at the door, and there was Pierre, axe in hand upraised. I screamed and faded from that place . . .

“There! There! Feef,” said the Guv as he lifted me to his shoulder and walked around with me. “You have had a nightmare—in the sunlight, too. I'm surprised at you, Feef!” I shuddered, and felt sudden gratitude. Turning my head I licked his ear. He carried me down to the waters edge and stood there, with me on his shoulder. “I know what you feel, Feef,” he said, “I've been through hardships as well, you know.” Stroking my back, he turned and walked over to the others. “Shall we get back?” he asked, “Old Granny Greywhiskers is getting tired.” I purred and purred and PURRED. It was just wonderful having someone who thought of me, who could TALK to me. We all got in the car and we started back on the journey home.

I suppose I am a cranky old woman cat, or something, but I have a few phobias. Even now I do not like motor cars. Being blind has something to do with it, but I still have a fear that I am going to be left somewhere. Miss Ku'ei is poised, an experienced society lady whom nothing ruffles. At all times she is completely master (or mistress?) of the situation. I—well, as I say, I am sometimes a little eccentric. That makes it all the more wonderful that they love me so. It is fortunate that they do, because now I cannot BEAR to be alone. For years I was starved of affection and now I want all there is to spare!

Over the Hill of Howth we drove, along where the tram tracks meandered by the side of the road. To the highest point and beyond. Down to the village, turn right before reaching the big Church, past Mr. and Mrs. O'Grady's house, another left and we are home. Dear old Mr. Loftus, “our” policeman, was looking over the wall. Never did we pass him without speaking, for the Guv said Mr. Loftus was one of the best men in Ireland or anywhere else!

I was tired, glad to get home. All I wanted was some food, something to drink, and then sleep on the Guv's bed, with the sound of the waves lulling me, reminding me of the time my Mother sang me to sleep. The last I heard before dropping off was Miss Ku, “Hi! I want to go down to the garage with you and put away the car.” The soft shutting of a door, and all was quiet. It was wonderful sleeping, knowing that no one was coming to chase me or carry me off to a dark woodshed. Knowing that I was respected as if I were a human, had the same rights as everyone else in the house. With a sigh of contentment, I curled up and snored a little louder.

“FEEF! Granny Greywhiskers! Get off that bed, the Guv wants to get in.” “Ku'ei, don't be such a bully, CERTAINLY Fifi can stay on the bed. Now STOP it!” The Guv sounded cross. I raised my head so that I could hear better, then guessed where the floor was and jumped off. Gentle but firm hands caught me and lifted me back. “Now Feef! You are as bad as Ku'ei. Stay on the bed and keep me company.” I stayed.

The Lama (sorry, Guv!) was a very sick man. Some time before he had had T.B. (Tuberculosis, short for tubercle bacillus) (one of my children had died from that, years ago), and although he had been cured it had left his lungs permanently impaired. He had had coronary thrombosis three times and he had other troubles as well. Like me, he had to rest a lot. Sometimes in the night he would walk up and down the room in pain; I would walk beside him, trying to console him. Those long hours of the night were the worst, when we were alone. I slept much through the daylight hours so that I could be with him in the nights. Ma slept in a room at the other end of the house, and Miss Ku looked after her. Buttercup slept in a room downstairs where she could look out far over the Irish Sea and, in the mornings, see the Liverpool Boat steam toward the Port of Dun Laoghaire.

The Guv and I slept in a room overlooking Balscadden Bay, overlooking the Harbour and the Irish Sea. He would lie for hours on his bed watching the ever-changing scene with his powerful Japanese binoculars. Our very great friend Brud Campbell, had taken out the poor glass originally in place, and inserted instead the finest plate-glass so that there was no distortion of the view. As we sat together, him scanning the view, he would tell me all he saw, putting it into telepathic thought-pictures so that I could see as clearly as he. Ireland's Eye, he would tell me of the brave monks who years ago had tried to make a little church there, but had at last been defeated by the storms.

Miss Ku told me of Ireland's Eye as well. She had been brave enough to go with the Guv in a little boat all the way across the water and play in the sand on the Island. She told me of Pirate Cats who lived on the Island and frightened the birds and the rabbits. The Guv did not tell me of the Pirate Cats (perhaps he did not think cats would sink so low), but he did tell me of human smugglers, and he could even name them. Quite a lot of smuggling was done in the district, and the Guv knew almost everyone connected with it, he had taken many photographs with a telephoto camera.

Ma did photography, too, and wherever she went she carried a camera in her handbag. But Ma's chief concern was to look after us all and try to keep the Guv going for a few more years. She was busy all the time. Miss Ku, of course, supervised everything and saw that no one slacked and that she got all the car rides that she wanted.

Buttercup was very busy as well. She helped look after the house and the Guv and she took long walks so that she could get ideas for drawing and painting. She is a very clever artist, Miss Ku and the Guv tell me. That is why I asked her to illustrate this little book of mine and Miss Ku says that she is doing it better than anyone else could. I wish I could see them, but no one can give me sight.

We loved to get the Guv in bed before he had a heart attack, and then have Mr. Loftus come and talk to him. Mr. Loftus was a great big man, tall and broad, and ALL of us admired him immensely. Miss Ku, who has given me permission to say that she is a bit of a flirt, loved him. Mrs. O'Grady was another welcome visitor, one who would drop in at any time. One who was accepted as “one of the family.” Brud Campbell did not call nearly as often as we would have liked, he was a busy man—busy because he was such a good workman—and his visits were all too few.

One day we were discussing travel, and air travel in particular. Miss Ku said, “Oh, but when we came from England (with cries of joy!) the airline would not have CATS in the same compartment as humans. The Guv said: ‘All right, then if they don't want my cat they do not want me, we will charter a plane and take all our things as well.’ ” Miss Ku paused for dramatic effect, and continued, “So we came by chartered plane and they had a bottle of oxygen for the Guv and he got cross at Dublin Airport because they wanted to put him in a wheel-chair as an invalid!” It gave me a warm feeling inside to know that The Family thought as much of Miss Ku—and me!—as they did of any human. Then we smiled as the Guv chuckled at us and told us that we were a gossiping pair of old woman cats!

“Miss Ku,” I said one morning, “Mrs. O'Grady comes here a lot, but why does not MR. come here?” “Oh dear dear!” replied Miss Ku, “He has to work, he looks after the electricity of Ireland and if he didn't pour it in the wires how would we cook?” “But Miss Ku, we use gas in a metal thing and men bring the metal things here once every three weeks.” Miss Ku sighed in exasperation; “Feef,” she said, after taking a deep breath to calm herself like the Guv had shown us. “Feef, people SEE, and if they are to see they use electricity. Right? You don't see, so you don't know. We have glass bottles tied to poles and hanging from the ceilings. When people tip electricity into them from the wires we get a light. WE USE ELECTRIGITY, Feef!” She turned away with a muttered, “Cats make me sick, always asking fool questions.” We used electricity all right, the Guv and Ma took a lot of colour photographs and showed them on a screen with a special lamp. I loved to sit with my back to the lamp, facing the screen, because the rays from the lamp were beautifully warm.

We did not have a telephone at Howth, someone told me that the Irish telephone people had no lines to spare. I could not understand why they did not put up more, like other countries did, but it did not matter to me. We used Mrs. O'Grady's phone, which was offered so gladly. Ma was VERY fond of “Ve O'G” as we called her. The Guv liked her as well, but he saw more of Mr. Loftus. From the big picture window overlooking the bay Mr. Loftus could be seen coming round the corner at the bottom of the steep hill, then trudging up Balscadden Road and right away to the end where all the picnickers went. When he went off duty he would often call in to see us—and he was always a welcome visitor. The Guv would be in bed, and Mr. Loftus would sit facing him and the window.

We listened to the world, too! The Guv had a very powerful short-wave radio set which would bring in programs from China, Japan, India—and the Irish Police and Fire Stations! I preferred music from Siam, or Thailand, or whatever they now call the country of my ancestors. To the music of Siam I would sit and sway and gently keep time with my head. I would see in my mind's eye the temples, the fields and the trees. I would look back at the whole history of my ancestors. Some of us went to Tibet (where the Guv came from) and there we guarded the Temples and the lamaseries. Like the proctors of Tibet, we too were trained to discourage thieves, and safeguard the jewels and the religious objects. In Tibet we were almost black because of the intense cold. It is perhaps not generally known that my race alter in colour according to the temperature. In a cold, frozen country we grow very very dark. In the tropical countries we are almost white. Our kittens are born pure white, and soon after the characteristic ‘markings’ appear. Just as humans have different colours, such as white, yellow, brown and black, so have we. I am a seal-pointed cat, while Miss Ku'ei is a chocolate-pointed cat. Her Father was, indeed, the Champion, Chocolate Soldier. Miss Ku had a very wonderful pedigree. My papers, of course, had been lost. Miss Ku and I were discussing it one day. “I wish I could show you my papers, Miss Ku,” I said, “It grieves me to think they have been left in France. I feel, well, kind of NAKED without them.” “There! There! Feef,” soothed Miss Ku, “Think nothing of it. I will have a word with the Guv and ask him to destroy mine, then BOTH of us will be paperless.” Before I could expostulate she had wheeled round and stalked out of the room. I heard her going down the stairs to where the Guv was doing something with a long brass tube which had glass at both ends. It seemed that he put the thing to one eye so that he could see better farther. Shortly after, the Guv and Miss Ku came up, still arguing. “Oh well,” he said, “If that is the way you want it—you always were a crazy cat!” He went to a drawer and I heard the rustling of papers and then the rasping of a match being struck. The smell of burning paper reached me and then the clatter of fire irons as the ashes were stirred into nothingness. Miss Ku came over and gave me a push. “Okay,” she said with a smile, “Now stop your stupid worry. The Guv and Ma do not care a hang for these papers, or pedigrees, WE are THEIR children.”

My nose wrinkled, and I sneezed. There was a beautiful smell in the air, something I had never smelled before. “Feef! Where are you, Feef?” Ma was calling me. I told her that I was coming as I jumped off the bed. Following my nose—being led by that wonderful smell—I went down the stairs, “Lobster, Feef,” said Ma. “Try it!”

Our kitchen had a stone floor and the Guv once told Miss Ku and me that there was a story to the effect that a passage under the flagstones connected the kitchen with the cave below. It made me nervous in case some pirate or smuggler should push up the stone from beneath and I should fall through. But Ma had called, and called for a new sort of food. Being a French Siamese Cat I had a natural interest in food. Ma tweaked my ears with affection and led me to the dish of lobster. Miss Ku was already at hers. “Get crackin' Feef,” she said, “You are poking around like a real old Irish Biddy!” Of course I was never upset by what Miss Ku said, she had a heart as good as the purest shrimp meat, and she had taken me, a dying, destitute stranger, into her home with gladness. For all her sternness, for all her autocratic manner, she was a person whom to know was to love.

The lobster was delicious! “From Ireland's Eye, Feef,” said Miss Ku, “The Guv thought we would like it for a treat.” “Oh!” I replied, “Doesn't he eat it?” “Never! Thinks it is horrible muck. Still, if you and I like it he will buy it for us. Remember those shrimps, Feef?” I did indeed! When the Guv and Ma first brought me to the house I was hungry, but almost too ill to eat. “Give her a tin of shrimps,” said the Guv, “She is weak with hunger.” The tin was opened, but I really could not be bothered. The Guv took a shrimp and wiped it across my lips. I thought I had never tasted anything more heavenly. Almost before I knew it, I had cleared the whole tin. It made me really ashamed of myself and I grow hot even now whenever I think of it. If Miss Ku wants to make me blush she says, “Remember those shrimps, Feef?”

“Feef!” said Miss Ku, “The Guv is going to take us for a ride. We are going past the cottage where you lived. Now don't throw a fit; we are going PAST.” Miss Ku went out to walk down to the garage with the Guv to get the car, a good Humber Hawk. I stayed with Ma, helping her get ready, then went downstairs to make sure that Buttercup had locked the garden gate at the side. We got in the car and drove down the hill, under the tram bridge and on to Sutton (where another old friend, Dr. Chapman, lived). On we went, covering many miles and eventually reaching Dublin. Miss Ku helped the Guv drive, telling him when to go fast, what cars were about, and which turnings to take. I learned a lot from her. I learned about Dublin. In between directing the Guv—“Stop! Stop! Mind this corner, quick! Don't let that car pass” she described the sights for me. “Now here is Westland Row Station, Feef, where the trains go from. We turn right here, Guv. Yes Feef, we are now in Nassau Street. Slow up, Guv, I'm telling Feef about this. We used to live here, Feef, opposite Trinity College grounds. Guv you are going so fast I can't tell Feef. This is St. Stephen's Green, I've been in there. Ducks quack in that place. Mind, Guv, there is a Garda on the corner. We get our radios down that street, Feef.” On we went through the streets of Dublin, Miss Ku giving a running commentary. Then, with streets and houses behind us, the Guv pressed down something with a foot and the car ran faster as more food went into it.

Along the mountain roads we went, along by the side of what Miss Ku called “a reservoir” which seemed to be a drinking bowl for Dublin. We came to the cottage. The car stopped. The Guv glanced in my direction and seeing how I was affected, speeded up. I breathed with relief, half fearing, in spite of all, that I was going to be returned as a useless old blind cat. To show my happiness I purred and licked Ma's hand. “Great Tomcats! Feef,” said Miss Ku, “We thought you were going to throw a fit and pass away in the odor of sanctity! Brace up, Old Girl, YOU ARE A MEMBER OF THE FAMILY!”

We played among the heather for a time. Miss Ku shouting about how many rabbits she was going to catch. Then she saw what the Guv said was a sheep, and fell abruptly silent. I could not see the creature, but I did detect a strange muttony smell and the odor of old wool. Soon we got in the car and went speeding off again on the way home. As we passed the Bailey Lighthouse, on Howth Head, the fog horn was bellowing like a cow about to give birth. A tram rumbled by, its wheels going ‘clankety-clank, clankety-clank’ on the iron rails. “Stop at the Post Office,” said Ma “There should be some parcels there.”

“Feef,” said Miss Ku as we waited for Ma, “Feef, a man told the Guv your two kittens are doing fine. They are growing well and have black faces and tails now.” I sighed with content. Life was good to me: My children were happy, and together. They were the last kittens I would ever have, and I was proud of them, proud that they had been accepted, and that they were happy.