Cats In Clover

  ***

  "Shall we introduce the cats?" Ginna put down her empty glass.

  "Now? I don't know if I'm ready for this."

  "It'll be all right. Clyde and Jeremy are easy-going and they know they're in George's territory. George can't fight if nobody will fight with him."

  George prowled back and forth in the hall, the tip of his tail wig-wagging his displeasure about the two felines he could smell. Ginna opened my studio door.

  Jeremy was sprawled in a pool of sunshine on the floor. Clyde perched on the corner of my desk. For a moment George stared at them, then dropped to his belly, laid his ears back and inched toward Jeremy, his growl rising to almost a scream as he threatened murder.

  "Now we're for it!" I said.

  Jeremy yawned and lazily rolled onto his back, waggling his front paws and exposing his soft, vulnerable tummy. George stopped moving. After a moment he marched over to Jeremy and smacked him on the nose. Jeremy hissed but remained supine.

  "I told you it would be okay," said Ginna.

  George, having beaten Jeremy into submission, decided to deal with Clyde. He jumped onto the desk and crouched in battle mode, growling again. Clyde hunched, growling back. George snarled and spat, smashing Clyde across the face. After a tense moment, Clyde carefully backed away, inch by slow inch, until he could leap to the window sill.

  George's tail was lashing. I was afraid he'd chase Clyde and continue his attack, but he jumped down, strolled regally into the hall and disappeared. Clyde and Jeremy relaxed and went back to sprawling.

  "There," Ginna said. "That was easy, wasn't it?"

  "Ginna, maybe I do worry too much. But somebody has to do it."

  VIII - Revamp Camp

  Ginna's husband, Tom, arrived a few days later. As he got out of his van, I noticed he'd given up on his thinning hair and shaved it off.

  "The polished head looks good," I said, hugging him.

  He grinned. "No combs, no brushes, no shampoo. I always did like the simple life." He was shaking hands with Ben when he saw the well. "Is that for real?"

  "As real as it gets," Ben said.

  "No kidding!" Tom took the lid off and peered into the depths. "I thought it was some kind of fancy decoration."

  "The pump house is beside the wood shed." Ben pointed at the two structures attached to the back of the house. "I don't think you'll fit through the door, though." Tom was a big man with broad shoulders that had served him well when he played football in college.

  He opened the door, bent down and peered at the pump. "Interesting." He backed away and looked at the pump house itself. "Wouldn't take much to enlarge that."

  "Holly wants her house fixed," Ginna said.

  Tom laughed and hugged her again. "No kidding! Let's get at it, Ben. Pour me a beer and we'll walk around the inside and see what needs to be done."

  I had visions of the entire house being gutted by six in the morning and Ben and Tom hard at work with hammer and saw. For one insane moment, I thought of rushing inside and making a dozen casseroles in case the stove disappeared.

  Ginna looked at my face and said, "Relax! They won't start tonight. Not if I have anything to say about it."