Molly

Molly showed up at our house the day her owner died. She belonged to our neighbor, Mae Hurley. An older lady who passed in her sleep. We found her on the porch, all comfy, like she belonged there. Not sure why she picked us. There were many other families on our block she could’ve chosen. People more likely to warm up to a small gray and white tiger cat.

Dad attempted to shoo her away, but she never went far. Partway across the lawn, she’d turn back to look at him. “Get!” He’d holler as he strode into the house.

He tried tossing tennis balls at her. Didn’t matter. Soon's he was in the house, she trotted back and hopped into 'her' chair. Dad was not a cat lover. He liked dogs more, but we didn’t have one. Too much responsibility, he said. Mom didn’t agree, but she didn’t argue.

Now she said, “Oh, let the cat stay, Don. She’s got nowhere to go now Mae’s gone. And she is not going to any shelter! Mae was a good neighbor. We should take care of Molly for her.”

Dad just walked away.

Me and my older sister, Jeana, started sneaking Molly into the house. And Mom let us. Then, one day, Dad happened to come looking for us. Found us playing with Molly on the floor.

“Jeana, Neen— What the hell? Get that cat out of here! Now!”

“No! She’s in our room. Not botherin’ you!” Fiercely, I faced off with him.

“Dayl!” He hollered for Mom. “Dayl, I said I didn’t want this cat in the house! I said—”

“Don,” said Mom, coming into our room, “Molly’s been in the house for weeks. This is the first time you happened to notice. Let her be. She’s not an outside cat.”

He stared at her, wanting to pull the king of the castle routine. Mom stood her ground in the patient calm way she had, and in the end, he gave a little huffy sigh. “You’re lucky I love you! All of you!” and he left without saying what he’d come in for.

That’s not to say that he gave in completely. He tossed Molly out when he was home alone, or if she strayed into his territory. She tried to soften him up, hopping into his lap some evenings while we watched TV. Put a paw out like she was asking him to pet her. But Dad wasn’t swayed.

“Get away! Go bother someone else! Stupid cat! Doesn’t she get it? I’m not her buddy!”

“You’re a meanie head!” I hurled at him the last time she tried. Gathering her up in my arms, I went to join my mother on the couch. “We love you, Molly. We won’t let him hurt you, right Momma!”

“He wouldn’t actually hurt her, Neena,” said Mom, petting Molly’s head. “But, yeah . . . he’s still being a meanie head!” She shot him a teasing look which he pretended to ignore.

What a playful kitty Molly proved to be! Chasing and batting things around. Trying to catch the red light of Dad’s laser pointer—which we snuck off his desk. Had a bunch of fun playing tag and hide and seek with her. She could leap up to cuff us and be off in a flash. We ran over the top of things to get away from her. But she could run over the top of things and run under things, both to catch us and get away from us . . . not fair! She even learned to catch and retrieve a small Frisbee! I thought Dad would lighten up seeing her do that.

But . . . nope.

It didn’t help her cause when she’d bat the toilet paper off the roll, or hop on the counter to see what we were doing. See if there were any goodies in it for her. She climbed the living room drapes only once. Mom caught her doing it. Good thing. Dad would’ve tossed her out the door in a heartbeat. Probably would’ve forbidden her back into the house.

Mom just plucked her off the drapes, dropped her onto the floor, and pointed a reproving finger at her. “NO! You hear me! NO!” And that was that.

Molly didn’t take offense at it. Probably because Mom was her favorite. Yet, she continued her quest to get Dad on her side as well. Futile pursuit . . .

One day, Molly showed up at the school. How she knew where we’d be, and what time we’d be getting out, who knows. That she could’ve gotten lost or hit by a car, we didn’t consider. We simply loved owning a cat who acted like a dog.

Dad scoffed when we voiced it that night watching TV. “If I wanted a dog, I’d get a dog! Little bitty thing like that—it’s like owning a Chihuahua!”

“Except she’s not yappy . . .” Mom pointed out. “She’s perfect!” She petted Molly, gazing at her with deep affection. “Aren’t you?” Molly butted her hand. “Yeah, you are!” She got up from the couch. “I’m going to bed. Not feeling the best.”

“I thought you were looking kinda green,” said Dad, glancing her way with concern. “I’ll be up in a few, Dayl. Just want to finish this episode of MASH.”

He had a ritual of watching a couple episodes before bed. That she was going off first was unusual. Definitely, she had to be sick. Acknowledging his remark, she kissed us girls goodnight and went out. Molly trotted off after her. Gave Dad a look like he ought to be coming right now too!

 “Not sleeping with that cat, Dayl!” He looked at us girls. “You should be in bed yourselves. Past your bedtime!”

We wanted to argue, but followed Mom up. And sometime later, Dad tossed Molly out of their bedroom, and she came in with us.

Next morning, Dad leaned in at our door and roused us. “Morning, girls! Your mother’s still feeling bad. Lunch money’s on the table. Make sure you make it to school on time. I've gotta run. Love yas!”

“Love you too!” we chorused drowsily.

Curled up so cozily with Molly laying on my ribs, I didn’t want to get up. Jeana plucked her off me, saying, “Let’s go check on Mom.”

We crept in quietly. Molly, thrilled to be let into forbidden territory, ran and leapt upon the bed, and made herself comfy on top of Mom's stomach. Mom dropped a hand on her, saying in a weary tone, “You girls gonna be okay on your own today?”

“We’ll be fine, Momma,” Jeana assured her. “You gonna be okay all alone?”

Mom smiled faintly. “Yeah. I’m good. I have Molly.”

Jeana looked doubtful, but said, “Okay. We’ll have breakfast up here, okay? Do you want anything?”

“No, but thanks for asking. . . . or maybe some juice . . .”

We got our Martian Malt Balls ready quickly. Jeana poured two glasses of juice—one orange, one apple for Mom and carried it all up on a tray. Mom thanked us, but didn’t touch either glass. Jeana seemed really concerned about her. Her concern made me worried too.

“I could stay with you,” she finally ventured when Mom said it was time for us to go.

“I’ll be fine. Give me a hug and go on. Don’t worry.”

“I’m coming home for lunch!” Jeana informed me as we went up the street. “I just wanna be sure.”

I glanced at her curiously. “What you mean, Jeana?”

“That Momma’s okay. I wanna be sure.”

“Oh. Can I come too?”

“Sure. I’ll wait for you by the apple tree in front of the school.”

“Okay!” 

We parted ways on the playground and met up with our respective friends. Me with the fourth graders and she with her sixth grade friends.

It was hard to concentrate. All I thought about was meeting Jeana at lunchtime. When it came time to line up for lunch, I told Miss Sparrow I was going home to eat.

“You have a note from your parents?”

“No.”

“Then you must eat in the cafeteria. Get in line, Miss Carter.”

I'd no idea what I was going to do, but I knew I wasn’t going down to the cafeteria. Maybe I could go to the girls’ restroom and sneak out from there.

Or maybe Miss Sparrow’s attention would be distracted . . .

“Boys! Boys! Stop that this instant!” She hurried down the line to break up whatever was going on between Bruce and Kenny.

That was my chance.

I took it after a little hesitation. Hearing Miss Sparrow’s sharp voice ordering me back, I broke into a run, took the stairs to the front door two at a time, and never looked back.

Jeana waited by the apple tree on the corner of the school’s front yard. She called impatiently, “Neena! Neena, come on! What took you?”

“I didn’t have a note from home. Hadda sneak out. But she saw me.” I cast a glance toward the building, but no one was there.

“Oh. Miss Cassill didn’t give me a hard time about that. She’s the best! Come on, let’s run!”

 We'd gone half a block when we saw her running up the street toward us. “What the heck? Molly! How did she know we’d be coming home now?”

“Yeah, that’s crazy, right, Jeana?”

What was crazier was the way she acted when we met up with her. She hiked herself up on her hind legs, and jumped against ours, and then she turned and ran back toward home. Stopped and turned to make sure we were following.

“Oh, no . . .” Jeana breathed. And broke into a gallop. “Hurry, Neena!”

“Wait!” I cried after her. She repeated what she’d just said and kept going. I hurried as fast as my shorter legs would let me. Crossed the yard just as Jeana entered the house. Heard her anguished, “Mom! Mom! Mom, are you all right?”

I dashed in and pulled up short. There was Mom on the dining room floor. Molly trotted over and nudged her hand. Then came to butt her face with Mom’s gently. She looked up at us as if to say, “Something’s wrong. Do something!” Then she lay down with Mom, rubbing her face with her own from time to time as if to reassure her.

Not that Mom noticed, her being out cold and all.

“Wh-what we gonna do, Jeana? Is she gonna be all right? Will she die?” At that, I started to cry. I was already shaking. My legs gave out and I slumped to the floor. “Momma . . . Momma, wake up! Mom-ma!”

“Neena, don’t cry, Neena. Just sit with her. I’m calling 911.”

But I couldn’t calm my tears. I sat holding my mom’s hand, watching her face for some sign of life. Her hand was warm, but I didn’t know that was a good sign. All I knew was my Mom was lying so still and silent on our dining room floor, instead of up and greeting us with happy pleasure.

Jeana called 911 on the home phone, and while they stayed on the line with us, she called Dad on Mom’s cell phone. That call was quick. He was on his way. And he got home just as the ambulance got there. They got Mom on the stretcher thing, and Molly hopped up with her. One of the EMT guys put her down, but she just jumped up there again. As often as they’d put her down, she hopped back up. Finally, Dad caught her and handed her to me. She struggled in my arms and slipped away, dodging Dad, and running after Mom.

The younger of the EMTs got hold of Molly once they had Mom inside and gave her to Dad. “Wow, I’ve never seen such devotion in a cat before. That’s incredible! They say animals can sense things going on with their owners, though. She knows something’s not right!”

“I’ll be right behind you!” Dad told him as he accepted Molly from him. He watched them shut the doors and then looked down at Molly. In an odd voice he said, “That must’ve been why she was acting so funny last night. And . . . I didn’t get it. Just thought she was being a little turkey, and I tossed her out.”

He petted her, actually petted her, and then gave her to Jeana. “Look, I’m going to call the school and tell ‘em what’s going on. I don’t want you two home alone later. So, put Molly in the house and get in the car. Taking you with me.”

Put Molly in the house? Was he feeling all right? Exchanging a look with me, Jeana did as she was told, and off we went. Me still blubbering . . .

The wait seemed unbearably long. We girls had to wait in the small waiting room. We huddled on one of the loveseats, holding each other for comfort. Jeana cried too, but silently. Finally, Dad came out of the exam room and gathered us in his arms. His eyes were wet, but he was composed.

“Not sure what’s wrong with her . . . She has a high fever, and she hit her head hard when she fell . . . probably had a dizzy spell . . . They’re doing more tests. I’d like to stay with her, but I gotta get you guys home. We’ll come back tomorrow. They’ll probably let you in with me.”

So, forlornly, we headed out. And stopped dead in the doorway. There at it, sat Molly.

“Goodnight Charley! How did she know we were here?” uttered Dad, floored.

Jeana eyed her with fascination. “How did she get out of the house?”

“She wants Momma,” I stated, tearfully. “She wants her now. Me too!”

Dad picked her up. “Can’t happen, Mol. Come on, girls.”

 Since we hadn’t time for lunch, Dad took us to eat at Tony’s Drive-up. That cheered me a little. I let Molly have bits of my hot dog, and Dad didn’t even say anything. Later, he let us stay up a while longer than he should have, and when Molly chose to follow him into the bedroom, he let her in. Later, when I got up to use the bathroom, I peeked into his room. There was Molly, curled up on his ribs while he snored gently on his side.

There was no change in Mom next morning. Which was good, they said. No change was better than her being worse off than before. And, just like the day before, there was Molly waiting for us at the door. People thought it was cute, and one person tried to pick her up as we came out. She escaped his hold and fled to us, standing on her hind legs to be picked up. I picked her up, and she looked me over carefully, trying to figure out my mood. Then, she climbed on my shoulders and stared off toward the building, looking for Mom.

“Sorry, Mol. She’s not coming home yet.”

Next day, the doctors said Mom was looking better. Still not awake, but her fever had broken. They were hopeful that she’d be okay if she were to wake up soon. We had to be happy with that.

And as she had been both days before, Molly was waiting for us outside.

“You’re a little Houdini, Mol. I’m long past trying to figure out how you know where to find us, but I gotta find how you’re getting out!” He stared at her thoughtfully, stoking his chin. “I wonder . . .”

“What? What, Dad?”

“You thinking what I think you are,” asked Jeana, quick to pick up his vibe. “’Cause if you are—how are we doing it?”

 “Yeah, that’s the thing.” He pondered the matter a few seconds more then strode for the car and took out the smallest of the blankets we kept in the trunk for emergencies. He had Jeana hold the blanket open and taking Molly from me, he wrapped her neatly in it. Our new 'baby sister'. “Okay, act natural. Let’s go!”

This was kind of hard for me, because I wanted to giggle when we passed anyone in the corridor. The ride in the elevator was the scariest. People wanted to peek at the ‘baby’. Dad held her away from them, saying smilingly, “I just got her to sleep!”

We barely reached Mom’s room when Molly escaped both the blanket and Dad’s hold. She scampered in and from practically across the room, leaped upon the bed. Settling on top of Mom, she butt her face against Mom's gently and purred.

One of the nurses walking by, looked in. “Oh, you’re back! Oh . . . what’s going on here? I’m pretty sure this isn't permitted!”

“Look!” I cried, pointing at Mom and hopping up and down joyfully. “She’s petting Molly!”

“Yes!” uttered Jeana, pulling her arm back in triumph.

“What’s all the fuss?” Mom’s voice was a little hoarse. “What’s going on?”

“You’re awake. That’s what’s going on!” said Dad, lowering the rail of the bed, and sitting down next to her. He leaned to kiss her. And then he kissed Molly’s head! Really, he did! “And, I think we have Molly to thank for it! Right, Mol?”

Molly stood up on Mom and hiked herself up to put her paws on Dad’s shoulder, rubbed her face against his. He laughed. “I guess that’s a yes!”

“I think she’s saying we have both of you to thank for it! You brought her in, Dad!”

“True that!”

Molly purred loudly.

Mom pet Molly and reached for Dad’s hand. Jeana beamed happily. Me . . .

I blubbered happy tears my Mom was gonna be all okay!