Patriot's Day

Patriots Day

By Diane Green

Alphonse is a meticulously groomed (by himself) cat. He is a regular-sized house cat with a stately black and white furry body, a tuxedo cat. Moses Harrison, innkeeper at The Minutemen's Inn in Revere, Massachusetts, noticed that after an elderly couple checked in for a week, Alphonse’s behavior changed.

Mr. and Mrs. Caleb Shrewsbury were harmless seventy-something-year-olds. The effects of age slightly impaired both, but their minds popped with brilliant moments of recall. They had in their possession a huge, mature Maine Coon cat named Larry.

Larry was in charge of the Shrewsbury family. He'd arrived as a kitten, a very large kitten. Florence Shrewsbury's motherly instincts came into play. She immediately cleaned Larry of fleas, fed him fine albacore tuna generously, and made a bed of an heirloom cotton quilt for him.

Caleb, who became Larry's New Papa, objected strenuously, "We don't need that animal in our house. Cats have no discipline, and they mark their territory with foul-smelling pee. Florence, he goes!"

Florence let Caleb think he ruled their home life, but it was only a ruse. "Caleb, there is no way I'm going to turn this precious kitten out in the wilderness." Larry knew from the tone of Florence's voice that he'd found a comfortable place to call home.

Larry carefully and gradually made his presence as a necessity in the small Shrewsbury home. He started by sitting on Florence's lap whenever she placed herself in her favorite recliner, but as he grew, and he did grow, Caleb and Larry's animosity grew as well.

Caleb protested to deaf ears regularly. "That animal weighs twenty-three pounds, stands fifteen inches high at his shoulders, and is three feet long. I know, the vet told me after giving me an outrageous bill of $300 for Larry's grooming!"

"Now don't you fret, dear; Larry loves you," Florence replied. She repeated this on every occasion that Caleb protested.

"The heck he does," Caleb muttered.

The Shrewsbury’s received an invitation to a grandchild's wedding in Revere, Massachusetts. The wedding was to be held on April 19th, Patriots' Day, at the Brookfield Wedding Chapel. A room was reserved for them nearby at The Minutemen's Inn.

Caleb and Florence checked in with two pull-along suitcases, presumably one for each. They were advised of the Inn's rules: “No pets allowed; if discovered, a fine will ensue."

After settling into their room, the Paul Revere suite, Florence began casing the Inn's entrances and exits. She found a secluded door on the windward side of the building.

Caleb refused to be dragged along in this conspiracy, whispering under his breath, "I swear Florence, if you sneak Larry into our room, he'll be discovered, and we'll be escorted out and fined, too."

"Don't think such bad thoughts," his wife said to Caleb, who threw up his arms and settled down for a nap in the deliciously comfortable four-poster bed.

Florence returned to the parking lot. They parked their old Chevy in the furthest corner of The Minutemen's Inn property. Larry waited for his mistress like royalty.

"In the box, Larry," Florence urged. "This place will be our home for a few days." She struggled to maneuver and entice Larry into his 'concealing box,' fitted with luggage wheels under it so she could move the heavy load. Finally, Florence and Larry were ready. Florence stealthily brought her cat to the Paul Revere suite, where Larry received his tasty, albacore tuna fish lunch.

Having settled beside Moses on a front desk corner, Alphonse felt safe. Brewster noticed Alphonse's discomfort after arranging paperwork behind the desk. "What's wrong with Alphonse, Uncle Moses? I've never seen him walk across the top of the desk or on furniture. He won't let his paws touch the floor like he doesn't want to leave his scent there."

Brewster lifted Alphonse, whose 'person' Brewster was, onto the floor. Alphonse objected and jumped back on top of a table.

"Put him out. He'll probably be happier digging up my garden," Moses appreciated Alphonse's unique ability to pull Nepeta cataria weeds from the vegetable garden without harming the other plants. "I give Alphonse special treats when he weeds for me."

"I know," Brewster swept Alphonse in her arms again. "I have never seen where he puts the dead weeds. Have you?"

"Don't know, don't care,"

Moses loaded the information about the Shrewsbury couple into his laptop.

It was spring in the Bay State. The April 19th holiday was a day away. "Patriot's Day" is an honored holiday in Massachusetts. No, it has nothing to do with the football team: it is celebrated in remembrance of that date in 1775, when the "shot heard round the world" was fired, marking the start of the American Revolution.

The ghost of Keziah Adams, former innkeeper of The Minutemen's Inn, was restless and just as uncomfortable as Alphonse. Moses called to her, sensing her nearness, "Keziah, how are our friends celebrating this year?" Keziah's friends, occupants of the Inn since its conversion from a colonial farmhouse in the eighteenth century, were an active group of ghostly minutemen. Their Leader, chosen by his peers to lead, commanded a troop of six men. To the minutemen, April 19th was the anniversary of the most important event of their lives as mortals. Preparations had been going on for days.

"Oh, nothing spectacular. Our minutemen will probably shoot off a few muskets, scare the birds." Keziah answered.

Mrs. Shrewsbury believed she had successfully brought Larry with them into their room. "See Caleb, he's no bother to anyone.

However, Alphonse was acutely aware of Larry's presence. Alphonse was terrified of his giant adversary. He attempted to appease Larry, whom he had never met whisker-to-whisker, by pushing small gifts under the suite door. His tribute included tidbits of pot roast, fishy-smelling cat treats, and tiny parts of Nepeta cataria, known as catnip.

Larry swiftly snatched them.

The Shrewsbury couple assembled in a nearby church, thrilled to attend a Patriot's Day wedding ceremony. A modest affair with close friends and family as guests, the service was planned to begin at noon and run indefinitely into the evening.

The Minutemen's Inn was alive and active on April 19th. The minutemen gathered in the barn's storage room, adjusting and loading their muskets. Moses was conversing with guests in the parlor. Sarah was preparing ingredients for her Yankee Pot Roast. Brewster was changing linens and towels in the upstairs rooms. The Shrewsbury's, dressed in their 'wedding guest' best, were about to leave for the wedding venue.

Today, Alphonse was at a loss for gift ideas for Larry. Brewster was very conscientious in her duties; no special treats were found in corners; no pot roast scraps fell to the floor in the kitchen. He had a larger-than-usual amount of catnip. That would have to do.

A group of fifteen tourists entered the Inn's dining room for breakfast. Sarah and Brewster had prepared the ingredients for blueberry pancakes. The blueberries, preserved last summer, were the size of marbles, and a rich purple juice spilled out of the burst ones.

Alphonse didn't like crowds of people who always wanted to pet him and pick him up. He went to his private perch on the roof near the parlor's chimney. It was a special place, but it was only good on a warm day in spring when Moses lit no fire in the fireplace.

Then, all chaos broke out.

Musket fire went off behind the Inn, wounding a crow who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. The wounded crow was adeptly caught by Alphonse, who shoved the struggling bird down the chimney. He'd hoped this gift would suffice along with the catnip. If Alphonse was lucky, Larry might receive his tribute. The crow exited the fireplace and fluttered through the parlor, heading erratically toward the dining room.

Larry, working the door lock on the Paul Revere suite, had managed to free himself and sauntered toward the parlor. The crow screeched, darting haphazardly around the Inn.

Larry attacked. The crow was trapped in his mouth as he attempted to return to his room.

Keziah summoned the minutemen, muskets by their sides, to follow Larry. "A bobcat, a big, wild, menacing creature," Keziah was hysterical. Larry was mistaken for a dangerous animal. The minutemen immediately responded to Keziah's shouts. Unfortunately, or fortunately, in Larry's case, the muskets were not very accurate. The practice was to fire in volleys.

Larry knew he was in trouble. He dropped the wounded crow and let out a roaring hiss.

The Leader of the minutemen leveled his musket and fired at Larry.

Larry howled as the musket ball tore off the tip of his left ear, his prized, distinguished Maine Coon cat ear. Ghostly musket balls while issuing a frightening pop in sensitive ears, do no real damage in contemporary settings, unless the target deserves a sting or a wounded ear.

The diners, terrified by the noise and the crow's desperate flight stood in the corners of the dining room to watch the frantic scene. Sarah Harrison’s logical explanations were readily accepted.

The troops withdrew, and the diners settled down to blueberry pancakes. Two of the ladies fainted, surmising they'd seen ghosts, several ghosts, but they thought nothing more of it when offered a double stack of the delicious pancakes.

Larry found his way back to the Shrewsbury room. Crouching stealthily, he retraced his steps, fearful that Alphonse might give his whereabouts away. He found sanctuary under the four-poster bed and used his paw to attend to his wounded ear.

Moses tried to prevent further mayhem. To his relief, Corliss Bowdoin, his devoted friend, arrived.

"What happened here? I saw a commotion outside."

Breathlessly, Moses responded, "Disaster, help, Corliss, assure the tourists are safe."

"And won't sue you," Corliss finished the sentence.

Using his legal skills, Corliss took the names and testimonies of several ladies who swore they'd seen more than one ghost.

Alphonse, held tightly by Brewster, found solace in her arms.

Late in the evening, the Shrewsbury’s returned to their suite. Florence, having partaken her share, plus, of wedding toasts, and Caleb, designated driver, entirely sober, heard that there had been an awful ruckus in their absence. They entered the Paul Revere suite. Florence let out a blood-curdling scream when she saw her beloved Larry, an ear missing, black feathers scattered about the room. Her prize cat was hidding under the four-poster bed.

Moses rushed to the suite, having figured out, with the assistance of Alphonse and Brewster, to whom the giant cat belonged. Corliss was not far behind. Both reviewed the damage and the cost of the meals for the tourists and made a quick estimate of the fine.

Moses angrily declared, "You've broken the rules of this Inn! Your cat must be removed immediately, and you must leave as well. There will be a large fine charged to your credit card!"

Sarah Harrison mitigated as well as possible with Brewster's help. If Brewster was allowed to leash Larry in the barn overnight, the couple would be allowed to stay until morning.

Caleb accepted the offer and the fine. Florence Shrewsbury was seething with rage, "My Larry suffered a disfiguring wound. I shall not let this rest, Caleb! We'll hire a lawyer to investigate and press charges against the Inn."

"Isn't the shoe on the wrong foot?" Caleb intended to assert himself and control his wife.

"Absolutely not!" Florence declared.

By mid-morning, the Shrewsbury's were about to leave; Caleb apologizing, Florence pouting, and Larry subdued, feeling the restraint of a leash, something he'd never known.

Florence, Caleb, and Larry were greeted in the parking lot by Corliss Bowdoin, who presented himself as the County Attorney.

Florence pushed Caleb out of the way and began to release her outrage on Corliss, "I've heard that this establishment is haunted, and the ghosts maimed my cat. I want to sue for the injury perpetrated on poor Larry."

The woman was shaking with fury.

Guessing that a good, informative conversation would finish the matter, Corliss gave Florence a few minutes to collect herself before responding, "Are you familiar with the Ghost-buster's Ruling from a few years ago?"

"No," Florence hesitated.

Corliss cleared his throat and summoned his most legalistic language, "In 1991, the case of Stambovsky v. Ackley was adjudicated. The New York Supreme Court ruled that the sellers of the Ackley property must only reveal a haunted reputation to potential buyers. Presumably, a loss would be incurred upon selling such a property. A very opposite result occurred as potential buyers of the Ackley home more than doubled the asking price, eager to experience a ghostly encounter.”

Caleb was also fired up: "Florence, stop! You are way out of line! I'm taking over here. Larry has caused far more trouble and expense than he is worth. I know of a place that will be happy to have his hunting skills."

Florence Shrewsbury reversed her intentions and opened the door of the Malibu, slid into the seat, and fastened her seatbelt for a quiet ride home.

Out of remorse, Caleb Shrewsbury paid a substantial amount to The Minutemen's Inn.

Larry's ear healed; he no longer lives a life of privilege as master of the Shrewsbury family, but resides with a farmer who needed a good 'mouser' for his barn.