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Nipple or coupler? Let's fight about it!

Fri, 04 Aug 2006 14:06:15 -0500

Nipple or coupler? Let's fight about it!

I was spending an average day on the cube farm with my fellow industrial-supply catalog indexers as I worked on categorizing fire hose fittings. The object of indexing items for this particular catalog was to use as many terms as possible to describe an item, while still maintaining the integrity of what each item is. And, we were to clean up the existing index to get rid of extraneous descriptors.

At that hour, I was working on the page featuring brass nipples for hoses. It was indexed as "Nipples, Fire Hose" and "Fire Hose Fittings," among other terms, as well as "Fire Hose Couplers." Well, I could plainly see that it was a nipple and not a coupler, which as anyone knows, a nipple is a male part of a fitting and a coupler, by definition, consists of a male and female part.

I went to verify this with my hardware guru of a co-worker, but he disagreed. Then, another cube-mate got in on the discussion, telling him that she checked this very subject out already with "the group upstairs," and what I was saying was correct.

Before I knew it, the two of them were going at it full on, so I was relieved to be out of the discussion because I just couldn't bring myself to say "nipple" anymore in the office. Further, that interchange solidified my decision to look elsewhere for employment.

Foul Territory (Another View of Wrigley Field)

Sat, 24 Jun 2006 12:25:22 -0500

Chapter One ~ At First...

More than anything else in the world, Emma wanted a cat. She lived for cats. She dreamed about cats. When she woke up in the morning, the first thing she saw was her "Cat of the Day" calendar. The walls of her purple colored bedroom were covered with cat (and soccer) posters. Most of the books in her bookcase were stories about the adventures of cats and their companions.

Oddly enough, a perfectly good cat lived in her house. Some people would even say that this cat was her big sister. Mrs. Carlie-Lou Goldeneye Road Warrior Schmenkmen (Carlie, Carlie Lou, or just plain Lou for short), had lived with Emma's Mom and Dad for two years before Emma was born. Emma was eight. Her little sister Amelia was six. Carlie was ten. She barely remembered her life as a kitten.

More than anything else in the world, Carlie wanted some peace and quiet. When she was a kitten, an angry man with a black beard had taken her away from her mother, stuck her in a box and then put the box in a dumpster near a shopping center. Another man, a nicer one with curly red hair and a green flannel shirt, rescued her when she escaped from the box. He took her home and then he gave her to the people she lived with now.

For what seemed like a long time to Carlie, she had enjoyed her new family's company. She slept on their bed, dozed in the sunbeams of their small city apartment. She loved to gaze dreamily out the windows watching the world pass by. At night, she dreamed of her mother and her brothers and sisters.

Then one day, some loud men came into the apartment and they carried everything off. The man of the house came and took her away. They rode in the car for a long time and then he brought her to a new house. The new house was a lot bigger and had some interesting smells. But it wasn't where she used to live. And sometimes that made her sad.

As the boxes were unpacked and the furniture moved around, life settled down. Carlie decided that she liked her new home. There weren't as many people to look at from the big picture windows in the front of the house, but she enjoyed watching the squirrels and birds. At the back of the house was a cozy family room with six big windows looking out over the back yard. Right outside one of the windows was an old elm tree and the woman attached a bird feeder to it. Carlie soon divided her days between sitting on the sofa back in the front of the house and looking out the big picture window, and sitting on the TV hutch and watching the bird feeder from the back.

The lady of the house went away for a few days and came back with a baby girl. This was a surprise. But Carlie thought the baby was interesting. She was pink and soft and made little mewling noises. She seemed like a hairless kitten and Carlie thought it might be fun to have a sister again.

Carlie’s family began to have a lot of visitors. They wandered all over the house and constantly startled Carlie. She became jumpy and nervous. Many of the guests didn’t like cats. Some were allergic and complained about her shedding. They pointed to Carlie and said things like:

"Aren't you worried about the cat jumping in the crib?"

Or they whispered loudly:

“Rebecca’s cat bit the baby and his arm swelled up like a melon. They had to go to the emergency room!”

Cats can understand people perfectly well and Carlie was insulted. She thought the crib looked cozy, but she didn't feel like jumping up in it. The baby's smell was interesting - a mixture of food, the lady, the man and something else that was just this side of yucky - but when she thought about those little hands grasping at her tail, she shuddered. No, as far as Carlie was concerned, the baby’s crib was something she would steer clear of.

One day, after watching some robins feed their babies in a nest in the pine tree by the window in the mom and dad's room, Carlie decided to go and watch the mom feed the baby. She jumped down from the wardrobe and strolled down the hall into the nursery. The mom was sitting in a wooden rocking chair holding the baby close. There were dark circles under her eyes and her hair hung limp at her neck. A visitor was sitting in a chair next to the mom. She looked stern and hard eyed. Carlie sat down on the blue rug in the middle of the nursery and started washing herself.

"What are you going to do about her?" the woman asked the mom in a loud and accusing voice.

"Do what about who," asked the mom, sounding a little confused.

"That cat," the woman said, and she pointed an accusing finger at Carlie. "Your cat,” She repeated loudly. Carlie jumped and looked up at the woman with wide eyes. , “Aren't you afraid she might claw the baby. I've heard about that. She's a danger."

Carlie didn’t wait to hear what the mom said in reply. She got up and ran out of the room.

It was clear to Carlie that her life had taken a turn. And it continued to change as it became clear that the baby was not going to go away any time soon.

Carlie’s cozy nights spent nestled between the man and woman on their big bed were interrupted by cries from the baby. Whenever the man or woman jumped out of bed, the covers were flung back over Carlie, burying her. If she followed them into the baby’s nursery, she often got trampled underfoot while one of the parents blundered for the light switch or groped for the rocking chair in the dark.

One night, Carlie followed the man into the nursery and watched as he soothed the baby, changed her diaper and then, after getting her bottle ready, sat down in the rocking chair to feed her. Carlie forgot her uneasiness about being in the room (there were no visitors that day) and came in for a closer look. The man didn’t seem to see her. As she passed behind the rocker, the runner came down on her tail and made her scream in pain. The man shot out of the chair, and the baby, startled, began to cry. Carlie curled up in on herself in the corner as the man, still bleary eyed, glared at her.

“Carlie-Lou,” he growled, “It’s too darn early in the morning for this.” And he sat back down and didn’t even ask her if she was OK.

Chapter 2 ~ Old Grey

It didn't take long for the baby to grow up. She recognized Carlie for what she was. Carlie spent the next two years of her life in a blur of running for the highest place in the house that she could find. One moment she was sound asleep in her favorite sunny spot. The next moment, Carlie was running for her life with a little baby chasing her crying, “Kitty, Kitty!” The only safe place she could find was the top of the china hutch. She wondered what would happen if she never came down. Would her family would miss her?

Two and a half years after the baby arrived, the mom went away again. When she came back, there was another baby! The first child, now a toddler who Carlie learned was named Emma would run to the baby, hug her, point at Carlie and say loudly "Kitty!" This made Carlie very nervous. Would this new baby soon be up and chasing her about the house?

The new baby was named Amelia. Like her sister, she didn't move around much, at first. Carlie could stay in the same room as her without fearing that she would be chased after. But soon, Amelia learned to crawl and then she figured out how to walk. She soon joined Emma in chasing after her cat. Carlie thought she would never live the quiet life again.

Many people think that cats aren’t very friendly. They think that they’d rather be alone. They’re wrong. Cat’s are very social and enjoy the company of other cats and people. Whenever her family would go away for a long time, Carlie would go to her Vet and stay with other cats. Some of the cats were in for treatments. Others also had families that were on vacation. Carlie enjoyed these times away from home. As the only cat in the family, it was a chance for her to be among her own kind. All the cats loved to tell stories of their lives with their families. Carlie found a ready audience for her tales of a noisy life with two young girls and she soon made many friends.

Her best friend was the vet’s cat, Jake. He used to live alone on the street but the vet had taken him in. She loved to hear his tales of his adventures on the street and he often coached her in new ways to escape from the girls back at her home.

Carlie was also fond of a little silver tabby named Amanda. She lived in a house with four older girls and Carlie was interested to learn that her girls would some day be as big as her parents. She was enthralled with Amanda’s stories of things she would one day observe in her house like homework, skateboards, soccer balls, lacrosse sticks, loud music and guinea pigs.

Carlie already knew about soccer and she was pretty sure she never wanted to see a lacrosse stick. Homework sounded like fun to her if she could sneak in and hide the pens. Her family already knew her opinions of loud music, but she was sure that someday she would like to meet a guinea pig.

One of Carlie’s favorite cats to see at the vet’s was an old grey tom tabby. He was big and shaggy, with raggedy battle scarred ears and deep yellow eyes. His voice was low and sad and when he ate, he purred like the dump trucks that had cruised Carlie’s street last year when a new house was being built.

The old tabby came from a huge family that often traveled so he was a frequent guest at the vet’s and Carlie was almost always sure to see him when she came in for her more infrequent visits. This cat’s family was so busy that they had never gotten around to giving him a name so they simply called him “Old Grey.” Like so many other things in his life, Old Grey simply seemed to accept this.

One night, while Carlie was visiting, she brought up the topic of the girls in her house and how hard it was getting to escape their attentions.

“You're right" Old Grey agreed sadly. "Small children are hard. They're so fast and you never know what they will do next!” He shook his ragged ears, yawned and continued, "My family brought home six children."

"Six!" several other cats in the room cried in horror. "The noise," a Rag Doll moaned. "The loud stomping," shivered a little Persian in the corner cage.

Carlie looked out of her cage. She hunched down, made a nervous purr and wondered if she wanted to hear anymore. But she knew his story well and loved to see the reactions of the cats who had never heard it before. She sat up, yawned, stretched, and nipped at her hind paw.

"After the fourth child - an immense and very grubby boy, I thought it couldn't get any worse, " Old Grey continued in a dreamy voice.

"Boys!" gasped a Siamese in an upper cage. Why were those Siamese always in the upper cages, Carlie wondered.

"But then," he continued on, "They brought home a puppy. For Christmas!"

The room was filled mostly with new visitors to the Vet's. Upon hearing this outrage, it burst into an uproar. Hissing, wailing, spitting. Claws were sharpened, backs arched, teeth bared.

Carlie had seen dogs from the front windows of her house, but she had never really met a dog. Even so, she knew that to a cat, there was no other animal in the world lower than a dog. Even a rabbit was considered preferable company!

Dogs, even small ones, were loud, smelly and obnoxious. Most people had to keep them on leashes. Dogs actually listened, most of the time, to what their people told them. Cats knew that was silly.

Cats that had dogs in their family were quick to admit that you could usually count on it to get you out of a jamb with another dog. But the work you had to do to get them to a point where their presence in the house was tolerable! It was a terrible breach of trust when your human family brought home a dog. Even worse when that dog was (and it usually was!) a puppy. And for Christmas!

After the noise died down a little, " Carlie piped in. "Well you know the little girls in my house. They're really into cats now," She said, in a low voice. "Really, really, into cats," she added for emphasis.

"Oh you poor thing, " wailed the Siamese. "Do they try to dress you up?"

"Shameful, " hissed a toothless old calico from a lower cage.

"They want to, " Carlie said, warming to the attention of her audience. "They try to all the time. They had a make-up kit out once. But I double backed on them, did a flip and they crashed into a wall and got lipstick all over the baseboard. And just last week they tried to get me in a clown wig and a soccer uniform. But I don't let them catch me. Lately I’ve been jumping up on the china hutch - the mom really hates that and she screams so loud! I found a neat hiding place in the basement and sometimes I jump out at them, bat their legs, and then run away."

"Good for you!" said Jake as he strolled into the room "Just like we talked about last time."

He walked up to Carlie’s cage and pressed his face up to the bars, their whiskers touching.

“You’re really coming along nicely.” he added softly.

Chapter 3 ~ Birthday Money

The Mom and Dad in Carlie’s family read all the time. Some nights they would sit up and read things to each other that they found interesting. One night, Carlie was sitting on the dresser in the Mom and Dad’s room grooming her paws when she heard the Dad talk about the new book he had just started to read.

This book interested Carlie because it was an adventure story about cats. It said that the life of a cat was like the life of a long river. The water starts high up in the hills as a young stream, the book said. There, started by clouds and rain, the stream scampers down the slopes and frisks among the boulders. It’s attention is frequently diverted to other interesting pursuits before it goes back to it’s original course.

As the stream comes out of the hills, it widens, get closer to it’s middle age. The stream becomes a river. It’s banks are wider, the water slower, but more powerful and controlled. It changes course more slowly because it knows there is no reason to quickly change direction. It will get where it wants to and there is nothing wrong with spending some time going in one direction for awhile.

Eventually the river will reach it’s old age and flow into the sea where it’s knowledge will join that of all the other rivers that flow into it. But that is for later.

“That’s absolutely the worst metaphor I ever heard,” the Mom said and she snapped off her book light, flipped on her side and went to sleep.

Carlie thought it was the most beautiful thing she had ever heard and purred her agreement. Carlie’s life had reached her middle age.. She was more used to her larger family now and there were times when she didn’t mind the girls chasing after her.

The girls were getting bigger but at least they weren't as noisy. Carlie was feeling some of her age, though.. Her teeth wearing down. It was harder to jump up onto the china hutch. Once she had to try three different times. Her long mornings spent watching the birds at the feeder would sometimes stretch into afternoons dozing in the same window.

One autumn afternoon, while grooming herself in front of Emma's long dressing mirror, she spotted some grey on her muzzle. She noticed that her dark chocolate tortoise shell coat had faded into a creamy coffee brown. She wondered if she might be shrinking.

"I could be someone's granny," she mused to herself. She arched her back at her reflection, showed her teeth and splayed her claws.

"Nope," she thought, "Not too scary."

Without warning, the door banged inwards with a loud "Whump." Carlie leapt back out of the way as Emma dashed into her room, dumped a load of books onto the floor with a crash, and disappeared into her closet. Clothes started to fly out of the closet in a colorful stream and land on the floor next to Carlie.

Seeing the cat out of the corner of her eye, Emma stopped and stood still like a statue. She peered out and said, with a broad, gap toothed smile, "Oh hi Carlie Lou! I didn't see you! How was your day?"

Instead of racing away, tail in the air, as she so often did, Carlie decided to flatten herself to the carpet. She turned her ears sideways in a mock show of disdain for the noisy young girl.

"You never see much of anything do you?" she thought to herself.

"Did you see any neat birds today?" Emma asked as she pulled on her soccer uniform.

"Well, actually, there was a pretty tasty looking nuthatch around noontime, " she thought.

"How about me," Emma asked with a mischievous grin, "Did you miss me?"

Carlie sat up, yawned and stretched. She was actually enjoying what was turning into a daily conversation with this girl.

The door burst in again with a loud thud and ricocheted off the wall. Carlie leapt straight up in the air, hissed, whirled and landed in a tangle of Emma's bedspread and bean bag cats.

"Oops, " said a high pitched voice from the door, "Sorry Carlie! I didn't see you."

Carlie shook herself vigorously and started to groom her whiskers. It was Emma's sister, Amelia. Amelia was usually a little quieter than Emma. This made Carlie nervous because it was often Amelia who could sneak up on her and pet her when she wasn't paying attention.

"Are you OK, Carlie?" Amelia asked in a concerned voice. She walked over to the bed and started to pet the upset cat. Carlie looked over at Emma who was taking it all in with a big grin on her face.

"I'd expect a little support from you, of all people," Carlie glared back at her.

"Girls, let's go." called a voice from downstairs. "You don't want to be late for practice."

"Ahhh," thought Carlie, as she licked her paws and purred. Some more quiet time coming right up.

"Is Carlie-Lou up there with you guys?" the mom called again.

"Yes, Mommy," the girls said in unison, and then fell to the floor with a fit of giggles.

"Lou," the mom shouted up the stairs, "Come get your dinner!"

"Thanks, Mom!" she thought.

"Peace, quiet, and a little supper, " she purred loudly, "Sometimes it's not so bad, here you know."

Carlie followed the girls to the landing. Amelia bounded down the steps, two at a time. Emma paused, halfway down and then turned back, coming up the stairs as quietly as she could. She looked through the railing at Carlie who was now sitting beside the railing licking her paws. Emma watched the cat and smiled. She reached down and tied her shoe lace. Looking back up at the cat , she blew it a kiss, turned and skipped down the stairs.

"Hey Mom," she called out, "Guess what I want to spend my birthday money on?"

Chapter 4 ~ Carlie’s Birthday Surprise

Carlie's birthday was sometime around the middle of October. She didn't know what day she had been born. She could hardly picture her mother anymore but she thought she might have been a yellow tabby named Goldie. She remembered that she was the oldest cat in the litter. There were five others in the litter but the memories of all but one of them had faded with time. The littlest was a sister named Mouse. Like Carlie, she had been a tortoise shell. Mouse was the youngest and Carlie remembered that Mouse had always followed her around the kitchen floor of their birth home trying to talk her into games and mischief. That name always made her laugh. Especially at this time of year when the field mice tried to move from the backyard shed into the house. Carlie caught most of them and left them next to the lady's bedside table as a present.

For the past few years, the girls had tried to have a birthday party for Carlie on October 15th. Carlie liked the catnip toys they gave her, but she thought their singing was too loud. It sounded like something the outside cats did when the moon got really big. She didn't see the point. She knew how old she was. It was really no one's else's business. But those catnip toys smelled nice and they were easier to catch than real mice.

This year, October 15th came on a Saturday. The Fall day was sunny and the trees around Carlie's house were a riot of gold, orange, red and yellow. It was warm and sunny. A perfect Indian summer day. The front windows in the living room were open a crack and Carlie dozed in front of one, smelling the trees, fresh cut grass and listening to the buzz as the bees gathering the last of the pollen from the Fall flowers. Carlie's family was out. She was trying to remember a bit of a song that Jake had taught everyone the last time she had stayed at the Vet's. Something about biting a beagle dog on the tail. She chuckled remembering how everyone had howled with laughter at the chorus - a rowdy verse about chasing the beagle into a pool of cold, deep water.

A car turned down the street and Carlie heard a high pitched voice cry, "There she is! She's sleeping in the window. Boy is she going to be surprised."

Carlie huffed into her whiskers and pulled herself up. "No, Emma," she thought, "I don't think you could ever surprise me. You're too noisy!"

She stretched, shook out her tail and walked into the kitchen. Lately she had begun greeting the family by the kitchen door whenever she heard the car pull in. Sometimes she could trick them into giving her an extra dinner.

"After all," she thought as she passed the refrigerator, "It is close to supper time. And it'd be really nice if they'd get around to cleaning out my litter.”

The garage door swung open and the man stepped into the house.

"Hey Carlie," he called cheerily. "Bet you want some dinner, eh? Come on let's go!"

Then he turned to the rest of the family in the garage and said quietly, but not so quietly that Carlie couldn't hear him, "Let me get her downstairs first."

Emma burst right past him and she was holding the Cat carrier in her hands.

The cat carrier! Carlie fluffed her tail and backed away. That was the last thing she wanted to get into. But then she stopped and sniffed the air. She smelled a cat, and it wasn't her. Why was there another cat smell coming from her carrier?

And then she saw it. There, huddled and shaking in the back of the carrier was another cat. A kitten. A little tortoise shell kitten. It looked out at her and mewed.

Carlie's eyes widened in shock. She hissed at the little cat, turned around, flattened her tummy to the ground, tucked back her ears and ran for the basement. She zoomed down the stairs three at a time, the air stirring around her and making the children's paintings on the wall rustle as she passed by. Ducking under the cat door, she leaped for the opening of the crawl space. She zoomed over the boxes in an aisle and headed for the farthest, darkest corner. This was her safest spot. The place she used to go when Emma and Amelia were smaller and noisier and she couldn't get to the china hutch.

A kitten! This was the very last thing that Carlie expected. How could this happen? This was worse than Old Grey's story about the puppy. This was a tortoiseshell kitten on her birthday!

Chapter 5 ~ Mouse

Emma's room was prepared for the new arrival. The woman at the shelter suggested keeping the new kitten separate from Carlie for a little while until the two animals were used to each other's smells. Emma had made a nest and feeding spot for the cat in her closet.

Now the whole family was gathered in her room looking at the little cat.

"You've got a nice setup for her, Emma, " said her Dad.

"Don't forget about feeding her in the morning, " her Mom added.

"Can she sleep with me?" asked Amelia.

Emma sat, cross legged in the closet as the little kitten jumped into her lap and settled down. She turned three times, tucked her tail over her nose and started the loudest purr anyone in the family had ever heard.

"I've got a name for her!", Emma exclaimed.

"Let's here it," said her Mom excitedly.

"I think she should be called Mouse," Emma proclaimed proudly.

The little cat opened her eyes wide and looked up at the girl's face.

"That is my name," she thought to herself. "I'm glad they figured it out!"

"Mouse," mused the Dad, "Mouse. That’s funny! I kind of like that!"

"Mouse and Carlie. Carlie and Mouse," sang Amelia.

"I hope they learn to get along," said the Mom. "Carlie Lou didn't look too happy when she saw what was in her cat carrier. We can't have this little kitten locked up her in your room forever, Emma."

"I know," said Emma sadly. " I should have waited to come in. This has got to work out. Poor Lou."

"Poor Carlie Lou, " said Amelia as she scratched Mouse's ears.

The Dad rose to his feet. "I should probably go find her," he said.

Chapter 6 ~ The Safest Place

The basement of Carlie’s house was divided in two. On one side was a playroom with an art table, some comfortable chairs and an old sofa. It was cozy and carpeted. Cool in the summers and warm in the winters, it sometimes smelled of must and old, dry earth. In the early evening, when the room began to go dark, Carlie like to go down into it and jump at her shadows.

A door at the bottom of the stairs led to the other half of the basement. Part of it was what she heard the Dad call “Carlie’s Room.” She thought this was funny, and that it should be called the “Dad and Carlie’s Room.” He kept a lot of tools, paints and equipment in there. Carlie’s’ food bowls and litter boxes were stored at the back of this little room, which was also the quietest and most private part of the house. The Mom or Emma usually fed her. The Dad took care of her litter boxes. Carlie required two.

But the most secret and quiet place for Carlie to hide was the crawl space, just above her feeding place. She had to jump up into a little doorway. Once inside, she could scurry around boxes and boxes of old clothes, books, camping equipment and other junk that the family had stored there. Carlie had found an old box of sweaters that had broken open and been forgotten about. When she really needed to get away from all the noise upstairs, she would come here and nest.

It was in this nest that she lay, curled up in a ball trying to shut out the picture of the little kitten in her cat carrier.

She heard the Dad open the door to the her room.

“Hey, Carlie-Lou,” he called.

“Go away, traitor,” Carlie thought. She heard him walking back towards her food bowls.

“Lou, “ he called, “Where are you sweetie? Want some dinner?”

“No,” she screamed silently. “And don’t you come looking for me! How could you?”

The man grunted as he pulled himself up to the crawl space. She saw a flashlight beam play amongst the boxes. He grunted again as he pulled himself over the ledge and into the small space under the house.

“Boy, Lou, you always make that look so easy.”

“You can’t flatter me this time, “ Carlie thought. “Go away!”

The man crawled along the rows of boxes and then played the flashlight beam onto Carlie’s face. She blinked into the bright light, but did not look away.

“Oh Lou,” he said softly, “Oh Carlie, I’m sorry you met the new kitty this way. We thought you’d like to have some company when we’re gone during the day. We thought you’d like a new friend.”

Carlie looked up at the man. She stood up and then turned her back on him, and sat down.

“I thought I had made two new friends, “ she thought. “I guess I was wrong.”

The Dad switched off the flashlight and quietly backed away.

Chapter 7 ~ Mouse Again

Over her head, Carlie could hear the house quieting down for the night. Her cat senses could tell that it was dark outside and the night-time animals, the racoons, possums, bats and skunks were out and making their rounds. She thought about all the long nights she had spent at the window facing the backyard and the woods beyond trying to catch glimpses of these strange and interesting creatures.

When the house was quiet enough, Carlie got up and with her whiskers on full alert for obstacles, moved between the rows of boxes to the lip of the opening to the crawl space. She stood silently listening as the hot water heater clicked on and house made it’s other night time noises. When she finally was sure that everyone in the house was asleep, she hopped down off of the ledge. Slowly she made her way up the stairs to the second floor.

Outside of Emma’s bedroom, Carlie paused. The door was closed.

“This is new,” Carlie thought. The door to Emma’s room was always open because Emma always hoped that Carlie would come in and sleep with her. Emma was often disappointed when she woke up in the mornings and didn’t see Carlie in her room. But in fact, Carlie often spent many nights in Emma’s room sleeping next to her bed or walking around and exploring.

She stood at the doorway and sniffed the new cat. The hair on the back of her neck stood up and her ears flattened. She didn’t like the smell of another cat in her house, but there was something familiar about it all the same.

“Mama?” came a small voice from the other side of the door. “Mama, is that you?”

Carlie was silent. She couldn’t think of a thing to say. The voice sounded small and a little scared. Something about it was familiar. Carlie reminded herself that this new cat was unwelcome in her house.

“Mama?” said the voice, a little more urgently. “Mama, can you come in and stay with me?”

“I am not your Mama,” said Carlie in a cold voice. “I am nobody’s Mama. I don’t want to be a Mama. This is my house. I want you have to leave!”

“Mama,” cried the voice, “Mama it’s me, it’s your little Mouse, Mama. I know your smell. Stop tricking me and come in here! Mama, come in and be with me, please. It’s dark in here and the girl’s asleep.”

A small paw was thrust under the door. In the dim glow of the nightlight, Carlie could see the tortoise shell markings on the small kitten’s paw. She could hear the little cat on the other side sobbing.

Carlie sat back on her haunches stunned.

“Mouse,” she whispered, “Is that your name?”

“Mama,” the kitten wailed, “That’s not funny, you know who I am.”

Carlie dropped to her stomach in front of the door. She looked straight at the paw. The voice kept reminding her of something but she couldn’t remember what. She leaned forward and groomed her paws, and then started to groom the little kitten’s.

“What is your mother’s name,” She asked quietly.

The grooming calmed the little kitten and Carlie could hear her begin to purr on the other side of the door.

“Mama,” she said quietly, “You know your name! It’s Carlie!”

Carlie stopped grooming and sat up. “Listen, kitten,” she hissed, “I am not, your mother and I am no one’s mother. I don’t have any kittens.”

“Well, Mama,” said the kitten, “You only had two this time: Me, Mouse, and my sister Goldie. You said you could only have two this time because Goldie was so big. Remember? You said that if you hadn’t named her after your Gramma Goldie you would have called her Big Head. Remember?” the little voice asked hopefully.

Carlie crouched down and put her paw over the kittens soft speckled paw. Her head was swimming with thoughts. They all seemed so impossible.

“Tell me, kitten,” she said softly, “If I am supposed to be your mother, who am I named after?”

“Oh Mama, “ giggled Mouse, “Don’t be silly. Why do you want me to tell you the family story? You taught it to me.”

“Tell me anyway,” urged Carlie.

Mouse took a deep breath and moved mer mouth to the bottom of the door. Whispering under it she began,

“OK, here goes. I am named for my Grandma. Her name is Mouse, too. You are named for your great Auntie Carlie. Carlie was Grandma Mouse’s big sister. Their Mommy was named Goldie like my big sister. But Goldie’s been dead for a long time. The old Goldie, not my sister.”

“Go on,” said Carlie. “Tell me about Carlie and Mouse, the two sisters.”

“Well,” said Mouse, “They were sisters, there were more cats in the litter too. They were named Brownie, Claire, Jessie and Tom Tucker. But the people that Grandma Goldie lived with were mean and they tried to get rid of all of the cats in the litter except for Grandma Mouse. Goldie and Mouse escaped from the house and they found Brownie, Claire, Jessie and Tom Tucker. But they never could find Carlie. So, Goldie and Mouse and the rest of the family found a safe place to live and then Mouse found a new family that was nice.

So my Grandma, Grandma Mouse named you after her sister and then you named me after Grandma Mouse.”

Carlie lay silently on the carpet.

“Did I tell it right, Mommy?” asked Mouse.

“Oh Mouse,” whispered Carlie, “I think you told it right. But I’m not your mother.”

“Well you sound like my mother,” the kitten sniffed. “Well, a little like her anyway. And you smell like her too, a little.”

“I’m not your mother, “ Carlie repeated. “It all happened so long ago that I had forgotten most of it. I am your Grandma’s sister, Carlie. And you’ve found me, little Mouse. But I didn’t know that anyone had looked for me.”

Chapter 8 ~ The First Snow

Carlie sat on the sofa back staring out the front picture window. The lawn in front of her had changed from the lush green of late Fall to the stiff wiry brown of early winter. The sky above was the color of dull steel from one end of the horizon to the other. The first snow of the winter was falling. It was an early winter and Carlie knew that there would be many more snow falls to come. She didn't mind. It meant her family would stay home more and join her on the big sofa in the quiet living room. The Dad would light fires and the girls would pop popcorn and play games with the Mom and Dad. She could sit right here on one of her favorite spots and just watch them.

Some creatures didn't much like winter. Carlie could understand that. The squirrels, who were usually so playful and funny all spring and summer, began to look worried and suspicious when the weather grew cold. By the time winter was close to its end, they seemed almost frantic when they left their nests in search for food. Some of the birds that Carlie liked to watch stayed and spent most of the winter at the feeder in her family's backyard. They huddled and shivered in the cold and their Spring and Summer songs turned to harsh screeches that warned other birds to wait their turn for a chance to sit on the perch and feed. Others birds simply disappeared and didn't come back until Spring. Sometimes Carlie wondered where they went. But mostly Carlie thought about how lucky she was to be able to stay inside with her family.

That night, a little more than a month ago, Mouse and Carlie had stayed up whispering back and forth under the door. Mouse had told her as much as she knew about what had happened to her sister and her mother. Goldie and her family were taken in by some firemen to be the official mousers for their firehouse. Over the months, different firemen and firewomen took the cats home to their families. Grandma Mouse was taken to a very nice family even though she was pregnant with her first litter. Mouse's Mom, Carlie, had been born into that litter and a few seasons later, Mouse was born and then taken to the shelter where Emma had adopted her.

Carlie told Mouse all that she knew about her family. She talked about how much she had liked her life in the little apartment and how scared she'd been when the family moved to this house. She told Mouse something she had never told anyone before, not even her best friend Jake.

"When I heard those people warn the mom and dad about me scratching the baby, I thought they were going to put me back in the dumpster. That's why I hid so much. That’s why I was always so nervous."

"Emma wouldn't have done that!" Mouse exclaimed.

"I know," Carlie replied, "I know that now," She added softly. “The Mom and Dad are really nice. They didn't say anything to those people, and deep down I think I knew I was staying. But I was still really scared.” She stopped and took a breath and then continued, “ And I like Emma and Amelia. Even if they are kind of loud sometimes and chase me around. It really is nice here. It's nicer than where Old Grey lives, that's for sure. I hope you get to meet him, and Jake and my friend Amanda and all the others when you're older."

"Can I ask you something," Mouse had said so softly Carlie almost hadn't heard her.

"Sure," said Carlie.

"Can you be my Mommy, for now?" Mouse asked. "I have a Mommy but she's not here and I kind of need a Mommy, at least for a little while." She added in a rush. "I know you don't want to be a Mommy, but I think I need one. For a little while. Please?" she ended in a quiet whisper.

Carlie was still. She didn't breath. Then, with her paw still over Mouses, she said, "Oh Mouse. I don't know a thing about being a mother. I never had a chance." Carlie felt Mouse's paw stiffen under hers. "Sweetie," she added hurriedly, "I can't be your mother, you already have one. But I am your Aunt. I'm your Great Aunt Carlie. And you're going to live with me and my girls, Emma and Amelia, and the Mom and the Dad. We're going to be together for a very long time and I'll always take care of you."

Usually, Amelia was the first member of the family to get up. But inspired by the arrival of Mouse, she had stayed up late that night coloring some more pictures in her “My Life” notebook. She had added pictures of Carlie, Mouse and a family of spiders that kept reappearing in the utility room in the basement. This morning, Amelia was destined to sleep in.

So the next morning, the Mom came out of her room first and Amelia was still sound asleep with her head under the covers and a burnt out flashlight gripped firmly in her left hand. The Mom saw Carlie sitting in front of Emma's door, her tail firmly wrapped around her front paws. Carlie looked relaxed and cheerful. She was purring loudly. When she looked up and saw the Mom, she miaowed. The Mom smiled, and humming a happy song, walked down the stairs to get her coffee.

Now, sitting on her sofa back, watching the first snow fall softly onto the lawn and covering the dead brown grass with translucent white, Carlie felt the more peaceful than she could ever remember. The house was quiet, everyone was off at school or work but she knew they would be back before the end of the day. Behind her, on the top of the china hutch, the old anniversary clock ticked off the seconds. Every now and then, a car would pass by, it's wheels hissing on the wet pavement and Carlie wondered if snakes made that kind of hiss, or only the tires on people's cars.

Soft footsteps padded up behind her, she felt the cushion beneath her shift as a small body leaped up.

"Watcha doing," Mouse asked eagerly.

"Come up and see something you've never seen before, " Carlie replied.

Mouse climbed up on the sofa back and rubbed her head up against Carlie's chest. She looked out over the light cover of white that had finally covered the brown front lawn and then raised her head to look up at the sky. Her eyes caught the path of a snowflake and her head moved back and forth as she followed the flake from the sky to the lawn below.

"Wow," she said with a hushed whisper. "What is it, Aunt Carlie? What’s wrong with the rain?”

"It's snow, sweetie," Carlie answered. "Fall is all over, and now Winter is here. A little early, but here it is. For the next few months it's going to be cold and we'll see a lot of that falling from the sky. Snow is kind of like rain, only frozen solid. There’s nothing wrong with it."

"Can we go out in it?" Mouse asked, "It looks like a lot of fun."

"It does, doesn't it," Carlie murmured. She sat up straight and started to groom the fur between Mouse's ears. "No sweetie, we're the indoor kind of cats so we won't go out in it. It's too cold anyway. But, when Emma and Amelia come in, they'll have it all over their boots and coats so you'll get to play with some. Emma brought me something called a snowball once. She put it right here on the floor of the living room and I played with it until it got stuck under the sofa. Then it melted and I never saw it again. But it was fun for awhile."

"Will she bring me one?" Mouse asked.

"I bet she will," Carlie answered. "You know, sweetie, later this afternoon, we should go watch the dishwasher. I heard a mouse under there last night and I bet the Mom would like it if we caught it for her and left her another present."

Mouse leaned onto Carlie's shoulder and rubbed her little head against it. She started to purr and then lay down and stared out into the snow. Her eyes followed the flakes as they traced patterns in the sky.

"Yeah," she purred, "You’re right Aunt Carlie, we should do that.” She yawned and purred even louder. “This afternoon, maybe."

Mouse was quiet for awhile. Her deep purrs rumbled and were joined by the higher and softer purrs of Carlie.

"Aunt Carlie?" Mouse said, breaking the stillness.

"Yes, Mouse?"

"I love you, Aunt Carlie."

"And I love you, too Mouse."

The End

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