Rita Brown - Cat of the Century

At that moment, Harry had her hands full with a William Woods alumna, no less.

T

hat pot was made in Italy. Of course youll replace it. Terri Kincaid, barricaded behind the counter, leveled a harsh gaze at Harry.

Only three years apart in age, Terri being thirty-seven, the women had known each other for a long time. Harry, a country girl with natural good looks, couldnt be bothered with the accoutrements of femininity. Terri lived for them. These two were oil and water.

Observing Harrys predicament was Liz Filmore from Richmond, a friend of Terris and another William Woods alumna.

Also present, his arms crossed over his chest with lips pursed, was Garvey Watson. A tall, elegant African American, he owned the successful mens clothing store next door. Garvey had a gift for retail.

Harry thought his pursed lips might be because he was upset the pot was broken.

Tucker, Harrys corgi, sat mournfully at her feet. The dog, jostled by a customer leaving, had knocked over the pot, which was sitting on a low wrought-iron table. It wasnt Tuckers fault, but what could Harry say?

The shards of pottery, picked up by Harry, rested on the counter, the deep layers of green and yellow glaze quite pretty.

How much? Harry, tight with the buck, winced.

Two hundred forty-nine dollars, plus five percent sales tax, Terri announced.

Harry fetched her checkbook and a pen from the inside of her Carhartt Detroit jacket.

As Harry wrote the check, Terri nattered on, Im so excited. Weve already raised twenty thousand dollars from local alumnae, and I havent even started yet. Liz is going to video the entire speech to use for future fund-raisers. Liz and Terri were thick as thieves. I really wish I could be there, but well throw another birthday party as a fund-raiser back here. I cant afford to leave the store, especially if good weather comes in. People spend more if they have spring fever.

Lets hope so, Garvey said. Bad economy. People are pulling back.

Liz spoke up. Garvey, people always need clothes. Terris business might be down, but shell weather the storm. So will you, unless men want to go nakeda scary thought. Eljos is your only competition.

She cited a lovely mens clothing store on Elliewood Avenue by the University of Virginia.

I certainly hope youre right, Garvey murmured, not sounding at all convinced.

Terri smiled broadly as she took Harrys check. I wont ask for ID, she joked.

Good. Harry put a good face on it, but she always thought Terri was a pain in the neck, her screech over the broken pot further confirming that opinion.

Do you know that all the alumnae over eighty will attend? There are forty of them. Isnt that wonderful? Our alumnae fund is paying for those who cant afford the airfare, and the motels in and around Fulton are giving us a special rate.

Wonderful, Harry replied tensely.

Forking over two hundred fifty dollars plus tax was eating at her.

Terri, not one to keep her woes to herself, would fan the flames of any discontent if Harry had balked at payment. Harry loathed that in a man or woman. But she hadnt just fallen off the turnip truck. Shed learned to keep her opinion to herself unless speaking with her husband or best friends. Keep it level, keep it smooth. She tried.

Terri, young for such a task, headed Charlottesvilles William Woods Alumnae Association. Once men were admitted to William Woods in

1996, an argument arose over the word alumnae. Should they change it to alumni? The Old Girls fought that one. For most of their lives they had lived under male honorifics or terms. Let the men grapple with alumnae. Surely their parts wouldnt shrivel.

So alumnae it was, at least in the eyes of the female graduates.

Such battles never interested Harry, but she did understand one great fundamental of life: Men had to prove they were men. Women did not have to prove they were women. This anxiety could make weak men either silly or downright dangerous. Strong men sailed right through.

Harry focused on the basics: animal behavior, food, clothing, shelter. She zeroed right to the core of an issue, which made people who couldnt accept brute reality nervous. Harry knew the human animal had set the natural order on its head, that among humans the weak devoured the strong. As her mother used to put it, The squeakiest wheel gets the oil.

No reason to burden Terri with reality, for Terri was one of those benighted souls who believed laws were the answer. You have a problem? Pass another law.

Liz lightened the moment. Harry, your corgi has good taste. That was a beautiful vase.

Harry smiled. Tucker has better taste than I do.

Thank you,

the dog replied.

Garvey joked, Bring her in my store. If she tears up an item or chews shoes, Ill know to order more.

Garvey, you crack me up. Harry laughed at him.

Terri, a clotheshorse, asked Harry, Do you know what youre going to wear?

Uh, well, it will probably be cold. That long wraparound wool skirt, the one I wear with the big gold pin on the front. I thought that.

But what about the dinner, and, of course, there will be the choral groups. Aunt Tally will be serenaded. You need some variety in your wardrobe.

I dont know. Ill think of something.

No jeans and cowboy boots, Terri smugly decreed.

Tell her to shut up,

Tucker grumbled.

Well go in a minute. Harry smiled down at her constant companion. Terri, hope business is good. With that, she vacated the shop, Garvey on her heels.

Sorry your little dog broke the pot. He shivered, for the wind was cold; he wore only a sweater. This sweater would look great on Fair. He poked his own chest.

Would. Harry nodded. Hes a bit of a peacock.

Id go out of business without peacocks. See you soon, I hope.

He ducked into his store.

Jeez. She looked down at Tucker. Its picked up. Winds got teeth in it.

Within a minute they reached the truck. Harry unlocked the door. It was a 1978 Ford F-150. Ran like a top. She lifted the corgi up, then slid in herself, quickly closing the door.

So?

Pewter, the fat gray cat, looked at the dog.

Mrs. Murphy, the slender tabby, said nothing but was grateful when Harry started the engine. As the truck hadnt been parked long, the heat came on.

All four creatures sat for a moment, just enjoying the warmth.

Harry always left an old blanket on the seat for the animals to snuggle in and keep warm.

As Harry turned out of Barracks Road Shopping Center onto Barracks Road, Tucker filled in the two cats on the broken pot.

Harry rarely traveled without her friends. With few exceptions, their friendship meant the most to her in the world. For one thing, they never lied to her. For another thing, they didnt care if she wore jeans and cowboy boots, earrings and mascaratwo nods to girly things. Fussing over her face and attire was just too much work for Harry. She had more important things to do.

The old truck lacked cup holders, but Harry had installed one. She plopped her cell phone into it. The phone rang. She wouldnt use her phone when driving, because she didnt trust herself not to lose concentration.

Already shed put in a full day. At 5:30 A.M. shed fed her husband, Fair, and herself. Hed then left for his practiceequine veterinary medicine. She fed the horses, mucked their stalls, turned them out

with their blankets on. Shed called Southern States, a regional agricultural supply chain, and put in her seed and fertilizer order. This way she reaped a small discount for ordering early. Boy, it cost, too.