Cat Returns Home

When Pop got home from work that day, one of the cats jumped from the trunk of the car. I was waiting for him to come home. When he got out of the car, I told him I couldn’t find Twinkle. He then said, “With all of these cats, you can say one is missing?”

My reply was, “Yes, I know my cats — well, most of them.”

Pop smiled and replied that he knew where Twinkle was. He then told me what had happened at work when he opened the trunk of the car. Then he told me not to worry; she would be home in a few days and that she was already on her way. I wasn’t entirely sure he knew what he was saying to be true, but sure enough, in two days, Twinkle was home. She was really hungry, and Pop told me I could fix up a little food just for her, so I did that right away. She ate all the food I had made. Then she jumped into my lap, and I held her for some time. The other cats were around, but it was as if they knew to let Twinkle be alone with me for a bit.

When I fed the cats that night, Twinkle ate again; then I knew she was going to be okay. I don’t remember seeing her do that ever again, but there were others that did, and again, Pop would say in two or three days the cat would be back. It was utterly amazing that they could find their way back across the island, for it was about four miles they had to travel to return home to the farm. To prevent this from happening again, before he would start the car, he opened the trunk to see if any cats were there. If they were, they jumped out, and Pop would be off to work.

Gramma was young when she passed. She got sick, and she passed very fast. All I can remember about this was that we had a gathering of people up at the farm for her. After she passed, the family had to get together and plan where Pop would be having dinner. They set up a schedule of whose house and on which days. Pop came to us two nights a week, Mondays and Wednesdays. I would pick him up using his car. Then on the other nights, Pop would drive to my aunts’ and uncles’ houses on their selected days. I loved driving his car down the lane. I didn’t have to go on the street, so it was okay for me to drive the car. But when I turned sixteen and got my learner’s permit, Pop would take me out driving on the road. This was when you could drive with anyone who had a driver’s license, not like today where it has to be your parent or guardian. He liked going out in his car and seeing the island with me.

I have two memories of dinner disasters when Pop came for dinner. Mom and Dad had gone out to dinner, and I was in charge. We were having lasagna for dinner, and when it was done, I opened the oven and slid out the rack and picked up the aluminum pan off the rack. As I was turning, the pan started to fold in half. It never made it to the dinner table, for it went right into the dog’s water dish. I let out a screech, and Pop said, “What’s wrong?”

I replied, “I ruined dinner. It went into the dog’s water dish.”

Pop told me it was okay, just dump out the water and put it back in the oven for a few more minutes. No way was I going to do that, so I went to the refrigerator and found something to put together quickly.

The next time something went completely wrong was when we were having a freshly caught bluefish. Dad had taken a few co-workers out on a charter boat off Montauk Point fishing. They caught a lot of fish, mostly bluefish and striped bass. When they got home, they laid them out on the back lawn. Mom came out and said, “What are we going to do with all these fish?”

Dad’s reply was, “Maybe we should put a call out for people to come and take some.”

Within half an hour, cars were pulling in and out, getting a fish or two. There were over seventy-five fish. Mom made some into steaks because they were so big. A lot of people came, but we still had a lot left. The freezer was filling up fast. So one night when they were going out again, she pulled a fish out of the freezer and made up a pan with potatoes and vegetables with the bluefish. It would be ready to cook for dinner, and yes, it was a night for Pop to come. I put the pan in the oven at the time Mom told me to and went up to get Pop about an hour later.

Yes, the fish made it to the table, but after I cut it up and started spooning it onto a plate, I stopped. Pop again said, “What’s wrong?”

I replied, “We can’t eat this. Mom never scaled this fish, and all the scales are mixed into the meat.”

Pop said, “It would be okay. We can eat it slowly.” I showed him the plate, and he replied, “Well, maybe not.”

So again I went to the refrigerator and found something else to eat. Other than these two times, everything else went well from then on. Pop enjoyed joining us for dinner the two nights a week that we had him for dinner, even with the mishaps.

When I got my driver’s license, I was a senior in high school. Pop had talked to my mom about letting me have the car. Mom thought I was responsible enough to own a car. So one day, when I went up the lane to pick him up for dinner, I pulled the car out of the barn, and I noticed that it had a different license plate on it. When Pop got into the car, I asked him why he had gotten new plates for the car. He then told me, “Because I don’t own the car anymore. Do you remember signing that piece of paper for your mom? She told you it was a paper you needed to sign for your license to drive her car.”

“Yes,” I told him. “It was something to do with the insurance, she told me. Why do you ask, Pop?”

“Well, it wasn’t to do with your mom’s car. It was turning my car over to you.”

“Really? The car is mine?”

“Yes,” he said. “I turned it over to you, and your mom went to the Department of Motor Vehicles and put it in your name, so we needed to get new plates for the car.” I didn’t know what to say, but after a few minutes, Pop said, “Well, we better be going. Your mom will have dinner on the table soon.”

So we were off, going down the lane. I drove into the driveway, and Mom was outside waiting for us. She had a big smile on her face and said to me, “Well, do you like your car?”

“Yes, I love it, and I can’t believe I own a car,” I replied.

We got out of the car and went into the house for dinner. When we were done, Pop and I went back out to take him home. When we pulled into the yard, I stopped for Pop to get out, and then I was going to put the car back in the barn. Before Pop got out, he knew this was what I was planning on doing. So he asked me if I was coming in for a little while, and I said, “Of course, but I have to put the car away first.”

He laughed and said, “No, you can take it home. Remember, the car is yours now.”

This was something I always did. I put the car in the barn, but I wasn’t thinking about the fact that the car was mine. I turned off the car and went into the house with Pop. We would watch TV for a while. Something he always did when he watched TV was put matches in the ashtray. So finally, one day, I asked him, “Why are you pulling off the matches?” Because every time I emptied the ashtray, there were always loose matches that were not lit.

He told me that he hated commercials and that there were so many more of them than in the past. He was keeping track of how many times they would have a commercial in a half-hour show. That’s when I noticed that they were in piles around the ashtray, and he would say, “See how many I had to put up with last night.” I couldn’t believe he was doing this; we both laughed a lot. After the show we were watching ended, I said good night, gave him a big hug, and thanked Pop for the car. I told him I would take good care of it and that we would still go for a ride around the island but in my car. He said that would be great but you better be getting home. So I gave him a big kiss and told him I would see him tomorrow after school.

A few years passed, and Pop was turning ninety, so the whole family got together for a birthday party for him. He said to me, “Remember, I’m ninety. I don’t want ninety candles to blow out.”

“No problem, we’ll take care of that,” I replied.

As everyone started to arrive, Mom had a bunch of ice cream cones. That’s when my oldest sister, Chris, walked in the door with two paper bags. By this time, the living room was filled with all my aunts, uncles, nieces, nephews, and cousins.

Pop was delighted to see everyone. All my sisters, my brother, Mom, and I were in the kitchen. Chris had some bags in her car and asked us to help get them. We looked into the bags and found ice cream in various flavors. I think it was every flavor they had at the store. We brought the bags into the kitchen. She also had a large piece of poster board shaped like a cone.

“Okay, are we ready? Let’s get started before the ice cream starts to melt,” my sister said.

We began placing scoops of the ice cream into the large cone that Chris had made from construction paper. Each of us had a scooper, and we filled the cone with ninety scoops, then placed a single candle on top. I then walked into the living room and announced that we were ready. My siblings followed, carrying the large ice-cream cone. Everyone began to sing “Happy Birthday” to Pop. He loved ice cream, but when he saw this cone, he remarked, “I hope everyone is going to help me eat this.” After blowing out the candle, children surrounded his chair, eagerly awaiting some ice cream from the massive cone. Their excitement was palpable. We began making smaller cones for everyone. The ice cream was beginning to melt, so we had to work quickly. Everyone received some, and we managed to distribute all ninety scoops. Pop had a wonderful birthday that year. He told me he had never seen so much ice cream in one cone before. Everyone stayed for most of the afternoon. Around four, guests started to leave. Pop loved having many children around him; they were energetically playing and having a fantastic time.

Since we didn’t need as many cats as we did when we had cows and chickens, whenever a cat had kittens, I would put up a sign at school asking if anyone was interested in adopting one. I never had trouble finding homes for them.