Trygg the Social Worker
Trygg was away for the weekend. This time, he didn’t just go missing. He told me he’d be away. Because he was caught getting ready to leave.
I get up early Saturday on the off chance there would be soccer on television. I go into the kitchen to pour my coffee. Trygg plugged the pot in as usual; warmed up some of the biscuits I’d made the night before, and had the butter out to soften. Call me a flawed human being, but I’m suspicious.
I see Trygg in the pantry putting a few cans of cat food into one of those Mountain Heather Day Packs. I don’t even bother looking for the discarded box from L. L. Bean.
“Hi, he says,” as if he were not up to something.
“Running away from home?”
“Uh, no. Can I borrow your ruler?”
“May I borrow your ruler?”
“I don’t have a ruler. That’s why I –“
“It’s on my desk.”
“Not that one. The one that folds up.”
“Why do you need a ruler?”
“I’m just going on a hike with some of my buddies.”
“Why do you need a ruler to go on a hike?”
“To see how far we went.”
Now, I don’t buy this one bit. Still, I go to the cupboard to get out the ruler. I remind him to be careful with it. He promises he’ll be careful. He slings his daypack onto his back and off he goes. I go in to drink my coffee. By now, I have learned not to worry. Trygg can take care of himself, he will be with his friends, and he can’t be going too far. I force myself to believe the story about the ruler. Still, how much trouble can a cat get into with a folding ruler?
The weekend is uneventful. Trygg surprises me by coming home early on Sunday afternoon.
“You’re back early,” I say. “What happened? Couldn’t you get the ruler unfolded all the way?”
Trygg drops his day pack and hops up on the sofa next to me.
“When giving alms, never let your left hand’s lawyer know what your right hand’s lawyer is doing.”
“Paw.”
“Whatever. Besides, I didn’t want you to feel embarrassed into helping. We wanted to do it ourselves.”
“Do what?”
“Feel like going for a walk?”
I get up, get my jacket, (it is still a bit breezy) and stop to look at Trygg.
“Will I need to take a ruler?
“Just put your jacket on and let’s go; but be quiet. I know you’re not a cat but that’s no excuse to go stomping around like a bull in a litter box.”
We head out, through the yard, into the woods, through to a clearing, and just beyond are some bushes. Trygg shushes me.
We peer through the bushes.
I see two picnic table benches, on their sides, facing each other. On top is a picnic table turned upside down. I see a few cats milling about, eating straight out of a can, and drinking from a puddle. I look at Trygg. He’s beaming up at me. I can see he’s proud. I think I even see a tear.
“Do you like it?”
“It’s very nice. What do you call it? Not to mention, why did you build it?
“It’s a habit for cats. See? We turned the table over. Now, the legs can be used as scratching posts. The benches are like walls. It’s low enough and large enough for Click and Sally to sprawl about in the Sun, but if it gets too hot, they can move to the other end in the shade. And it’s large enough for entertaining.”
Now I think I feel tears in my eyes.
“Who are Click and Sally?”
“A couple of free-range cats. Like some of the others. We all got together to build them this, sort-of, home. If you go past those trees and bushes over there, you get to a picnic area; and if they can’t find anything to eat in the trash there, they can always go down the road. There’s a restaurant there and the dumpster is always full of great stuff. See, they already have company.”
“This is very nice, Trygg. I really am proud of you.”
“I want you to be. I want you to think of this as my way of giving back. For taking me in; and for giving Pood and Friend somewhere to stay; and for feeding Chumley and Tuck, and Buddy’s kids. I guess we just wanted to pay it forward.”
“Now I wish I’d have brought something. For the housewarming.”
“No. Don’t embarrass them. That isn’t what this is all about, really. It’s really about cats helping cats. Come on, let’s go home.”
Trygg and I walk back to the house in silence. Once back, Trygg puts away his daypack and goes to wash up. I fix us both a snack. He gets chicken and tuna. I make a tuna and egg salad sandwich and grab a bag of chips—and a couple of gherkins.
We go into the parlour and hop on the sofa. Usually, no eating in the parlour. This, however, is a special occasion.
“By the way, what did you need the ruler for, really?
Trygg looks up at me with that bewildered cat look.
“Cats don’t have tools because cats don’t use tools. That’s why I brought the ruler.”
I give Trygg that bewildered person look.”
“You see, it’s like this. If nobody has any tools, the cat who shows up with the ruler is usually the one put in charge. I knew Click and Sally didn’t want anything special. Just a simple place that was comfortable, yet large enough to entertain or have friends stay with them. So, I brought the ruler.”
“I see.” (I didn’t, but I didn’t want to spoil the moment.)
I give Trygg a hug.
“Thanks,” he says. “I’ll do the dishes.”
I know that means he’s going to lick them clean and I’ll have to rewash them, but I don’t say anything. I’m just too proud of him.
After lunch, Trygg goes outside to lie about in the Sun with his friends.
I rewash the dishes.
Even the cat winks =^.~=
Regards,
Slim
ps. You can visit http://habitatforcats.org
Something I found on Google after Trygg told me one of his friends was going to the Vet to get tutored.
Copyright © 2011 Slim Fairview
