• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

Of an evening the subject of Tom's show might be comets and meteors, another night how the constellations are mapped and the meaning of their names.

One night Tom assigned Stephen the constellation of Orion, and when the lights went out and the stars appeared on the ceiling, it was Stephen who explained to the handful of viewers the story of the warrior and his dog.

Tom Whitney has helped most if not all the boys in the basement at one time or another, charging—if they can pay at all—a minimal fee, chastising them vigorously for their offenses, and defending them, he's fond of saying, as sincerely as they are sorry for whatever it is that they have done.

One by one the boys give testimonials regarding Tom as I tuck the kitten Bette Davis in a blanket under my coat and head for the vet's.

When I return all the kittens are stirring, revving up for the ten o'clock feeding. Charles isn't back yet from visiting friends, and the radio show drones on in the basement. I'm walking on top of a reggae beat. Outside the gate Rufus begins his low moaning.

“What is it you want?” I ask Rufus as I set Bette Davis in among her siblings and anticipate the marathon feed alone. Rufus sits up now, glad at last to be addressed. He's lain sentinel all evening.

“All right,” I say, picking up the choke leash and slipping it around Rufus's neck. “Let's see what you're going to do.” As usual, once in the gate Rufus tugs toward the kittens.

But this time, instead of pulling him back in a panic I control his progression as he strains to put his head in the drawer. Rufus sniffs the kittens, apparently without guile, and moves them around a bit with his muzzle.

“Careful,” I warn. But to my surprise, he begins licking them gently, one then another, turning them over carefully as he licks them clean, top to bottom.

My grasp tight around the leash, I lean away from Rufus, pick up a bottle, and begin to feed Bette Davis, whose appetite is surely increased, then I set her down.

Rufus leans to the sickling. He performs deftly a mother cat's task. As the kitten's bowels relax, Rufus cleans her up, waits a moment, then licks her down again as he nudges her over to a warm corner of the drawer and awaits the next one.

And so, one by one, Rufus and I tend to the kittens. Still blind, they mew and lean toward his heat, work their way against his tongue, his hound's long nose and strong odors as he cleans and nuzzles and slides them over.

To the last bars of Marley's “War,” the radio show breaks up and the boys clomp up the stairs. They linger in amazement on the other side of the gate as they watch Rufus climb into the drawer and settle carefully among the kittens.

“Word,” they address Rufus. “Good man. Way to go, brother,” they gently praise him.

Tired from his long watch, tired from desire and longing against our human assumptions, Rufus looks up at the boys and sighs. Then he rests his head on the edge of the drawer above his brood and falls asleep.

Dear Mr. P,

Having been away until two days ago, I had not received the waiver denial regarding my son Steve Digges in Ms. S‘s Anthropology class. This denial of waiver distresses me greatly. We can certainly document the reason for the eleven absences in Ms. S‘s class, and intend to do so straight away so that he may receive credit.

There is no doubt that one of the absences recorded in Ms. S‘s class was the result of an in-house suspension which Stephen received for very poor judgment regarding riding on the hood of someone's car in the high school parking lot.

Though Steve asked Ms. Sto confirm dates with him, she refused. According to the ARHS handbook, in-house suspension absences do not count.

Steve's Special Ed teacher attempted to intervene and advocate for Steve with Ms. S. Nevertheless, she insisted on yet another letter regarding his absences.

Thus, at the end of the school year, we wrote a second letter regarding a waiver for her class, and at this time referred her to Steve's therapist's official letter that had been submitted some time earlier (see enclosed documents)