The Last Butterscotch

by Dan Absalonson



  The Last Butterscotch

  Copyright 2010 Dan Absalonson

  The Last Butterscotch

  It had become routine for his mom, caring for newborn kittens. She had done it maybe a hundred times; which is why when Henry Jr. saw them in the barn, he counted them several times. Sure of the number he jogged into the house.

  "Mom!"

  "Yes, what is it dear? Breakfast is almost ready."

  "No mom, you gotta come see."

  "Come see what dear?"

  "Well, you said there were four kittens."

  "Yeah?"

  "Well, I counted, and just to make sure, I counted like six times, but there's five kittens mom!"

  Melinda put down the jam smeared table knife, and followed her son to the door. On the way she wiped jelly from her fingers onto her apron; then picked up her pad and pencil. On it she had written a short description of each kitten, along with their weight and health status. To the left of each kitten's weight she had left space for a name.

  Henry Jr. had just turned 12 and was now old enough to have a kitten of his own. If there was runt in the litter, or one that didn't sell, it was his. Another perk to this honorarium was that he now had the privilege to name each kitten. As they left the house, the familiar smells of hay and cow manure filled the air. The sunlight bounced brightly off Melinda’s flower patterned shirt. She had to squint until inside the barn, where she squinted again in disbelief. There were five kittens.

  "My word. In all my years. I just don't see how there could have been another kitten in that mama's belly."

  It was strange enough that there was an extra kitten, but he looked exactly like one of the others who had been accounted for. Beyond that, this duplicate kitten had been sitting apart from the others, as if watching them. As soon as Melinda had come into the barn, he scurried over to join the rest of the pack at the mama kitten's side. She couldn't be sure, but thought it had looked like that kitten's eyes were open when they came in. Had it been watching the others? No newborn kitten can open its eyes.

  "How come he was sitting apart from the others over there mama?"

  "I don't know child, I've never seen anything like it."

  She walked over and picked up the little guy. To be sure, it was an exact replica. Every stripe, each accented paw, matched another kitten. To her amazement the cats even weighed the same. While she had the chance to know them apart, she marked a claw off the new addition with a black marker from her apron pocket.

  "Well, you're going to have to come up with another name now. What are you going to name them all Henry?"

  "Oh, that's easy mom."

  He rummaged in his pocket, and pulled out a small creamy orange disk wrapped in clear plastic.

  "I'm going to name them all Butterscotch, after my favorite candy."

  He pulled off the wrapper, stuffed it back in his pocket, and popped the candy into his mouth.

  "They're the same color,” he said, his tongue dancing around the candy to form his words.

  "Yes they are Henry. You're going to name all of them Butterscotch?"

  "Yes mama."

  "Well, that's your choice. They'll all be given different names when they go home with families anyway. Alright, I'll mark down Butterscotch for all of them.”

  She wrote down the names, put her pad back into her pocket, and they headed back to the house for lunch. The fifth Butterscotch scurried away from the other kittens as they shut the door. Then he opened his eyes.

  Papa came in from milking the cows to join his family for lunch. They passed around the sandwiches and piled them onto their plates.

  "Thanks dear, this will really hit the spot." Henry said.

  "They're just sandwiches Henry."

  "Henry Jr., doesn't your mama make the best sandwiches this side of the state?"

  With his mouth full of peanut butter and jelly, Henry Jr. replied, "oh yeah papa, even better than Mrs. Jennings at the dinner in town."

  "Well, thank you. I like to keep my hard working boys well fed."

  "So Henry, Mama was telling me you got to name the kittens today."

  "Yeah, I named them all butterscotch, because they're all the same color as my favorite candy."

  "Is that so?" his father said with a chuckle.

  "Well son, are there any runts among them?"

  "No papa, they're all a good size."

  "Well, maybe in the next litter son."

  "Yeah, I was really hoping there would be a little guy in this litter."

  "I don't know,” Melinda said, “he might be getting one this time around."

  "You talking about that late bloomer honey?"

  "Yeah, there's something strange about that kitten; something not right with it."

  "Nonsense," Henry said with a laugh.

  "No, I'm serious. It's like it came from somewhere else. I swear I saw it watching the others when we first came into the barn."

  "With its eyes open? A newborn kitten?"

  Henry laughed again, but this time it was no chuckle. He sounded like a pig with a freshly filled trough. Melinda took another bite of sandwich and nodded; no smile creased her face. Henry took one look at her, and his chortles died off.

  As the weeks went by, the extra kitten showed some very odd behavior. He looked just fine, healthy and gaining weight; but he was always the exact same weight as his twin. Also, he could never be found feeding; it was a mystery to Malinda just how he gained this weight. But what bothered her the most was the very thing her husband had laughed at the morning the kitten had been discovered. She had snuck into the barn a couple times and seen the kitten with its eyes open. Both times he was standing apart from the others, like he was observing them or something. It gave her the creeps.

  Her son had taken a liking to the little guy. Henry Jr.’s love for the tiny cat grew as he and his siblings came of age to be sold. They were given nine weeks, and then visitors came to take them away and give them homes. Time and time again the last Butterscotch had not been chosen. It made Henry Jr. feel sorry for him. He held high hopes that maybe his mom had been right.

  When people came to see the kittens they were all cute and cuddly; all except number five. He would hide in the corner, or duck under the mama cat. When a child would try and pick him up; he would run away until corned, and then become hostile. It scared the kids and their parents. As much as Henry Jr. had hoped no one would buy the little guy, his mom prayed daily that it would find another home.

  When all but two of the kittens had been sold, a little boy had come with his mother to pick one out. Number five was nearest to him when they came in, but when he reached for the kitten it ran from him. He chased it to the corner, but stopped when it faced him with its hair standing on end. He saw the other cat near its mother, and went to it. This kitten was happy to be in his arms, and when he put him down the cat walked around the boy; brushing up against his sky blue jeans and purring with affection.

  "I like this one mommy, that other one is weird," the boy said.

  "Alright child. No need to be rude. Pick him up and carry him to the truck then.”

  "Ok! Thanks mommy!"

  "That's fine." She turned to Melinda as she reached in her purse, “we'll take that one then please.”

  As Melinda made change the woman looked at the other kitten, still cowering in the corner. She gave it an odd look, and then realized Melinda was holding out her change. She turned and smiled as she took it.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  Melinda smiled back, but after the woman left her lips switched to a frown. Her gaze hovered over to the last kitten; sitting in the corner watching everyone with a keen intelligence. Those eyes did not belong inside of a kitten. She turned away, about to
leave, when she heard,

  "I don't think you're weird, I like you."

  She looked back to see her son with the kitten in his arms. Somehow it never ran from him. He looked to her, and said, "Can I keep him mama? No one else is going to buy him."

  She looked down and let out a big sigh. "I suppose so darling. Maybe you can give that kitten enough love to start acting normal."

  Henry Jr. and the kitten got along just swell. After a few days of holding and feeding the kitten, he began to follow Henry Jr. around wherever he went. While he did his chores, the kitten was totally content to just lie nearby and watch him work.

  While he ate his meals it would wrap around his legs, caressing his boots with an outstretched back until lying near his feet. This night it lay curled up in a ball next to him, purring softly. Henry Jr. lay in bed under the covers, reading a science fiction magazine with a flashlight. He had become the best of friends with the kitten, even though he had notice some strange behavior from time to time. It always seemed that unless he noticed you watching, the kitten would be studying you. At other times it was as if he was listening to conversations. After finishing a story about a kid who had found an alien ship under some hay in the loft of his daddy's barn, he tucked the magazine under his pillow and called it a night. Soon his tiny snoring sounds became a harmony to the kitten's soft purring.

  Later that night, Henry Jr. woke up.

  "I must of had one too many glasses of water," he said.

  As he pulled his covers off and sat up, he noticed his cat Butterscotch was not laying next to him.

  "Butterscotch? Where are you boy?"

  He called in one of those whispering yells, but didn't see the cat anywhere. Unable to ignore nature’s call, he got up and made his way to the bathroom. Just as he reached to open the door, he looked down the hall and saw blue flickering light dancing across the plastered walls. Nature could wait; he wanted to see why papa was up. Something must have been worrying Henry Sr., his dad was always to bed early on account of getting up to work the farm.

  "Papa? Why are you up? Is everything alright?"

  When the recliner failed to swivel, he walked through the hall into the living room and saw his cat asleep on the couch next to the television remote.

  "Butterscotch? What are you doing in here? Were you keeping papa company?"

  He scratched the cat behind the ears, and it immediately jumped up and walked back to the bedroom. Henry Jr. noticed that his cat had not stretched before getting off the couch; one more thing that didn’t seem right about the little fellah. It was always something small, but it was always something.

  A yawn reminded him he had better do his business and get back to sleep, so he went into the bathroom and then back to bed. Butterscotch was there, curled into a ball ready to join him in dreamland. He climbed into bed and pulled the covers up over his legs. He stroked Butterscotch a few times from head to tail. It always amused him to see the way cats stretched their bodies upwards to feel the touch your hand. Soon the cat was laying back down purring.

  As Henry Jr. slowly fell back asleep in the back of his mind he barely noticed that even the cat's purring sound was a bit off. He had been around cats all his life, but never had he heard a purr like this. He hoped nothing was wrong with the little guy. It sounded a bit too high pitched, more like a clicking than a purr. He yawned again and let his mind drift from concern to excitement for the next morning.

  It would be Saturday, and that meant he got to sleep in a bit, and watch television before having to go out and do his chores. He hoped mama would be making hotcakes, they were his favorite. Before long he was asleep, dreaming of fluffy golden brown stacks covered in thick crunchy peanut butter and rich maple syrup. His plate held a pile so high, it almost reached the ceiling as its syrup coated sides glistened in the sunlight streaking in through the windows.

  He woke up and started to reach for his boots when he remembered it was Saturday. He could stay in his pajamas until after he was finished with his breakfast. He slid out of bed and walked into the living room. He turned on the television set and waited for his favorite show, Howdy Doody, to come on. As he watched it his mom made her way out to the kitchen and started making breakfast. Before long he could smell that it was his favorite. Now that he thought about it, she made it for him just about every Saturday morning. She was practiced at it too, because just as his show was ending she called to him,

  "Breakfast is ready Henry. Will you go and get your father and let him know?" Apparently it had become a weekly tradition, because just as he came back into the living room with his boots over his pajamas, his dad came in the front door.

  "Son, what are you doing wearing your boots over the top of your PJs?"

  "I was coming to get you papa."

  "Well take your boots off buddy, you look silly."

  "Yes sir!" Henry Jr. said with a salute.

  "Let me guess, The Howdy Doody Show was just on?"

  "Yeah dad, it's my favorite, just like mom's hotcakes!"

  "She does make some good hotcakes, doesn't she?"

  His dad ruffled his hair as he walked to the table and took his place. Henry Jr. joined him.

  "Mmm, it smells good. Thanks for making hot cakes mama."

  "Well, it's my pleasure Henry Jr. You're a good boy, and a hard worker. You deserve to sleep in a little, watch some television, and have some hotcakes on Saturday morning. You won't be a little boy forever," she said glaring at Henry Sr. who ignored her.

  "It won't be much longer that I can baby you."

  She walked over, pulled him close, and gave him a kiss on the head. Then she sat down and looked at the two boys.

  "Now who's saying grace?"

  They bowed their heads, papa said a few words, and then they got to eating.

  Everyone made short stacks of golden brown hotcakes and covered them with butter

  and syrup. They passed a glass pitcher with ice cold mild around, filling their

  glasses and digging in with forks of fury. After the initial chow down, they began talking about the day’s work.

  "Henry honey, why don't you go muck out the stables after breakfast, and then

  you can groom and feed the horses."

  “Okay mama,” Henry said.

  As much as mucking out the stables sounded like the worst job on the farm, Henry Jr. didn't mind the smell so much; he had grown up around it all his life. Besides that, the best part came after the dirty work was done. He loved brushing down the horses, talking to them as he ran bristles through their hair. He loved the way their soft noses felt under his calloused working hands. The horses like him too, mama always said they were more at ease after he had taken his time to groom and feed them. The only bad thing about doing this job now, was that Butterscotch couldn't come with him.

  While the cat was at his side day and night, it was a little too dangerous and messy to be underneath the horses while Henry worked. So he left his cat on the couch after he got dressed, and headed out to the stables. Time always flew by once the hard part was over. Henry had always thought horses made great company with their beautiful hair and kind eyes.

  He finished a bit early and headed in to get washed up before lunch. On the way back to the house he decided that he was a spy; so he would have to sneak into the house undetected by the enemy. His enemy would be expecting him, so he went around to the back of the house. He opened the door slowly, doing his best to quiet the creaks and groans its hinges made. Once inside with the door closed behind him and no enemy detection, he crept low towards the main control room. That's when he noticed that the television was on, which was odd, because he knew his parents were still out working. He had turned it off before going out to work in the stables. Then he noticed that the channel had been changed. It was on the news, not the same channel that Howdy Doody was on. He figured it must have been his dad, but there's no way his dad would have taken a break from working to stop into the house and watch the news. His parents were nothin
g, if not predictable.

  He moved farther into the living room and noticed that the remote control was no longer on the coffee table. Then he heard that strange clicking, almost like the sound of a cat's purr. But it was a cat's purr, his cat's purr. And right there underneath Butterscotch's paw, was the television remote. Apparently he had fallen asleep. Had he accidentally pressed one of the buttons? But how could he have gotten it from the coffee table? His dad must have been using it, but he was sure his dad always turned the television off. Butterscotch must have accidentally turned it back on with the remote under his paw after his dad had changed it to the news. He grabbed the remote, waking the cat.

  He sat next to him, changing it back to the kid shows, and watched the rest of them until his parents came in for lunch. His mom came in first to get a start on making lunch. He would have asked his mom if his dad had come in to watch the news, but he knew she was already really creeped out by his cat. He didn't want her to become even more scared of Butterscotch; so he waited for his daddy to come in. Soon his pa was inside as well, and as his mama went in to freshen up, he asked him,

  "Hey papa, did you watch the news earlier this morning?"

  "No boy, why do you ask?"

  "Well, it's kind of funny; when I came in after doing my chores, the television set was on. Not only that but the remote had been moved to the couch; which I found underneath my cat's paw, and the channel had been changed to the news station."

  "Well, that's mighty peculiar, ain’t it? Don't tell your mama. It’ll scare her."

  "I know. It's almost like the cat got it from the coffee table and changed the channel."

  "He was asleep when you came in?"

  "Yeah, with the remote right under his paw."

  "Well, it wasn't me son, I don't know what to tell you. You sure you didn't leave the remote on the couch, maybe he bumped a button?"

  "No, I'm sure papa. I turned the television set off, and put the remote in its spot just like you tell me to."

  "Well, let's just forget about the whole thing and try and enjoy our lunch."

  "Okay papa."

  Henry Jr. let it go, but it was in the back of his mind grinding away all day as he played in the sun that afternoon. That night after dinner they played a game of three handed spades and then hit the hay. Henry Jr. was excited to read the next story in his science fiction magazine, but he was still a little spooked over the whole TV situation before lunch. Also he was worn out from mucking out the stables and bucking all the hay to feed the horses. Before he knew it, he had drifted off into a deep sleep.