Elephi

by Jean Stafford

“Thank you,” said Elephi modestly. He curled up companionably on Whitey’s hood and he said, “Would you like to tell me the story of your life?”

  There was a catch in Whitey’s voice as if he were holding back the tears. “It’s a story of ups and downs,” he said.

  Sadly he told it.

  Whitey had been taken as an infant from a foundling hospital on Long Island called the Imported Motor Corporation of America. His foster parents, the Blasters, had adopted him to transport their daughter, Miss Alice, from home to her college classes and back. Miss Alice, who was eighteen years old and as pretty as a spring garden in bloom, knew exactly what a small car of Italian parentage liked and what it didn’t like. She bathed Whitey often and never let him get tired or overheated and she regularly took him to the clinic for a check-up.

  But life with Miss Alice was not entirely a bed of roses. Also living in the Blasters’ garage was a big, bossy Cadillac who was always bragging about how strong he was and how fast he could run and how expensive his upholstery was. He sneered at Whitey, called him ‘shrimp” or “peanut” or “microbe.” He would say things like, “Who could have dreamed that I would share a roof with a shrimp? And a foreign shrimp at that?”

  Whitey never answered back. It would be a waste of breath to talk to such a blow-hard.

  Mr. Blaster (his name suited him to a T) was not nice. He loved his daughter but he thought her taste in cars was silly and he never came into the garage without making a slighting remark much in the manner of the Cadillac. “Looks like a bug from the moon,” he would say. Or, “It’ll be ready for the dump in a year.”

  One day not long ago, old Smarty Pants Cadillac came down with a head cold and he refused to go out into the snow. He coughed and sneezed and carried on at a great rate and he told Whitey that he hated to get his tires wet. He said wet tires were undignified to a Cadillac.

  So Whitey had to take Mr. Blaster to his office. As he was leaving the garage, the lousy Cadillac laughed rudely and said, “The old man’d better get a horse.”

  The Blasters lived in Westchester, a long way from Wall Street and Whitey did not look forward to the trip. He would gladly have taken Miss Alice anywhere in any kind of weather, but traveling with her father was a horse of a different color. It was like hauling a load of cement and lead pipes with a few whales thrown in for good measure. And although Whitey did not complain once about the snow that blinded him and often made him skid off the road, and even though he ran as fast and smoothly as he could under the circumstances, Mr. Blaster wasn’t satisfied. He called Whitey a flop and a dope and a drip and a jellyfish and a watch fob. On the way to the city, he kept the radio going and all the news that came over it was bad. The storm was going to break records and motorists were advised to stay at home. Some of the parkways were already impassable, many trains were stalled and everywhere the drifts were tremendous. If it was bad now, what was it going to be like when Whitey had to take Mr. Blaster home?

  Mr. Blaster did not believe a word the radio said. He acted as if the weather bureau had it in for him and was trying to tease and fluster him so that he wouldn’t have his wits about him when he got to his office to close a big deal. “Big Deal” was Mr. Blaster’s middle name. The only thing in the world he cared about was money and the only thing he liked to buy with it was more money.

  He acted, too, as if Whitey was in cahoots with the weather people and was sliding around deliberately just to be a nuisance and make him late.

  Finally, Whitey got sick and tired of Mr. Blaster’s bad temper and he stopped. He could have gone on. He could easily have got to Wall Street, but he was angry now and decided to stand up for his rights. So he came to a full stop on a corner by a church.

  He pretended to start again, but he really had no intention of doing so. Mr. Blaster flew into a roaring tantrum, the one that Elephi had seen and heard from his window. But Whitey did not care. All he wanted was to have a little peace and quiet and not have to listen another minute to that fat fault-finder. He was sure that Miss Alice would soon come to take him home.

  Shortly after Mr. Blaster went stamping off, Whitey fell fast asleep. And he only woke up today, a few hours ago, when two men had come to dig him out of the snow.

  “I don’t know who they were,” said Whitey. “And I don’t know where I am. Do you know, Elephi?”

  “Of course,” said Elephi. “You’re at my house,” and he explained how he had seen Whitey disappear and how he had brought about the rescue.

  Whitey was greatly impressed. “Wow!” he said. “You do have some I.Q! And what do we do next?”

  “First of all, are you hungry?” asked the hospitable cat.

  “I don’t think so,” said Whitey, “but you might check my oil.”

  Since Elephi did not have the faintest idea how to do this but did not want to let Whitey see that there were gaps in his smartness, he changed the subject. He said, “I’m going to give you a bath.”

  With the first touch of Elephi’s rough tongue, Whitey squeaked, “Hey, cut it out! You’re tickling me!” but Elephi went right on in his quick, neat way and pretty soon Whitey admitted that it was rather fun to be cleaned by a cat.

  When the worst of the spots and streaks were gone, Elephi lay down on Whitey’s hood to rest and Whitey said, “Listen, you’re a real friend. I’ll never forget your kindness as long as I live. But what’s going to happen when your people find me?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll have to think about it,” said Elephi. “They’re nice. I think they’ll invite you to stay.”

  “But what about Miss Alice?” said Whitey. “She’ll miss me and to tell you the honest truth, I miss her. I didn’t care when I was asleep, but now . . .”

  “Don’t you want to stay with me?” asked Elephi forlornly. “We could box and wrestle and play hide-and-seek and things like that.”

  “Cars can’t do things like that,” said Whitey. “We can only play racing games and we can only do that out of doors.”

  “Oh,” said Elephi. He fell silent in his disappointment and Whitey, taking pity on him, said, “Why don’t you come live with us instead? You could go riding with Miss Alice and me.”

  Elephi shook his head. “I don’t like the sound of Dandy Lion. He sounds too dumb. And the Cadillac sounds like a stuffed shirt. As for your Mr. Big Deal Blaster, I know I couldn’t stand him.”

  Neither the cat nor the car could think of anything else to say.

  In the silence, Elephi heard a key in the lock of the front door and he said, “Shhh! It’s Mrs. Cuckoo. I’ll have to go now. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  He yawned like a crocodile when he saw Mrs. Cuckoo and blinked his eyes and stretched as if he had just waked up from a long nap.

  “That’s not fair,” said Mrs. Cuckoo. “All the time I’ve been in that killer’s chair, you’ve been off in the Land of Nod.”

  She turned on the lamps and plumped up the cushions and as she picked up Elephi’s own red one, she glanced out the window and said, “Why, the little white car is gone. I’m glad of that. It seemed unfriendly of its owners to leave it there all this time.”

  If you only knew where the white car is! thought Elephi. For the time being, he decided, it would be a good idea not to let Mrs. Cuckoo out of his sight. He knew it was going to be a shock to her when she found Whitey and he felt it would be easier when Mr. Cuckoo came home. So he followed her into the bedroom while she changed her shoes and combed her hair. And followed her into the kitchen while she prepared the tea tray. And followed her into the front hall when the doorbell rang. Mrs. Frenchman was there. (Mrs. Frenchman had another name but it was much too long and hard and since she was French, that’s what Elephi called her.)

  Elephi sat on a footstool near Mrs. Cuckoo as the ladies drank their tea and ate their macaroons and he listened to them talk of what they had bought for Christmas. Mrs. Cuckoo was going to give Mr. Cuckoo a clam steamer and a wheelbarrow to use next summer in the country. Mrs. Frenchman was going
to give Mr. Frenchman a desk and a globe of the world.

  “Do you have the clam steamer here?” asked Mrs. Frenchman. “I’d love to see it.”

  “Yes, it’s here. Let me just fetch it from the back room,” said Mrs. Cuckoo.

  Oh, oh! Elephi’s heart sank. He ran ahead of her and in the kitchen he rubbed against her legs and flicked his tail, pretending to be hungry, but she said to him, “Later, cat cat.”

  Sensibly Elephi hid in the cupboard where the paper towels were.

  “What on earth!” exclaimed Mrs. Cuckoo, and she called, “Charlotte, come here!”

  Mrs. Frenchman came to the back room on the double.

  “What is it?” said Mrs. Cuckoo’s friend.

  “I’m not quite sure,” said Mrs. Cuckoo. “But it distinctly looks like a car.”

  “For heaven’s sake! It not only looks like a car, it most decidedly is one.”

  “And look,” said Mrs. Cuckoo, “here’s a tag addressed to us. But how did it get here?”

  “You know, it really doesn’t make sense,” said Mrs. Frenchman.

  “Nobody we know is rich enough to give us a car,” said Mrs. Cuckoo. “And besides, we don’t drive. I’m afraid it’s a big mistake. A great big fat mistake that will get us into trouble.”

  “How do you mean into trouble?” said the French lady.

  “Don’t you imagine that it’s been stolen?” And then, in a different tone of voice, she said, “Charlotte, do you know that I think this is that little bit of a car that stalled across the street several days ago? I noticed a while ago that it was gone.”

  How? Who? When? Mrs. Cuckoo and Mrs. Frenchman asked the questions over and over and then they began to laugh and when Mr. Cuckoo came home, he found them sitting on Whitey’s hood laughing themselves silly.

  Mr. Cuckoo called Walter and Walter said, “Why, yes, sir, it was settin’ right there across the road, right there by the church, and seeing that it was addressed to you, me and Sam brought it up. Don’t weigh no more than about like a big T.V. set.”

  “But how did you know it was there?” asked Mr. Cuckoo.

  “Well, now, that was the funny part of it,” said Walter, and Elephi, who was still hiding, imagined that he was scratching his head. “When your torn cat got out, I found him on top of this here little old car. Like he meant to lead me to it all along.”

  “No,” said Mrs. Cuckoo. “It is well known that he’s so smart he scares us, but not even Elephi could manage to steal a car for us.”

  “I don’t know nothing about it,” said Walter. “No more’n what I told you.”

  Walter left and the Cuckoos and Mrs. Frenchman went back into the living room to discuss how they should return Whitey to his rightful master. Elephi silently left his cupboard and went into Whitey’s room. Somebody had opened Whitey’s door and Elephi jumped in. “I didn’t steal you,” he whispered. “I rescued you!”

  “I know it,” said Whitey. “And it was the decentest thing a cat could do for a car. Tell me, though, Elephi, why did you do it?”

  Elephi’s eyes filled with tears. “Because I wanted a companion,” he said. “And you looked about my age.”

  Whitey was solemn. “I know,” he said. “I know what you mean. I’ve often felt the same way myself. Oh, Miss Alice is a peach and Dandy Lion is all right in his way. But it isn’t much fun not to have a real pal.”

  “If they had asked another cat to come and live with us, I wouldn’t have brought you here,” said Elephi, “because now I see that it’s not very comfortable for you in this room.”

  “To be perfectly frank, it isn’t,” said Whitey. “I feel cramped. I wish the vacuum cleaner would move over.”

  Mr. Cuckoo was at the telephone in the pantry calling the police and Elephi heard him say, “I can’t explain it over the phone. Please send me an officer right away. Why can’t I tell you? Because you wouldn’t believe me, that’s why. Oh, well, all right . . . there is a strange car in my apartment.” There was a pause. “You heard me. I said there is a strange car in my apartment.”

  Elephi said to Whitey, “Do you think they’ll take me to jail?”

  “Of course not,” said Whitey and chuckled a little. “They’ll never believe you did it. It’s far more likely that they’ll take the Cuckoos to jail.”

  “Oh, dear! I didn’t mean to cause so much trouble,” said poor Elephi.

  “I hope somebody gets here soon,” said Whitey. “Pressing against the wall like this makes my nose hurt. I’d like to sneeze but I’m afraid if I do I’ll blow up.”

  Whenever Elephi was unhappy or whenever he had done something wrong or when he was faced with a problem that he could not solve, he found that the best policy was to go to sleep. So he clasped his front paws over his eyes and purred a lullaby to himself and soon he was having his favorite dream of eating fresh catnip pie.

  He was on his third helping of this imaginary treat when Whitey shook violently and hoarsely whispered, “The cops are here!”

  Elephi had just time to get out of Whitey and to jump to a high shelf where he stood in a dark corner, half hidden by some boxes of moth balls.

  Two large policemen, accompanied by Walter and Sam, the Cuckoos and Mrs. Frenchman, crowded around the doorway of the back room.

  “So help me,” said one of the policemen, a stout young man with red eyebrows and a red mustache to match. “So help me if you weren’t telling the truth. Now let’s hear the story.”

  Walter told his story again and Sam declared that this was exactly the way it all had happened. Both policemen wrote busily in their notebooks.

  “We ought to take the lot of them to the station house,” said the older of the two officers, “But I don’t know what we could book them on.

  “There must be some kind of a law against keeping a car in an apartment,” said the younger. “But I never heard of it because I never heard of a car being in an apartment before.”

  “See if you can find any evidence in the glove compartment,” said the first and the one with the red eyebrows began rooting about in Whitey’s breast pocket.

  “Yep, here we are,” he said triumphantly as he withdrew a leather wallet full of papers. “Registered in the name of Miss Alice Blaster, Peppercorn Lake, New Rochelle.” To Mr. Cuckoo, he said sternly, “Who is Miss Alice Blaster, Mister? And what is her car doing in your apartment?”

  Mr. Cuckoo rubbed his hands together in despair. “I have never heard of Miss Alice Blaster and I would like to know why her car is here just as much as you would. I don’t want her car. I don’t want any car. I don’t know how to drive and I don’t intend to learn.”

  The young policeman gave him a hard look. “Maybe you planned to sell this stolen goods?” he said. “Is that your racket?”

  The other policeman said, “Ease up, Murphy. I think the guy is telling the truth. Let’s call the boss and see what we ought to do next.”

  Murphy went to the pantry to telephone and came back with the news that a Mr. Blaster had reported a missing car. A white Fiat that he had left by the Presbyterian church in the great snow. He had gone to haul it out this afternoon and, when he found that it was not there, he had looked for it first at the car pound and then had appealed to the police. He was being notified at his house in New Rochelle.

  For the time being, nothing more could be done and Mrs. Cuckoo suggested that everyone go into the living room and be comfortable while waiting for Mr. Blaster’s call.

  “Oh, I wish they’d hurry,” moaned Whitey. “I’m smothering! I’m hot! Every part of me hurts!”

  “I’m sorry,” said Elephi from his perch.

  “Oh, I don’t blame you,” said Whitey. “You meant well. But I think that for a cat with such a high I.Q. you should have figured out that these quarters would be too snug for me.”

  Elephi knew he deserved the scolding, but all the same it broke his heart.

  “You might teach me how to purr,” said Whitey. “It would help pass the time.”

&nbs
p; Once again Elephi made a circle of himself on Whitey’s hood and began to demonstrate the principles of purring.

  Just as Whitey was beginning to get the hang of it, the policemen and the Cuckoos and Mrs. Frenchman came trooping back. And with them was a very pretty girl in a tall fur hat.

  “Yes, it certainly is my car!” cried the girl and rushed to pat Whitey’s head. Elephi gathered from the general conversation that Miss Alice was staying in the city for a few days and her father had telephoned from New Rochelle to tell her where she could find Whitey.

  “It’s such a faithful little car,” she said, smiling and rubbing a bit of smudge off Whitey’s windshield with a handkerchief that smelled of violets. “I don’t care how it got here. I think it was rather a sweet mistake.”

  “I’m glad you do,” said Mrs. Cuckoo, greatly relieved.

  Miss Alice laughed. “It’s a good thing I was in town. I don’t think Daddy would think it was such a sweet mistake.”

  “You don’t want to press any charges against these people, then, is that it?” asked Murphy.

  “Certainly not,” said Miss Alice. “I think it’s an awfully funny joke. The question is, how am I going to get the cute little thing out of here?”

  “We’ll get it out the way it got in,” said Mr. Cuckoo, “and the quicker the better,” and he went off to ring the bell of the service elevator to summon Walter. “Walter has been called umpteen times today. Think what I’m going to have to tip him!”

  Policeman Murphy said, “Okay, maybe you got a better idea? Maybe you’d like to buy it from Miss Blaster and leave it here? Some peculiar interior decorating that would be, I must say.”

  “How ridiculous it all is,” said Mrs. Cuckoo.

  “How impossible,” said Mrs. Frenchman.

  “How funny!” said Miss Blaster.

  The service elevator was out of order. According to Walter it had just up and died on him and it would be days before it could be repaired.

  Whitey was too big for the front elevator.

  The Cuckoos groaned.