"Shy? Listen, Kent, that sucker sat twenty feet away, then turned and ambled straight down the center of the pasture. He was practically daring me to go after him."
"I wouldn't if I was you. Ever hear of a Scottish wild cat?"
"I've seen pictures. They look like a plain gray tabby, but apparently they have the temperament of a Tasmanian devil."
"I've heard your average Tennessee Feral Cat does not take kindly to human beings either."
"What am I going to do about him?"
"Why should you do anything about him?"
"That thing is a tomcat, Kent. It needs to be neutered and given its shots."
"I wish you luck neutering it, Dr. Maggie. You're about as likely to catch that cat as I am to stick my head into a rattlesnake's mouth."
I was bound and determined to snare that cat. It was just as bound and determined not to get caught. I left food for it on the patio every night. Every night I watched until my eyes were too heavy to see, and every night it outwaited me before eating. I borrowed a humane trap from Kent-one used to trap beavers and skunks that were making nuisances of themselves under porches and in attics. Every night that cat would manage to snitch the food and spring the trap, but without going inside. I still don't know how he managed that little trick.
My family thought I had a screw loose. Sarah didn't see why it should be a problem. The first time she saw the cat, she named it Vercingetorix.
She'd been watching a TV show on the history of the Roman Empire. She said Vercingetorix, the barbarian, beat the stew out of a bunch of top-notch Roman legionnaires and ripped off some of their battle flags.
She said she just liked the name. I got the feeling I was the Roman legions, and that she was telling me I was getting the stew beat out of me.
She was right.
I noticed that every evening when the weather was nice, she went walking back toward the pond.
Then one evening in September just after school had started, I looked out the kitchen window. Sarah was walking up the new road to the back of the property. Trotting beside her for all the world like a big puppy was Vercingetorix. I couldn't believe it.
I definitely couldn't believe it when she stooped and scratched behind his plug-ugly tattered ears.
But I didn't say a word when she came into the kitchen. Sarah was always touchy about her accomplishments. Mentioning her conquest would most likely result in her ignoring Vercingetorix from then on.
I couldn't ignore her, however, the Saturday evening in October when she walked up on the patio with Vercingetorix lying on his back in her arms and purring like a lawnmower.
"You can pet him, Mommy," she said. "He likes it."
I reached out a tentative hand expecting to draw back a nub, not to mention having to put a tourniquet on my daughter's arm after he ripped if off. He didn't move. He merely screwed up his ruined boxer's face and purred even harder. It was though he'd discovered what he'd been missing during all his years of anti-human behavior and had decided to make up for lost time.
In the end I gave him his shots, but decided not to neuter him. I don't approve of unneutered feral cats, but he was one of the last members of a dying breed. He had a right to preserve his gene pool. He never became a house cat, but he certainly became a member of the family. He tolerated Eli's border terrier and held long conversations with my indoor cats through the kitchen screen door. He lazed on the patio and sat on all our laps for as long as we'd have him.
If he ever reproduced, we never saw any of his offspring. I like to think, however, that somewhere deep in the Wolf River bottoms at least a few big, ugly yellow cats are maintaining their territories and stalking straight across open fields in defiance of all the world.
Eli, Morgan, and even Kent from fish and wildlife told Sarah how remarkable socializing a thug like Vercingetorix was. She would only shrug and turn away in embarrassment. As with many innate talents, she saw no value in that particular gift.
I, on the other hand, would have given at least a couple of toes for even a tiny portion of her talent. I'm certain that she still has it, unless her refusal of her gift has resulted in atrophy.
Chapter 18
In which Maggie learns a lesson about elephants
Dr. Parmenter had usually been point man for the circus when it came to Memphis. That year he said he didn't feel up to it and recommended us. I was thrilled. I adored the circus, especially the elephants.
So Dr. Murchison, the vet who looked after the animals in their winter quarters, called me to check us out. "Heard good things about you," Dr. Murchison said. "Vachel Carey is a golfing buddy of mine."
I almost choked. "How is Vach?"
"He swears you have second sight."
"Oh, lord. If you golf with Vach, you know how he can be. I never know whether he's making fun of me or is deadly serious."
"In this case, I think he is deadly serious. He has told me numerous times about your extraordinary abilities with ultra-sound."
"Why me, Lord?"
"Listen, for a man who raises the most expensive Paint horses in the world to have a vet who can read ultrasounds the way you can is miraculous."
"You do realize what happened, don't you?"
For the first time Murchison chuckled. "You took an ultrasound to see if his foal was healthy. He asked you what color it was. You said black and white. The foal was born black and white. Therefore you have the sight."
"I meant the X-Ray photo was black and white."
"I know that and you know that, but we will never convince Vach."
I had tried to persuade Sarah and Nathan to go with me when I had to go down to the circus staging area.
Ten-year-old Sarah wrinkled her nose and said that was for babies.
Nathan, only eight, was thrilled. He'd been talking lately about becoming a vet himself, which thrilled me, even though he said he wanted to go to Africa or South America to practice.
So there I was a bona fide circus vet wearing spiffy new jeans and a snowy white lab coat, and showing my fancy badge to the security guard at the Memphis Coliseum where the circus had stopped for the week. He peered down at Nathan, then shrugged, passed us through and pointed us down the aisle toward the head elephant keeper, a Mickey Talbot.
Talbot had the look of a man who had spent his life around trains and sawdust. Whipcord thin, in disreputable jeans and a wom flannel workshirt, with a two-day growth of black beard, he looked me up and down with rheumy eyes. He reeked of tobacco smoke, and spoke with the sandpaper voice of a man who smokes and drinks as much and as often as he can manage.
"Who's the kid?"
I introduced Nathan who stuck out his hand. Talbot raised his eyebrows, but shook it. "Watch yourself, kid." Then he looked me up and down. "Lose the lab coat."
"I beg your pardon?"
"Lose it. What you got on under?"
"A turtleneck sweater."
"What color?"
"Blue." Behind him, I could see a dozen or so elephants each chained loosely to a single picket line by one front foot. Dr. Murchison told me that circus elephants were all Indian and female. I was dying to meet them. I knew Nathan was too.
But this Talbot guy was starting to piss me off.
"Go take that white coat off where they can't see you and come back," he said. "Leave your medical bag here. Kid'll be okay. They like kids."
"Why should I do that?"
"Doc, take a look behind me. That's Rosie on the end. Watch her."
Rosie was the biggest and most formidable animal I had ever been close to. This elephant and several past her were shifting from foot to foot and swinging their trunks rhythmically. Their beady eyes, however, were on me. I didn't read welcome in them.
Then Rosie reached over to the pile of hay next to her. A large hay shovel, big as a snow shovel but concave, stood on end in the pile.
With the delicacy of a surgeon selecting a scalpel, Rosie wrapped her trunk around the handle of the shovel, picked it up from the hay, and
laid it gently in front of her on its face.
She swung her head to look directly into my eyes, then slowly and deliberately set her left front foot on the back of the shovel.
I couldn't see any movement, but the metal screeched.
When Rosie removed her foot, the shovel was completely flat-a pancake looked like Mt. Everest compared to that shovel. I gulped.
"Mom," Nathan whispered. "Did you see that?"
"See, Doc, they recognize that coat,"Talbot said. "They know you're a vet and they don't like'em. Vets mean pain, and they don't like pain. So if I was you, I'd go where they can't see you and lose the coat."
I lost the coat. In my blue turtleneck and with Talbot's help, I carefully edged past the rhythmically swinging trunks down to the elephant on the end. Nathan stayed close on my coat tails. He pretended not to be scared, but I could hear him breathe.
"That's Helen. She's the one with the arthritis," Talbot said. "Has to have her shots every month like clockwork whether we're on the road or in Sarasota for the winter."
"Hello, Helen, I'm Maggie. I'll try not to hurt you."
She shifted. I held my ground. To his credit, so did Nathan.
Dr. Murchison had explained in detail how to get the heavy needle through the elephant's hide. Once it was in place I shot vial after vial of hyaluronic acid into Helen's shoulder. Talbot took the used vials from me. Helen seemed to understand that I was trying to help her. She stood stock-still and made no attempt to snatch the vials out of my hand or knock me down with her trunk.
After I finished and turned away, Helen touched my hair gently, then slid her trunk down and patted my shoulder. I froze, uncertain whether to be flattered or terrified. The others watched her.
"Sir," Nathan said, "Can I touch her?"
Talbot scowled down at Nathan. I was certain he was going to say no. Instead, he nodded. I wanted to say no myself, but I kept my mouth shut.
Nathan reached out and stroked her shoulder. "Nice Helen," he whispered. She ran her trunk over his head and down his shoulder. He giggled. "I can feel her breath. She tickles."
"Yeah. Come on, Doc, next patient."
As we followed Talbot back down the picket line, the elephants swung their trunks, but made no attempt to stomp us. The moment we were out of their sight, I wailed, "But I love elephants."
"Sorry, Doc." He shrugged. "You did good introducing yourself to Helen that way. See, elephants really do remember everything. They don't forget and they don't forgive. You mistreat an elephant and sooner or later you'll pay for it. Maybe twenty years later, but you'll get yours." He sat on a bale of hay and lit a cigarette.
"Can you smoke in here?"
"Nope. But I do. I got more sense than to set the hay on fire. Hell, I been with the circus nigh onto forty years. Been doing elephants for thirty. Them's my girls in there. Don't nobody treat'em bad."
"According to you, they can take care of themselves."
"If they get the chance. Chained up on the picket line, they can't stampede." Awreath of smoke encircled his grizzled buzz cut. He raised his eyebrows at Nathan. "That is unless they're in musth."
"I thought only male elephants went into musth," Nathan said.
"So you done your homework? Good for you. Females go into musth too, but lighter. Makes em cranky. Like PMS only bigger and meaner. I remember once..." he broke off and cut his eyes at me. Apparently my next patient could wait.
I suspected he was showing off for Nathan. I also suspected he was a master raconteur. I smiled and settled on the bale of hay opposite him. Nathan leaned against my knee. What else did we have to do on a beautiful October day?
"Back when I joined up and got put with the elephants, all this stuff about kindness to animals was just starting," Talbot said. "Folks said you had to hurt'em before they'd respect you. If they don't respect you, you better pray to God your insurance is paid up.
"Anyway, the head elephant man at that time was a real bastard-" He cut his eyes at Nathan. "A real bad characterwhen he was drinking. He'd cry and apologize to his girls afterwards, but I found old infected sores under their armpits from the elephant hooks..." Talbot shook his head. "Made me cry. I'd treat 'em, and try to keep 'em safe. They appreciated it, but I wasn't always there and I couldn't go up against the man without losing my job. He really had a hate on one big old bull name of Pauline. Said she reminded him of an old girlfriend. I finally reported him to the management. They read him the riot act, but let him stay. He didn't change.
"Anyway, he finally got hisself fired all on his own for being drunk and near about burning the tent down, and I got his job. Heard he took up being a keeper at some two-bit private zoo. Forgot all about him. Got my girls happy and healthy. In the winter they got this whole big pasture, and when they get too old to work, we know some elephant sanctuaries where they retire happy." He stubbed out his cigarette on the palm of his hand without evident discomfort, then began to field strip it.
"Then about five years ago, we was playing St. Paul, Minnesota. Afternoon show. Got time for the grand parade at the end. I don't go into the ring with the girls. Ain't dressed for it. The clowns and the roustabouts do that. Not that they need 'em. They know what they're supposed to do-carry the show girls around while they wave at the crowd.
"I'm in the back, see, standing at the exit watching. I always do that just in case. I see some fool come running down to the edge of the arena shouting and waving. The guards are after him, but they're a long way off.
"I didn't recognize him for a minute, then I saw it was old-well, I won't tell you his name. Still drunk. Still yelling at his girls.
"Jesus Christ, I says, and starts running. Pauline was the third elephant in line. I saw her drop the tail of the elephant in front of her, stop for a second and look around like she recognized his voice. I didn't know what to do. If he ran back up the stairs to get away from her, she was liable to climb into the audience after him.
"Didn't get the chance to make a decision. She swung out of line, trumpeted, and lashed out with her trunk. She knocked him out of the stands and onto the tanbark."
"What happened?" Nathan demanded eagerly. If there is one thing I have learned about little boys, it is that they are born bloodthirsty. Nathan was no different.
Talbot shrugged his shoulders. "Know how an elephant goes after something it really wants to kill? None of this stamp-on-the-shovel stuff like Rosie pulled on you. That was funning. Rosie does have a sense of humor.
"Pauline smacked him flat with her trunk. Everybodywas screaming. The showgirl riding Pauline was holding on for dear life, and the other elephants were heading for the exit at thirty miles an hour. I could see his eyes. He knew what was coming. Pauline went down on her knees and laid her forehead against his chest. Then she pushed down with all her weight."
I felt my gorge rising and looked at Nathan. His eyes were the size of Rosie's hooves.
"Gross," he said. "Did he pop?"
"Nathan! "
Talbot grinned. "Nope. He flattened. By the time I got to her with the hook, she'd finished. She got to her feet, gave his body one flick with her trunk, way you'd kick a bug out of your way, then she walked on around the ring toward the exit like nothing happened."
"What did they do to her?" Nathan asked.
"Please don't tell me they shot her," I begged.
"They wanted to. Bad publicity, they said. Scared people offcoming to the circus, they said. We had kind of a trial. I told 'em what all he'd done to Pauline all those years ago. They finally decided to send her to one of them sanctuaries free of charge." His eye took on a faraway look. "Heard she died a couple of years ago. Real peaceful. Good of Pauline." He glared at Nathan. "So, you see, boy, don't never mistreat a elephant."
I never knew whether Talbot's story was true. It didn't really matter. Legend or not, the inner truth was there laid out for any human being to read. Don't muck with the elephants.
I exhaled. The last thing Nathan needed was more ofTalbot's gory stories, alth
ough Nathan was loving every minute of it. "Who's our next patient?"
He stood up and eased his back. "We got another Rosie. This one's a hippo. She's got glaucoma. Have to take the pressure on her eyeball once a week and put drops in every day."
"Mr. Talbot, I can certainly take her pressure, but I don't have any idea what's normal for a hippo."
"That's all right. I do."
Rosie was a pgymy hippo who stood no higher than my waist, but still weighed at least a ton. Either she still had some vision, could smell Talbot or hear him, because she swung her head in his direction when we were still a good distance away. Then she opened her mouth.
I stopped dead. She might be a pygmy, but that maw was plenty large enough to hold me, and her teeth were eighteen inches long. She could bite mein two. "Stay well back, son," I told Nathan.
"Uh-huh," he whispered. Even he was impressed.
"It's okay, doc," Talbot said. "I'll keep the carrots and lettuce going down her gullet while you take her pressure. She's used to it."
He was as good as his word. I reported the pressure on the eyeball to him. "Good? Bad?"
"Bout the same." He tossed Rosie another cabbage and walked back toward the front of the arena.
"I'll give Dr. Murchison the results in my report to him. Now, if you don't have any other patients for me, I need to get back to my regular clients. Call me if you need anything."
"Will do. Thanks, doc." He grinned at Nathan. "You ought to see some of those big tough vets we get. Scared to death of my girls. You did good, boy."
Nathan talked non-stop all the way back home and was still driving Sarah crazy when I walked over to the clinic.
Eli had already finished for the day.
"There you are. Was it fun?"
"I'll tell you sometime. All I can say is, you better pray that their big cats stay healthy until they leave town. Elephants are dangerous enough. I am not playing Androcles to anybody's lion. If a lion gets a thorn in its paw, you're going to be the one to take it out."
All God's Creatures Page 13
