Phantoms

by Jack Cady

  If one keeps in mind the main characteristics of cats it is possible to live comfortably beside them, although my observation suggests that such a life is like living in a mild stage of siege. Along with other characteristics, cats are devious.

  Not many days have passed since I heard the unhappy tale that follows, a tale made even sadder because it promises to be unending. It came through chance acquaintance on a playfield. The Poodle’s name is Jacques Jean Louis, a graduate of one of the most prestigious obedience schools in the nation; a school not named here because Louis, I am sad to report, momentarily discredited it. No opprobrium attaching to the distressed Jacques Jean should reflect on his alma mater. But, let me report the sad affair in his own words, for it seems that I can nearly see him now as he rested on mown grass (and not among weeds which might have contributed burrs to his gleaming white coat). It actually seems that I can hear his voice, albeit thanks to his mellifluous French accent, he delicately spiced his story with an herbs garni of "Mon ami’s", "Mon chere’s" and an "Au contraire!" now and again. Put in proper English here is the essence of it:

  "In a whimsical moment, but with all good intent, I adopted a cat. This was a big bull cat, one of the stripey kind that one sees guarding the back entrances of bistros, or sitting in the cheap seats at soccer games. I know something of the nature of cats, n’est pas?—and therefore named him Gladstone. I knew from the beginning that there would be a few problems, but figured I was dog enough to handle them. Gladstone was at first a welcome addition to my pack which also includes the humans Bastion (a rather large fellow) and Twinque (especially light on her feet). When the four of us rested around the fireplace on cold winter evenings it seemed that life could offer little more in the way of comfort and joy.

  "Gladstone, however, was of a cat’s normally devious nature. I recall his initial approach on a spring day when Bastion was out wandering through side streets, and Twinque played hostess to a bridge party that was a-slap with cards, a-tinkle with tea things, and a-chirp with the voices of female humans; altogether a combination of light and wholesome sounds.

  "‘Louis, old chap’, said Gladstone (who is something of an anglophile) ‘are you up for a bit of sport?’ He then explained that he knew a nearby spot where the hunting was ‘a rum go.’

  "No Poodle ever born could turn down a good hunt. I was intrigued. I supposed that Gladstone had located a covey of raccoon, or the cave of a bear. I forgot that no game is too petite for a cat.

  "He led me to the back of a neighbor’s house where sat a motley pile of boards. ‘Louis, old man, just you climb onto the stack and bounce. Let us see what comes to pass.’ He then trotted about twenty paces from the stack, went into a crouch, and his tail flicked like a quartermaster’s semaphore.

  "And I, like a fool, jumped onto the stack and bounced. I expected a porcupine to emerge, or perhaps one of the smaller catamounts; or, was it too much to hope for the emergence of a fox?

  "Instead, there was a series of small shrieks, and then a cacophony of squeaks. At the very moment that I realized I had been taken, a gray flash tumbled from beneath the boards and dashed across the lawn to the accompanying cry from Gladstone of, ‘Tally Ho, the mouse!’

  "A tawdry scene ensued. Gladstone easily captured the mouse which he held pinned by the tail.

  "‘Topping good show, lad,’ Gladstone said to me. To the mouse he said, ‘Bit of a shame, chum. But, you’re in time for lunch.’

  "In all of my days of hunting I have never encountered a creature so bold as that mouse. He looked into Gladstone’s eyes, and pity shone from his own.

  "The mouse made explanations. He claimed himself sole support of a family of seventy-three, and he claimed to have a number of incurable ailments of which all were transmissible through stomach lining, and he claimed to have a secret treasure to which only he could draw a map. The mouse waxed eloquent. He claimed close friendship with the chief of police. He asserted that certain members of the Mafia would greatly resent it if he turned up missing. He was passionate, intense, and magnificently persuasive. As I turned away in disgust, I heard Gladstone saying, ‘Ah well, then, matey, perhaps we can cut a deal.’

  "Even then I did not realize that the affair was a highly sophisticated set-up. Who would ever dream that a cat and mouse were capable of collusion? In disgust, nay revulsion, I repaired to the house. The bridge party was at full tinkle. The female humans were having a wonderful time. As I stood in the doorway to the living room and watched the players at their game, I did not sense the shadow of Gladstone (who carried the mouse gently in his mouth) approach from behind.

  "‘Shipwreck,’ muttered Gladstone, in what was obviously a code. He released the mouse which ran between my legs and into the living room. At the same time Gladstone gave me a small poke in the behind, and naturally I jumped forward. As I jumped, the mouse began a dizzying performance. He scampered here, there, amid shrieks and flurries, among falling playing cards and between running feet as the humans fell over themselves getting out of his way.

  "And I, knowing my duty although detesting it, gave chase. The mouse dashed up the draperies, a small gray streak against blue velvet; and from the top of the draperies did a swan dive onto the back of an easy chair. The mouse stood on that chairback as on a stage while singing a few bars from The Hallelujah Chorus. He sang most lustily, then made a lewd gesture as he ducked beneath my hurtling form. I came down in a plate of avocado dip, while the mouse disappeared through the now open doorway. Gladstone sat leering.

  "And so ended my days of quiet joy. My leadership of the pack has been challenged. My humans are confused, and the detestable Gladstone now tries to pre-empt my favorite spot beside the fireplace. I do not know how long it will take to once more cement my friendship with Twinque; and worse, I fear that I’ve not seen the end of duplicity in my pack. Gladstone is not ill-named. Mon Dieu!"

  Louis, poor fellow, then wandered off muttering to himself. He was not the first Poodle ever betrayed by a cat, and he will doubtless not be the last; for Poodles are a rather innocent breed, although their courage is never in doubt.

  Perhaps most of Louis’ troubles might have been avoided by following a few principles that would have kept the relationship within the bounds of civility. These are:

  there are two kinds of cats; indoor and garbage can. The indoor cat amuses herself by being svelte. The garbage can cat specializes in raids. You can get along with either by addressing their interests. It pays to regard the indoor cat as a mere ornament, and the garbage can cat as a vagrant.

  scout the terrain and know your territory. Cats are notorious for lying in wait and cuffing the innocent passer-by. They claim to do this in the missionary spirit of keeping dogs on their toes, but one suspects some sort of low self-gratification.

  when a cat hops onto a human’s lap it is important to exhibit no signs of jealousy. One may chuckle, but not sneer. The cat knows that you know what is going on, and the human knows that you know what is going on, and you and the cat know that the human knows—in other words, the whole business is a stalking horse. If the cat cannot make you jealous it will hop off that lap and try other methods.

  never argue. The feline point of view is generally warped, and the cat will force you to take the moral high ground. The moment that happens, the cat will declare itself the winner on the basis that you are not practical.[8]

  it is a waste of time to chase a cat. If you catch one you’ll find that you really do not want it. If you tree one, then it will be the treed cat, and not you, who gets all the attention.

  when cats yowl at night you should remain quiet, dignified, and aloof. The automatic comparison between your conservative behavior, and their loss of all claim to decency, will become obvious.

  Control

  catnip: can be one of your best friends. Keep a small supply in reserve while hoping that the cat waits for a rainy day before becoming too obnoxious. Leave a light trail of catnip from living room to outer door that should be open. Wit
h a little luck, and superb timing, it is possible to arrange for kitty to take a real bath.

  while power plays are usually poor tactics, you can always control a cat by threatening to spread its kitty litter about the house. No cat wishes to get blamed for this, and no human will ever dream that the dog did it. Use only as a last resort.

  The Dog Who Owned a Harley

  A Cautionary Tale

  Jackson J. Jodphers was a confirmed car chaser throughout his callow youth, and by the time he gained his full weight and strength had become an errant rogue who ignored his cultured training. His lack of manners, and generally dissolute performances were the principal sorrows of his parents. His mother, Prudence Elizabeth (nee Adams of the New England Adams), was a quiet and retiring Great Dane, while his father, Chesley, took pride in being a gentlemanly Doberman of the old school.

  The opinion of all decent dogs held that Jodphers’s destiny lay beneath the wheels of a pink ’57 Rambler, or perhaps something not quite so quaint. No garbage can within ten miles was safe from him, and his collection of clothing dragged from clotheslines became legendary. Jodphers bragged on any and all street corners that he had persuaded entire litters of pups away from the paths of righteousness, and onto the straight and easy road that carried aught but high times and Hell’s Angels. It was a Hell’s Angel, in fact, who contributed to Jodphers’s undoing.

  When he finally got around to adopting a human, Jodphers chose the hottest motorcycle in town, and resolved to take whatever human came with it. That human carried the appellation of Goat Breath Jones, a man famed and feared throughout the countryside. With Jodphers in a sidecar, and with Goat Breath dressed in leathers, the two were a diabolic sight before which even the sheriff fled.

  Night after night, and through the wee hours of morn, dogs huddled in their houses as the sharp crack of the Harley roared beside the howling of Jodphers and the crazed shrieks of Goat Breath. The two cruised highways and byways, and became familiar in roadhouses and other bawdy places. If a dime store was robbed of its candy, or a meat market of sausages, heads wagged and paws pointed to Jodphers and Goat Breath. The Harley, although never asked for an opinion, or giving one, was also held culpable.

  A dissolute life is usually short, but among some scamps and scalliwags a distorted worldview functions like vitamins. Instead of meeting a wretched end, the duo used their travels to gather a pack of followers. Before long Goat Breath and Jodphers were selling motorcycles and sidecars. The business grew. Soon the entire county blazed with yells and howls and the snapping of bike engines. Just before the authorities moved in, Jodphers and Goat Breath moved out.

  They now live on a ranch in west Texas, where they run cattle, and indulge in every luxury. Theirs is a gold-plated existence, but crudity has taken its toll. From his climate-controlled doghouse, Jodphers occasionally strolls; and for long moments he sometimes sorrows over what might have been, for he knows he has lost touch with common dogdom and his roots.

  The Moral

  This tragedy of moral corruption carries the stern and awful message: "You can’t go home again." Perhaps even worse, when you try to go home again, you may end up in west Texas. To avoid traveling down the road to gilt-plated obscurity, it is well to memorize the following principles:

  never court a friendship based on material possessions. If Jodphers had been willing to settle for a Honda, he would no doubt have found a companion of slightly higher quality.

  always dare to dream. Why, one wonders, did Jodphers not aspire to a Triumph, or, lacking that, a BMW?

  The Car

  Your people have gone to a bit of expense in furnishing you with your auto. The thoughtful dog will wish to set an example of care and maintenance. The exterior may be disregarded, inasmuch as only the most raffish dogs actually chase cars or engage in other mongrel behaviors. If tires are to be watered it should be done in an unostentatious manner at curbside while the machine is not moving.

  On the other paw, the interior of the car is quite another matter. A simple checklist will allow you to keep the auto in tip top condition for as many as two or three weeks. Your behavior will also reflect credit on those who ride with you.

  nose prints: while it is essential that the nose be pressed against glass when riding, the thoughtful dog will place nose prints only around the borders of windows. This allows the driver a clear view to sides and rear. If you are a larger dog, please recall that your bulk should only block the driver’s view before and after—but not during—lane changes.

  open windows: when riding with the head out the window it is courteous to defer your position to the back seat. This will show other passengers that they are appreciated, and it will protect the seat covers. After all, even the most discreet among us will release at least some slobber into the windstream, and your people probably do not need their faces washed.

  rest stops: are designed for canine research. Proceed to the pet area with dignity and self-control. You know ahead of time that it will be impossible to read all messages imprinted on grass and trees and refuse containers. While your human engages in idle conversation, such as: "Hurry up" and "If we don’t get going soon we’ll hit commuter traffic," take your time and savor a few of the messages. Remember that intense and careful research of a small area is much better than generalizations covering a complete hill or dale.

  comforting: the driver during a traffic jam. A simple lick behind the ear will elicit sufficient response to determine the driver’s mood. If the driver is crabby, take a nap. If the driver giggles, then another lick may be appropriate.

  barking: indiscriminate barking is an embarrassment to all involved, thus barking should be limited to occasions of joy or warning. One is almost obligated to bark while on the way to a picnic, and one should certainly let the world know about the presence of cats sitting on porches, but barking at funeral processions simply is not done.

  woofing: carries a good deal more authority than barking, and should only be used to assist the driver. When parallel parking, for example, one really should center oneself on the seat and peer though the back window. Woof with authority. This will clear the way for your driver.

  defense: when defending the car it is well to remember that one can get caught up in the enthusiasm of the moment. Try to claw your way through the upholstery on only the most important occasions. What follows is a list in descending importance:

  Pekinese in another car sneers.

  Great Dane passes along sidewalk while minding his own business.

  Kindergarten class on field trip to fire station.

  Stewardess pulling luggage carrier that contains a suitcase.

  Covey of ducks strolling in park.

  Urchin stealing hub caps.

  Suspicious looking stranger lifting hood.

  And always remember that the armrest may be used as a headrest, but should never be mistaken for a rawhide bone.

  The Veterinary Visit

  It is the rare dog who actually enjoys a trip to the veterinary, but such trips are necessary. It is true that they are tedious, but is also true that some dogs have come to regard them as frightening. Because of mixed emotions, it too often happens that otherwise respectable dogs make a dreadful fuss about ‘The Vet’ who, they declare: "Is not my friend and never will be and I am going to brace myself against the posts of doorways never to be moved vetward world-without-end." Such dogs strike me as namby-pamby, incapable of understanding duty, and are decidedly lacking in pride; for there are few other times in life when we may so truly encourage others by our display of elegant manners.

  If a visit to the veterinary is broken down into its several parts, it will be easy for the sophisticated dog to analyze and develop the finest manners for all varieties of veterinary situations:

  Preparing for the trip

  you notice that your human is behaving deviously. My Rags, for example, always begins to whistle Tangerine, and Miss Lovely dons socks that carry happy pictures of giraffes or pink pigs. Odd acti
ons always mean a trip to the Vet so prepare your mind. Think noble thoughts; pretend you are an English Bulldog. It may help to mutter such things as ‘make a good go of this, chum’ or ‘stiff upper lip, old chap.’

  Remember that your human already feels horrid, and you have little reason to complicate the situation. Tell yourself that the universe is really rather large, and this matter is actually a bit small from a celestial point of view. Do not:

  Cower beneath the bed (one does encounter dust kittens)

  Hide in the cellar

  Roll onto your back and scream

  Run up walls and across ceilings.

  once in the car silence is the best option. Silence allows you to brood, and it may well render your human both guilty and thoughtful. If your human is sufficiently thoughtful, some very nice things may happen after the visit.

  Arriving

  step from the automobile with dignity. If anyone is to betray nervousness, let it be your human. They are, as we all know, fairly emotional.

  keep your human at heel. They tend to bolt at the last minute.

  The Waiting Room

  you are here for a booster shot, but remember that others may actually feel ill. Do not bounce.

  if other humans exclaim, ‘What a sweet dog. How pretty. What kind is she? What is her name?’ bear with it. They may be under stress and their clamor may be doing them some good.

  be cordial. Exchange pleasantries with any other dogs, but do not inquire about their health. There is always a chance they will wish to discuss personal affairs about which you really do not wish to know.

  if cats are present it is the worst possible manners to sneer, or go "n’yah, n’yah, n’yah." It is cruel to scoff because the creatures have far-and-away enough problems even when they are in good health.

  The Examination Room

  the vet’s hand is not a pork chop, you know that. In addition, aggressive tactics betray low breeding.

  when receiving a shot one should adopt a military stance while retaining a wholesome state of mind. Repeat to yourself something on the order of "Dad drat the torpedoes . . ." etc.