Russell's Cat

Russell's cat, a mammoth beast well over 40 pounds but as agile and quick as a mouse, had the unfortunate name of Tommy, Russell's first born son. This was a constant irritation to Tommy's mother who had argued against it til she ran out of words but her husband was adamant - the cat, he pointed out, had been there first and was entitled to keep his name. It's a matter of first come, first serve, Norah, he told her calmly, And the cat came before the boy. Norah took to throwing things at him - a bowl of soup, a flower pot, an eggbeater - but Russell's instincts were much like the cat's and he dodged each flying object. Norah soon gave up the practice, it was costly and caused the arthritis in her shoulder and elbow to flare up with each pitch. Besides, she complained to Nana, I can't hit the broad side of a barn even in daylight.

No one knew the actual origin of the cat. Russell had discovered him while hunting in the woods behind the lighthouse and though not normally a man known for his compassion to animals - not that he was cruel, he simply considered them extraneous and on the whole unnecessary - he had taken pity on the scruffy little thing and tossed it into his shoulder pack, thinking that perhaps it might make a decent mouser for the barn, if it survived. And survive it did, reaching 20 pounds before it was a year old and becoming somewhat of a legend around the village.
One of the summer doctors even speculated that it might be some kind of a crossbreed, certainly no one had ever encountered a cat of that magnitude and who knew what might be lurking in the woods. The cat continued to grow and thrive, becoming largely self sufficient, earning its keep as an unparalleled mouser and sometimes as a tourist attraction. All muscle! Russell would declare proudly, Not an ounce of fat on him! And it was true, Tommy was enormous but trim and tight and as healthy as a thoroughbred. Russell made a small but steady income by renting him out to mouse for neighbors and by taking him to town to sleep in McIntyre's window on Saturdays when the summer people shopped. Tommy was amiable to all the attention and for a nickel Russell would allow the children to hold him, provided they could pick him up without adult help. The huge cat submitted without the first protest, frequently offering up a stunning, vibrating purr that could be heard clear to the front doors.

Norah, having been raised to be independent-minded and clear thinking, had been warned about all the things that might make claim on her new husband's attentions. She had not, however, foreseen having to compete with a cat, even one as well known as Tommy grew to be and it took several years of flying debris and many a harsh word before she came to accept the cat's place in her husband's life. If the cat harbored similar reservations, he kept them to himself - as cats are inclined to do - and in the fullness of time, woman and cat reached a mutual understanding, each allowing the other the illusion of being in control.

Russell was well pleased.