I went with Daddy to pick up some paint at the hardware store, and he decided to take the scenic route home. The scenic route for him usually went by the beer store and today was no exception.
The case of Old Milwaukee sat on the seat between us.
He was in a good mood that day and the scenic route took us through a tree-shaded part of town I was not familiar with. As we drove slowly through the neighborhood, the houses seemed to get larger and further back from the road. The lawns were thick St. Augustine grass, and the pecan trees were tall.
“I can’t imagine how much money it takes to water a yard like that in this heat,” he said. “Much less run that air conditioning all day and night.”
Our house was smaller than any of these and Momma never turned the air on until the house got hot in the middle of the day. The yard I had to mow every Saturday was patchy Bermuda grass and stickers most of the summer, but we did have some post-oak trees for shade.
I heard a loud yowling noise, and Daddy hit the brakes. We both thought he had hit some poor animal, but then I saw the cats.
One of them was flat down on the ground and making that God-awful sound. The other was biting her on the back of the neck and trying to get on top of her.
Daddy said, “Nothing like a cat in heat to rattle the windows – if not for that air conditioner, those people would be looking out to see what was the matter.” He pulled over to the side of the street and parked, opening a beer. “You ever seen cats screwing before?” he asked.
The thought that the cats were mating had not crossed my mind. “Uh… no.”
“Then we’ll take a little break to get you a lesson in biology today, boy.”
He sipped from the beer and eased back in the seat, looking at the mating cats.
“See, she has her business all hot and inflamed, and he can smell it on the air. He’ll come from blocks away sniffing and getting more excited as he goes…” His voice became a background murmur, as I heard the locusts start to sing and the yowling of the cats.
I heard the breeze through the tall pecan trees and the ticking of the cooling engine. I was transfixed by the sight of the cats, in a flowerbed under a crape myrtle tree covered with pink flowers. The activity continued with much thrashing about and noise. I heard a blue jay screech above me, and in the distance a crow’s caw.
For a second I was immersed in nature, and the wind, and the sun, and the animals and plants were all brighter somehow, more in focus. It all was connected in that instant.
I looked along the line of vision from my eye to the cats. In a direct line, and looking through a backyard fence, saw a golden retriever as spellbound as I was with the flowerbed commotion.
In a moment that crystallized in time, the dog looked at me, and I looked back at the dog.
We both glanced at the cats, and then back at each other. As our eyes met the second time we both looked away quickly.
The spell was broken, and Daddy was still talking, about how she could have kittens with all different fathers, and how she would come back into heat as soon as the litter was weaned.
It appeared that the tomcat had finally found his target, and with a quick almost vibrating motion he was through. He walked away and started grooming himself. The female was still squirming in the zinnias, knocking some of them down as she rolled around. The dog had disappeared.
I was embarrassed for the cats, for some reason, and for the dog, and for myself. I was embarrassed for Daddy, although he clearly was not. I was confused at the beauty of the moment, and the feeling of embarrassment and shame. Not shame for me, or the cats, or about the sex, but shame at having been caught looking.
The cats were not ashamed to perform in some rich lady’s zinnias. Daddy wasn’t ashamed to see it, or to talk about it to me. I had seen other animals doing the same thing, and knew the names of all the parts and the actions, both the acceptable and the vulgar names.
I don’t know why I should feel ashamed. But as well as I know my own name, I know the dog knows why.
© Ed Townley