LITTLETOWN, NB (OCTOBER 20, 1999)
The name speaks for itself-- Littletown.
Far away from the bright lights and big city feel of nearby Lincoln, folks here live in the shadow of God, country, and tradition. It is the latter that has come under fire today; for you see, while cats worldwide rejoice over their newfound ability to breathe underwater in exchange for three of their nine lives, people of Littletown will be mourning the end of the town's yearly festival-- Cat Drowning Days.
Since 1906, Cat Drowning Days has been the thread linking Littletown's past to its present and, until today, its future. It all began one hot August day when a group of friends, bored out of their minds, decided it would be fun to drown a bunch of cats. From those humble beginnings sprang forth an annual festival that is fourth largest in Briar County, twenty-seventh largest in the state.
Reaction to today's announcement was as predictable as the menu at Ma's Coffee Shop. "Goddam Hollywood Jew lawyer with his fancy clothes and schoolin', thinkin' he can tell us what to do with our cats! T'ain't right, ah tell ya, t'ain't!", said an obviouly frustrated Jeb ("no last name, just call me Jeb").
Jeb and I took a small step into Ma's Coffee Shop and took a giant leap into Littletown's tradition of cat drowning. The walls offer up a rich history of dignitaries and celebrities partaking in Cat Drowning Days. From former President Reagan to the Rolling Stones to Jeb's personal favorite, Sammy Davis Jr., rich and poor, famous and infamous, old and young have celebrated Cat Drowning Days.
"Took part in mah first Drownin' Day when I was pert near five years old. Been drownin' 'em ever since. We've been drownin' cats through two world wars and now..." Jeb's voice trailed off as his pale blue eyes betrayed him momentarily. Then, noticing a small boy holding a kitten, his voice rose, "What about the youngins? Whose gonna look into that poor kid's eyes and tell 'im he can't bag up that kitten and baptize it!?!" (ed. note: the slang term for cat drowning is "baptizing").
The small boy, hearing the commotion, came over and politely shook my hand and introduced himself as Tommy Jr., son of Mayor Tommy Shanks.
"Don't worry, Jeb, Mr. Reporter, we can still beat them against a rock, can't we?", he said as only a small town boy can.
Jeb and I smiled at each other as Ma warmed up my bottomless cup of Joe.
It just goes to show you that traditions may come and go, but the optimism of a child will last forever. At least it will in Littletown, Nebraska.