Nine Lives to Die

Gray skies dimmed the glare from the snow, which now sported a crust on top. Foxes, raccoons, and possums could walk on it without sinking into deep powder and struggling. Occasionally a small animal would hit a drift, fall in, and scramble out, but for the most part travel was easy, with the occasional slip here and there.

Having been holed up in their dens, or wherever they’d made a nest, everyone was hungry. The birds that hadn’t flown south had built their nests with care in protected tree hollows. No one built a den or nest facing northwest, although the clever foxes might put an escape route in that direction.

Monday, December 9, was cloudy and cold. It would have been frigid if skies were clear.

Mrs. Murphy, Tucker, and a grumbling Pewter headed out from the barn. In the pastures, Tucker, being heavier than the cats, used deer trails. The three animals moved west toward the swift-running creek between Harry’s farm and that of Reverend Herbert Jones. As St. Luke’s offered beautiful living accommodations, Reverend Jones rented his old home place to Cynthia Cooper. Like so many Virginia farms, the clapboard house and small barn had been built to stand for centuries and did. The Jones place cornerstone, laid in 1811, had withstood two wars on Virginia territory, blizzards, sleet storms, hurricanes, a few small tornadoes, and, as always, the searing summer sun.

The three friends perched on a fallen tree trunk next to the creek. Although the trunk was snow-covered, it was a comfortable spot. One flat end on the ground was easy for the corgi.

Upstream, the edges of the ice-encased beaver dam glittered. The sides of the creek were also ragged with ice, testament to the frigid temperatures.

A little puff of breath rose up as Mrs. Murphy spoke. “Beavers carry so much fat. I bet they never really feel the cold.”

“Just like Pewter,” Tucker ungraciously replied.

Fat though she was, Pewter’s reflexes were lightning fast. She whacked Tucker so hard the dog fell off the log and began sliding into the creek. The ice along the banks cracked, but the dog, with a mighty pull, managed to haul herself up.

Fangs bared, she threatened, “I could grab you by the neck.”

“Ha.” The gray butterball nonchalantly closed her eyes for a moment.

Watching a coyote, Mrs. Murphy suddenly shot off the log, heading east.

“What’s gotten into her?” Pewter’s eyes widened. Never one to miss any event if possible, the gray cat tore out after her friend, bits of snow flying off her claws.

The corgi followed, somewhat slowed down when she veered off to a deer path.

Now smelling the heavy scent of the coyote, Tucker barked loudly.

The unconcerned marauder loped off, carrying in his jaws the bones of an intact human arm from the elbow down. A bracelet hung at the wrist.

Pewter caught up with the tiger cat. “Are you crazy, running after a coyote?”

“He has a prize. He’s not interested in me.” Mrs. Murphy searched the snow, saw the shiny object that had caught her attention, and walked over. “I saw the arm, saw something slide off.”

Pewter reached out to pat a gold bracelet: a simple band of hammered gold with a small buckle.

Tucker plowed through the snow. “Murph, don’t you ever do that again!” Seeing the bracelet, she put her nose on it. “Nothing.”

“Considering it slid off bones, I doubt there’d be any scent.” The tiger cat inspected the lovely gold object. “Nothing else on it.”

“What would be on it?” Pewter was now intrigued, which held off any complaints about the cold.

“Oh, you know now how humans write all over stuff. ‘Love Forever’ or initials, silly stuff like that. This is gold and it’s heavy. Expensive.”

“Maybe that’s why it fell off the bone. Heavy,” Tucker opined. “It was my barking that did it.”

The two cats humored her. “Of course.”

The motion probably jostled the lovely gold bracelet off.

“Let’s leave it here.” Pewter’s stomach growled.

“No.” Mrs. Murphy considered its value. “We’ll hide it in the tack room. Someday it might prove useful.”

“Give it to Mom.” Tucker knew Harry would like it. Their human admired simple, well-designed things.

“Not yet,” said Mrs. Murphy. “Let’s hide it, then figure out how to give it to her for Christmas. She’ll be shocked.” Ever practical, Mrs. Murphy had already hit upon a use for the late-nineteenth-century bracelet.

“That’s a good idea,” the dog agreed. “She likes jewelry. This looks like something good.”

“Then you two can take turns carrying it,” grumbled Pewter. “I’m not putting metal in my mouth in this cold.” She made for the barn, a half mile distant.

Tucker and Mrs. Murphy did just that, taking turns. Finally reaching the tack room, they considered hiding places.

“Can’t put it behind the tack trunk—the mice will steal it.” Pewter offered good advice, from her vantage point on the desk, for the mice would carry off anything they could.

“How about this pile of clean saddle pads?” Tucker walked over to the white square sheepskin pads.

“What if she pulls out a pad?” Mrs. Murphy could hear the mice scurrying behind the tack trunk. The tiger cat inclined her head toward the trunk.

Pewter jumped up, sweeping her right paw down behind it.

A mouse ducked in and a chorus of mice sang out, “Fatty, fatty.”

“I’ll kill you. I’ll crush your skull!” Ever sensitive to what she deemed fat-phobia, Pewter spat.

An old velvet-covered riding hard-hat helmet lay on its side on the floor, along with worn paddock boots and other items that Harry intended to repair or clean.

Mrs. Murphy carried the bracelet over, pulled the helmet lining out a bit with one long claw, dropped the bracelet inside, and released her claw. The bracelet had disappeared.

“That will do for now. You two remember where this is. We can fetch it Christmas Eve.”

“What if she uses that helmet?” Tucker asked.

“The covering is all ripped to shreds,” replied the tiger cat. “She uses that helmet hanging on the peg. She’s been talking about getting this recovered for a year.” Mrs. Murphy was confident she’d found the right hiding place.

Tucker smiled. “This will be the best Christmas present.”

“What a surprise,” Pewter added.