The Cat Who Had 60 Whiskers

In the nineteenth century, Scottish shipbuilders had come to Moose County to build three-masted schooners using the two-hundred-foot pine trees for masts. When steam replaced sail, they turned to house building and did well, as attested by their mansions in Purple Point and their support of community projects. The senior center was to be their thank-you.

As for the property chosen, it had been a feed-and-seed depot and warehouse where farm wagons came to stock up. New modes of transportation had replaced it with several small depots around the county. The Old Hulk, as it was called, became a hangout for kids, feral cats, and who knows what else. Now, architects and builders were donating their expertise and theSomething was offering the coordinating services of Hixie Rice to the project pro bono.

Later that day, Qwilleran had a phone call from Hixie Rice.

“Guess what? The dog table is back!”

Early in the year an heirloom auction had been staged to raise money for furnishing the new Senior Health Club. Old families donated prized possessions—everything from porcelain teacups to rare items of furniture.

One such was a six-foot library table of ponderous oak construction with bulbous legs at one end; the other end was supported by a life-size carving of a basset hound. It was donated by the office manager of theSomething, inherited from her wealthy father.

Everyone said: “It weighs a ton! Bet she’s glad to get rid of it. Can she take it as a tax deduction? What’s it worth?”

At the auction an unidentified agent made a sealed bid and won the table for…ten thousand dollars! It left town on a truck for parts unknown.

Now the dog table was back!…donated to the Senior Health Club by an unidentified well-wisher.

Qwilleran asked, “How will it be used?”

“In the foyer, which is quite large. It’ll be a focal point, with magazines on top, and a table lamp…. May be we should have a cat lamp! An artist could do a sculpture of a cat sitting on his haunches and holding the socket in his paws! Do you think Koko would pose? Everybody would come to see our dog table and cat lamp!”

“Hang up!” Qwilleran said. “You’re hallucinating!”

THREE

Qwilleran was half an hour late in serving breakfast to the cats on Monday morning. They attacked their plates as if they had been deprived of food for a week. At one point, though, Koko raised his head abruptly and stared at a spot on the kitchen wall. In a few seconds the phone rang, and he returned to the business at hand.

The caller was Lisa Compton, retired academic and wife of the school superintendent. She was also the chief volunteer at Edd Smith’s Place, where preowned books were sold for charitable causes.

“Qwill, a chauffeur from Purple Point just brought in a box of books that made me think of you.”

“The statement raises questions,” he said.

“You’ll love them! They’re all pocket-size hardcovers—the kind they had before paperbacks. Convenient for reading to the cats—and really quite attractive. Some have decorative covers and gold-printed titles on the spines.”

“What kind of titles?”

“All classics.Kidnapped, Lorna Doone, Uncle Tom’s Cabin …and authors like Guy de Maupassant, Henry James, and Mark Twain.”

Qwilleran said, “Don’t let them get away from you! I’ll be right there!”

“May I make a suggestion? Since the box is rather large, you should park in the north lot and come to the back door. It leads right downstairs into Edd Smith’s Place.”

Qwilleran liked Lisa. She always thought everything through—not only selling him the books but figuring the easiest way of getting them to his car.

“And by the way, Qwill, there’s some Lit Club business to discuss. If you have time.” She used a formal voice that indicated the other volunteers were listening. “Do you have a few minutes?”

Always interested in a little intrigue, he said, “See you in ten minutes.”

Later, in the private meeting room, Lisa said in a low voice, “This is not for publication, but I’m giving up volunteer work and taking a paid job as manager of the Senior Health Club.”

“Well!” he said in astonishment. “I’m shocked—and pleased! What does Lyle think about it?”

“He thinks the club is very lucky to get me.”

“I agree!”

“It’s a big job of coordination: scheduling activities, handling memberships, finding instructors, finding new ideas—”

“Lisa, you’re the only one who can do it. Let me know if there’s anything that I can do to help.”

Famous last words, he thought on the way back to the barn. What am I getting into?

Qwilleran collected Famous Last Words and had his readers contributing them too. Someday, he told them, the K Fund might publish a collection. There were examples like:

“You don’t need to take an umbrella…. It’s not going to rain.”

“The Road Commission says the old wooden bridge…is perfectly safe!”

“Let’s not stop to buy gas…. We’re only driving over the mountain.”

And for every gem that was printed, he gave the proud contributor a fat yellow lead pencil stampedQwill Pen in gold—trophies that were treasured.