Mrs. MacCabe's Cats

The following is actually an enhancement, elaboration and compilation of stories of two such lovely elderly ladies I once knew... all names have been changed.



At 86 years old, Mrs. MacCabe, a proper Victorian lady, lived in the yellow and white cottage on the corner across from St. Andrew’s Anglican Church. Her husband died in 1952 in a boating accident and despite having several gentlemen callers, she remained true to the love of her life and never remarried.
She preferred the company of cats and she had three such companions, Pebble a large black and white fellow, Fat Freddy who lived up to his name and Gina, the shy little ginger cat that showed up at her back door one wintry Sunday morning after church.
Her summer afternoons were spent sitting on her porch, correctly attired in her lace blouse clasped tightly at her neck with the cameo broach her husband, Earl, brought back from Italy in 1945, pressed and pleated long gray skirt, thick support stockings and chunky heeled black shoes. The loose white curls on her head stirred softly in the breeze of the nearby lake as she sat drinking Earl Grey tea from her Royal Albert tea set. Nearby, her cats sipped milk from china saucers that had lost their matching cups.
Her closest neighbor, Thomas, who had moved into the village from up the lake, complained to everyone he met about that damn Fat Freddy who destroyed his flowerbed every chance he got. Thomas, however, would never mention Fat Freddy’s dreadful deeds to Mrs. MacCabe, knowing how mortified and upset she would be to think her beloved cat could be capable of pooping amongst the pansies and snapdragons in Thomas’s well cared for garden. Instead, he kept mum and chased Fat Freddy from his yard when Mrs. MacCabe wasn’t there to see.
It was in the darkest part of January last year when she didn’t show up at church that we realized something was amiss. Through out the morning’s service at every small sound that came from the vicinity of the broad oak doors, heads would turn in expectation of her arrival. No one could remember when she had missed a Sunday or had even been late.
At the end of the morning’s last hymn and closing prayer, two people attending worship who had seen her the day before, commented that she had looked pale and had a raspy cough. They quickly pulled on their coats and crossed the street to check on her.
They found her. Still in her blue flowered dressing gown and pink slippers, she sat silent in her overstuffed chair. Her chin resting on her chest and the little ginger cat curled in her lap. Her church going clothes were laid out neatly on the perfectly made bed. Pebble and Fat Freddy mewing persistently, weaved in and out between the parishioner’s legs. Mrs. MacCabe, and Gina were gone. It was as if Gina could not bear to be without her and in undying loyalty and love, accompanied her dear lady to heaven.
Fat Freddy and Pebble each went to stay with the two people who discovered them that sad day. Pebble later became the darling of the local retirement home. He resides there still, a nurturing presence amongst the elderly residents who lovingly stroke his velvet coat while enjoying the music of his purrs.
Two months after Mrs. MacCabe’s passing, I was combing through a basket of fabric remnants at our local thrift shop when I came across a plain, gray woolen scarf. I picked it up and was immediately met with a memory of her, wrapped in her brown winter coat, the gray scarf loosely wrapped around her neck, dressed as she was every Sunday morning when she came to church. I lifted the scarf to my nose and could still detect the faint scent of Coty’s White Shoulders, Earl’s favorite and the only perfume she ever wore.
I paid ten cents for the scarf and brought it home. I carefully cut it into several mouse shaped pieces, sewed up the seams, stuffed them with catnip I’d gathered the summer before, stitched them closed, and embroidered on faces. In memory of Mrs. MacCabe’s love for her feline companions, MouieWowies and Rattatudes were born… these are for you Fat Freddy, Pebble and Gina in heaven. You can see and acquire them at: http://www.plumentails.com/