Sir Thomas of Argyle, Bane of Mice (10)

From THE OFFICIAL TRAVELOGUE OF SIR THOMAS CAT, ESQUIRE

Translated from the Meowish.
Copyright May 1983


This story is dedicated to my husband's Aunt Eleanor Campbell Taylor and Uncle Rumsey Taylor, Sr., of Princeton, Kentucky, USA, in whose home the enchantment of Inveraray is alive and well on this side of the Atlantic. May the rest of us who come along after be able to carry on and never lose that enchantment forever.

[Part 10]

And that is how the Duchess of Argyle came to receive her first ermine collar, a gift from the Duke, Chief Maynard, Dr. Woolsey, and Sir Thomas Cat. It made the collar all the more precious to her that so much ingenuity on the part of the former three, and so much suffering on the part of Sir Thomas, had made the trophy possible. Sir Thomas, meanwhile, had recovered sufficiently to leave the stone barn's veterinary area and to come back into the castle for her return. The Duke and Duchess invited Chief Maynard and his wife, Dr. Woolsey and his wife and children, and a few other close friends over to celebrate Sir Thomas's recovery and the now conclusive discovery of ermine in the area.

For the occasion, Sir Thomas was given his very  own chair among the high-backed navy velvet chairs at the linen-bedecked banquet table on the first floor, and sat just to the left of the Duchess. Sir George was assigned the chair to the left of Thomas, and was accompanied by his family, the Duke and Duchess of Loch Tul and their young son who, at around age ten, felt the watchtower would make a splendid hideout. The Duke made a stirring speech about old friends, new fortunes, and the inestimable value of cats. At the very end he gave a toast, "Here's to mud in the rye and a mouse under the eye!"

"Mud in the rye," which is an assurance of a good crop, symbolized good fortune to guests who raised grain, while "a mouse under the eye" meant a good fight now and then for guests who knew boxing as a sport. More than that, it meant the simple pleasures of home to those who owned good mousing cats. Since then, unfortunately, the Duke has been misquoted badly, and some people to this day say, "Here's to mud in the eye," thinking they are quoting the Duke.

The correct toast is still painted on a board above the serving area in Watchtower Restaurant in Scotland. Cats who visit there may dine on spring mousling virtually any time of year, thanks to freezing procedures and the occasional drop of packages by the Kildae Aire tranport service from the Hebrides. In the gift shop guests are allowed to purchase Argyle paw covers if they suffer from cold pawpads, or if their masters play golf, or if they simply want to remember that they, too, have visited Inveraray. The label reads: "Paw covers first designed for Sir Thomas of Argyle. Bane of Mice, Stoats, and Ermine. Wash in cold water and dry by the fire slowly."  (end)

Sir Thomas of Argyle, Bane of Mice (9)

From THE OFFICIAL TRAVELOGUE OF SIR THOMAS CAT, ESQUIRE

Translated from the Meowish.
Copyright May 1983


This story is dedicated to my husband's Aunt Eleanor Campbell Taylor and Uncle Rumsey Taylor, Sr., of Princeton, Kentucky, USA, in whose home the enchantment of Inveraray is alive and well on this side of the Atlantic. May the rest of us who come along after be able to carry on and never lose that enchantment forever.

[Part 9]

Placing his feet in a firm stance on the stone steps, Chief Maynard heaved his weight toward the door, almost tripping as it suddenly pryed loose from the casing.

"We'll, I'll be a three-toed sloth on Sweet Afton!" exclaimed Chief Maynard, uttering a mixture of his crossword puzzle answers and barber shop quartet song lyrics. as he tended to do when startled. He motioned for the Duke to come and see.

"Ermine!" they both said at the same time to each other.

There in the middle of the watchtower floor was an ermine, torn and dead. Sir Thomas had been catching stoats--ermine in their brown summer coats, which make them resemble their weasel cousins--all summer long, without the Duke's ever catching on. This stoat in his white winter coat must have fooled Sir Thomas, no doubt looking at first like Thomas's dear friend George. And, of course, why would Thomas have paused to consider the possibility of the white animal below being anyone other than George, mousing in his own right, as Thomas made his surprise jump from the window. Three of Thomas's blue and green Argyle tartan paw covers lay on the floor. The fourth was in the dead ermine's mouth.

Sir Thomas of Argyle, Bane of Mice (8)

From THE OFFICIAL TRAVELOGUE OF SIR THOMAS CAT, ESQUIRE

Translated from the Meowish.
Copyright May 1983


This story is dedicated to my husband's Aunt Eleanor Campbell Taylor and Uncle Rumsey Taylor, Sr., of Princeton, Kentucky, USA, in whose home the enchantment of Inveraray is alive and well on this side of the Atlantic. May the rest of us who come along after be able to carry on and never lose that enchantment forever.

[Part 8]

"We'll have to put him to sleep, you know," Dr. Woolsey said, as he appeared in the doorway again. At that the Duke of Argyle sank into a chair under the window ledge for support, trying to make himself think of the lovely view of the snow. Dr. Woolsey had to come to the Duke's aid, and signalled to his veterinary assistant to wait a moment.

"I don't mean forever, Colin," Dr. Woolsey said quickly. "I mean we'll have to put him to sleep for a couple of hours, or he'll claw us to bits during the surgery. This looks like a weasel bite." 

"You mean it wasn't a cat fight?" asked the Duke, reviving a bit with curiosity himself.

"No," said Dr. Woolsey, "the teeth marks are definitely weasel, though probably not rabid. Still, we have to find the weasel if we can."

The Duke went immediately to get Chief Maynard, and the two of them spent the next hour combing watchtower hill for weasel tracks, which they thought they found a few times. They decided to check inside the watchtower, too. The door was extremely heavy, but rodents through the many years had gnawed out several entrances of their own. For that reason the Duke had never replaced a large window pane once broken out of a side window. It was Sir George's and Sir Thomas's surprise entrance for rodents under them on the floor, and the two cats often exited the same way, carrying a bit of lunch with them.

Sir Thomas of Argyle, Bane of Mice (7)

From THE OFFICIAL TRAVELOGUE OF SIR THOMAS CAT, ESQUIRE

Translated from the Meowish.
Copyright May 1983


This story is dedicated to my husband's Aunt Eleanor Campbell Taylor and Uncle Rumsey Taylor, Sr., of Princeton, Kentucky, USA, in whose home the enchantment of Inveraray is alive and well on this side of the Atlantic. May the rest of us who come along after be able to carry on and never lose that enchantment forever.

[Part 7]

Thinking back to last seeing Thomas when the Duchess was getting into the car to be driven to Dunoon, the Duke estimated that Thomas could have lain there for almost twenty-four hours already, and it was obvious that fever and infection had set in. Thomas had quickly grown too weak to make it back to the castle, and even too weak to summon Chief Maynard on patrol. A shudder went through the Duke when he remembered a legend that a cat who felt he was about to die would sometimes go away from his home to spare his beloved owners pain. A feverish cat would sometimes become fearful and quit drinking water just when he needed it most. The Duke pressed some snow into Thomas's mouth. Then throwing his coat and vest aside, the Duke took off his own cardigan sweater, wrapping Thomas gently in the wool of it. Slipping on his vest again, the Duke found the catnip in the pocket and slipped it under Thomas's collar in case the scent might interest him enough to revive him a bit. Then the Duke pulled on his coat and literally ran back to the castle with Thomas in his arms.

As the Duke drew closer the castle, he suddenly remembered again that the Duchess was not there to care for Thomas--oh, why was she always gone when he needed her most--and so he ran on to the stone barn where the veterinarian in charge of the Argyle sheep was just making his rounds. Dr. Woolsey, who was the leading sheep consultant in the North Sea Area, was just walking through the barn door for the day's work--checking the sheep's muzzles and ears for the parasitic insects which tended to seek out the warm animals as the weather grew colder.

"Ho, what have you there, Colin," asked Dr. Woolsey, "a wee, black lamb born in the night?"

"It's Thomas!" said the Duke, and the look of anguish on the Duke's face told Dr. Woolsey all he needed to know. Dr. Woolsey took Thomas into his arms and disappeared into the room where he'd set up an examining table for the lambs.

Sir Thomas of Argyle, Bane of Mice (6)

From THE OFFICIAL TRAVELOGUE OF SIR THOMAS CAT, ESQUIRE

Translated from the Meowish.
Copyright May 1983


This story is dedicated to my husband's Aunt Eleanor Campbell Taylor and Uncle Rumsey Taylor, Sr., of Princeton, Kentucky, USA, in whose home the enchantment of Inveraray is alive and well on this side of the Atlantic. May the rest of us who come along after be able to carry on and never lose that enchantment forever.

[Part 6]

The Duke searched the  snow-covered weeds as he climbed the hill to the watchtower, moving the weeds gently with his foot and calling Thomas's name as the snow shook loose from the taller bushes. He circled the watchtower and called to no avail. Then a thought struck him. There was a little song about the salmon that the Duchess often sang to Thomas while feeding him. Maybe the song would coax Thomas out of hiding. Looking around to be sure no one was about, and feeling confident that Chief Maynard, who sang professionally on occasion as bass in a barber shop quartet, was now busy in his office over the crossword puzzle, the Duke began on the song in what could be said to be close to a baritone. He sang louder and louder, the sounds echoing back from the snowy hills. Then he stopped and fairly shouted again for Sir Thomas. 

"Thomas! Oh, Thomas, my cat! Where are you, Thomas?" he yelled.

"Me? Meow? he finally heard faintly in the distance.

Walking briskly in the direction of the sound, the Duke found himself heading toward the backside of the watchtower where some damaged fencing was collected, waiting to be mended. Amid the fence posts and gnarled wire, he found Thomas in the snow, barely conscious with one leg badly damaged. Thomas had found an excellent barricade in which to protect himself until he felt better, but the Duke was sure Thomas would need help to recover. Fur was matted all over, and cat's body was hot to the touch, especially on his nose and pawpads.

Sir Thomas of Argyle, Bane of Mice (5)

From THE OFFICIAL TRAVELOGUE OF SIR THOMAS CAT, ESQUIRE

Translated from the Meowish.
Copyright May 1983


This story is dedicated to my husband's Aunt Eleanor Campbell Taylor and Uncle Rumsey Taylor, Sr., of Princeton, Kentucky, USA, in whose home the enchantment of Inveraray is alive and well on this side of the Atlantic. May the rest of us who come along after be able to carry on and never lose that enchantment forever.

[Part 5]

The Duke walked dutifully through the passageway to the castle office to deliver the banana bread to Chief Maynard, and meanwhile, to inquire about Thomas. Chief Maynard had only been indoors a few minutes from the early patrol of the grounds and assured the Duke that Thomas had been in none of his usual locations. Chief Maynard had sat down with a cup of tea brewed on the portable unit at his large desk and had started his daily crossword puzzle. Still, Thomas's absence puzzled him more than the word for which he had been searching when the Duke arrived, and both men began to be worried. Neither wanted to be responsible for losing Thomas while the Duchess was away.

The Duke decided to strap on his heavy snow boots which were waiting by the kitchen door and to look for Thomas himself. As he stepped outside the door, he saw the glistening white fur of Sir George as it rivaled the glistening snow. Sir George sat in his usual visiting spot, on the ledge of the semi-circular kitchen window. The last of  autumn's deep red roses climbing the window frame had been covered by snow during the night, and there were a few St. Kildae wrens, probably blown off course by the wind that brought the snow, singing on their morning pilgrimage to the upper library window where the Duchess usually left a tray of grain as the weather cooled. The Duke rubbed Sir George's ears and knew it was odd, too, that Sir George seemed to assume Sir Thomas to be inside the castle.

Sir Thomas of Argyle, Bane of Mice (4)

From THE OFFICIAL TRAVELOGUE OF SIR THOMAS CAT, ESQUIRE

Translated from the Meowish.
Copyright May 1983


This story is dedicated to my husband's Aunt Eleanor Campbell Taylor and Uncle Rumsey Taylor, Sr., of Princeton, Kentucky, USA, in whose home the enchantment of Inveraray is alive and well on this side of the Atlantic. May the rest of us who come along after be able to carry on and never lose that enchantment forever.

[Part 4]

The Duke selected from his library a book he had long meant to read and settled down by the fire. For a while he lost track of time, but suddenly he noticed that it was getting late, and Thomas had not come home. He told himself that one shouldn't expect a cat to come home every night, but still he felt uneasy. He went on to bed and finally fell asleep but had the strangest dream--three times! Each time he awakened and remembered the dream he went back to sleep and dreamed it again. He dreamed that Thomas was lying in the snow bleeding and couldn't get home. The foliage in his dream reminded him of the overgrowth of weeds just outside the watchtower on the hill east of the castle. In olden says kilted soldiers had stood guard at the watchtower, both during battle and routinely during peaceful days. Now the stone structure was unused, and the main guard for the estate, Chief Maynard of Clyde, had an efficient and comfortable office in the castle rather than a post in the watchtower.

Day was breaking, and the sun was almost up. The Duke dressed quickly for the day and went downstairs to the kitchen where he got a sprig of catnip out of a drawer in the ten-foot-tall, ten-foot-wide spice cabinet. The Duchess always kept the catnip on the bottom row where Thomas could open the drawer himself, but this morning the drawer was soundly shut. No sign of Thomas's return. The Duke tucked the catnip into a vest pocket and settled down to brew his own tea. All the equipment was laid out--surely he could manage it. On the breakfast table the Duchess had set up a little notebook of hers with a morning prayer and a Bible verse to remember. She had also written the Duke a long note with loving thoughts and many instructions about things he must not forget during the week. One was to share a loaf of her banana bread with Chief Maynard. She had baked and wrapped three loaves which should do them for breakfast that week, and the loaves sat there on the breakfast table looking for all the world like wrapped gifts sitting beside a basket of jellies and jams.