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.